#i was so lazy with the clothes and tired so ignore them

[kwyoz]

i was about to snoreeee mimimimi but then i was imagining this hairstyle on wwx and sat up so fast to draw it.

[maskedbyghost]

cw: manipulation, possessive reader, suggestive language

You told him you didn’t do casual.

You didn’t make it a big deal. You just said it like you meant it, not trying to sound dramatic or emotional about it. Just honest.

“I don’t do casual,” you said, eyes on your drink. “It always ends up messy, and I’m not built for that.”

Simon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “That’s alright,” he said eventually. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

You nodded. No reaction on your face, no shift in tone. “Then we can just be friends.”

He raised an eyebrow like he was trying to figure you out. “You sure?”

You smiled a little. “Yeah. I like hanging out with you. We don’t have to fuck.”

“…Alright,” he said, after a pause. “Friends.”

And that was the start.

Except friends don’t show up to his gym when he’s meeting a girl for a workout date.

Friends don’t slip him a text during his Tinder dinner like,

“you left your hoodie here again. i’m wearing it. smells like you.”

Friends don’t show up to the pub when he’s got plans with someone, all dolled up like you just rolled out of a damn music video, giving his date a once-over and offering a tight smile that says run, babe.

You’d always act surprised when things didn’t work out. “Oh no, she ghosted you? That’s so weird.”

And Simon? He wasn’t completely oblivious. But he was tired, and lonely, and honestly kind of lazy when it came to trying to figure women out, and you were just so easy to be around, so warm and funny and low-maintenance and somehow always around when he needed someone.

So when he started seeing you more than anyone else, it didn’t feel weird. It felt right.

He told himself it was just friendship.

Even when you leaned against him on the couch. Even when you started sleeping over. Even when he started feeling a little sick thinking about you with anyone else.

The night it finally changed, he had just come back from a shit deployment — nothing too dangerous, just long and annoying and cold, and you’d been waiting at his place (with your own key, because somehow that had happened), and you were in his clothes, curled up in his bed with takeout, and when he saw you like that he just… stopped thinking.

“You’re perfect for me,” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself.

You blinked, looking up from your phone. “What?”

“I was so fucking stupid,” he muttered, dropping his bag, walking toward you like something magnetic was pulling him in. “I didn’t see it. I don’t know why.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just looked at him for a second, then smiled, slow and easy, like you’d been waiting for him to finally figure it out, like none of it really surprised you, but you were still happy to hear it out loud.

From there, it was easy.

The relationship happened fast. Slipped into place like it had always been there. He’d gone from “I don’t do serious” to leaving his toothbrush at your place, to falling asleep with his face buried in your neck, to holding your hand in public without even realizing he was doing it.

He was happy. Stupidly happy. The kind that made his friends suspicious and his coworkers tease him. The kind that made you look like the hero of some cozy domestic fantasy where nothing ever goes wrong and love is enough.

It wasn’t one big moment. It was a bunch of little ones that slowly added up until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Like how you always just showed up when he had plans, how his phone would buzz with a text from you right before he left for a date. Or how you’d casually mention how certain girls “weren’t his type,” even when he never brought them up to you.

And then one day, while you were going through an old playlist together, you said, “God, I remember this song. I used to listen to it every time I thought about you with someone else.” And you didn’t even blink after saying it.

And the more he thinks about it, the more it starts adding up.

You’d played him. You’d baited him.

And now he’s sitting on the couch, watching you walk into the room in one of his old T-shirts, holding a bowl of snacks, looking like home, and he honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or be pissed off or bend you over the arm of the sofa and remind you who he is.

You plop into his lap like you do it every day (because you do), nestling in like you’re settling into your rightful throne, and he wraps his arms around your waist automatically, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You know what I realized today?” he asks, voice low.

You hum. “What?”

He tilts his head like he’s thinking it through. “We’re together because you manipulated me.”

You pause for like… half a second. Then?

“Yeah,” you say, nonchalant. “And?”

He squints at you, mouth twitching like he can’t decide if he wants to smile or frown. “You sabotaged every girl I tried to hook up with.”

“I did,” you say, and lean forward to grab the remote. “Most of them were trash anyway.”

“You tricked me into thinking you weren’t interested.”

“Mhm.” You don’t even look at him. “Worked, didn’t it?”

There’s this long silence, and then Simon groans and lets his head fall back on the couch dramatically.

“I should be mad,” he mutters.

“You’re not,” you say, smiling down at him like he’s your prize. “You love me.”

“Fuck, woman,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours. “That turns me on.”

You grin, shifting your weight so you’re straddling him properly, hands sliding up his chest slowly until your fingers curl around the back of his neck. You squeeze—not hard, just enough to make him feel it.

“You belong to me,” you whisper against his ear. “Always have.”

He shivers. Actually shivers.

“…Jesus.”

You kiss his jaw, slow and smug. “Say it.”

“…Yours.”

“Good boy.”

And yeah. He is.

PART 2

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@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

[harmonysanreads]

hi harmy its me :3c ur son

anyways yeah,,, im back with brainrot,,,

and more about ouppy phainon!!! something about mighty warriors melting when you call them good boy scratches my brain in such a way YOU HAVE NO IDEAAA i will never forgive you for enabling this thought process btw this is all your fault /silly

AND AND AND,,, kitty anaxa,,,,, smirks i need to pet him vigorously until he gets annoyed and tries to bite my hand YOU GET ME,,, but it never works bc i will simply coo and pet him harder and call him even more obnoxious nicknames until he is forced to give up and accept my pets

petpetpetpetpetpetpetpet forever and ever and ever

You'll not deny, you've scarcely pondered the true weight of your position, your power.

At unpredictable intervals, between the pauses of your fingers weaving through his hair, in the shade away from the light of his gaze — it crosses your mind, briefly. That the hands that cling to the ends of your garbs are of no ordinary man's, the voice that prays your name is not one that'll be ignored in a crowd.

That despite how much he places himself beneath the shadow of reverence, the light of devotion in Phainon's eyes will remain ever incendiary.

“Tired?” you guess, cautious. He responds by burrowing deeper in your lap, his knees stop just before your ankles.

Your eyes settle on the tufts of ivory hair, they shy away as soon as your grip softens. It would not seem so to an eye that hasn't observed, but there is always a reason behind this particular behavior of his. Sensing his unwillingness to speak, you see fit to use your last option.

��Who's a good boy?” a zephyr carries to his ear, the sun peeks from behind translucent clouds.

“Me?” you can feel his nails dig into the hem of your chiton, his breaths at a halt — it'll gladly remain so until you command.

Your eyes search for a trace of your answer among the torches that light his abode, unsatisfied, “Where is my good boy?”

His clothes rustle as he straightens his back, before leaning fully towards your lap, “Here.” his admission is firmer than last time.

His eyes close in relief as you reward him by patting his head, much pleased at this development. You don't allow the sigh of solace to escape from the confines of your throat, indulging this interlude from the sun's attention.

Your eyes follow the journey of your fingers ; dodging the corner of his eyes, brushing past his cheeks, dipping towards the arch of his neck. Phainon cannot resist joining your observation, as your finger traces the gold of the choker wrapped around his neck, the tip of your nail teases the skin — before you withdraw altogether.

You laugh at your own trickery, not courageous enough to look back at Phainon's face.

Your indulgence is stopped short as you feel a familiar grip around your wrists, clasping wholly onto your palms and settling them back on Phainon's face.

Unlike before, there is strength in that grip — not enough to hurt, just enough to serve as a reminder of how worse it can get. You find your throat parched when you swallow, there's a veiled warning in those eyes of his.

Do you dare still, to wield this dangerous weapon?

“You really remind me of a cat, did you know?” you probe at the brooding scholar.

Anaxa takes a moment to digest the new piece of information, he's heard several unflattering monikers throughout his life. This one, even his brilliant mind nearly toppled over trying to decipher.

“That is quite insulting,” he mutters, glancing at you pointedly.

“How so?” you but lean over the tree, light dancing across your pupils.

“You're comparing a scholar and no ordinary scholar at that, to a mere feline. Is this you indirectly calling me lazy, or pointing out that my wisdom is insignificant compared to the intelligence of a c—”

“I love cats.” you stress, unflinching before his scorn.

The pupil of his visible eye darts across your smile, apparitions of neurons firing in his brain could almost be seen reflected on it. He parts his lips to speak, but closes them instantly, an absence of what he deems are the correct words being indicated.

You bite your lip to stifle the laughter bubbling in your chest.

With great effort he finally says, “So... what?” though his gaze is averted.

“So, I'm implying that,” your steps shrink the distance between you two.

“I adore you enough to compare you to cats.” Anaxa holds his arm out in defense, unfortunately for him, your proximity is close enough to reveal the blood that rushes to his cheeks.

“Nonsense—”

Taking advantage of his stupefaction, you hold two tufts of his hair and hold them in the shape of cat ears. Your giggle brings the scholar back to Amphoreus, he weakly attempts to swat you off but you take the opportunity to deliver a pinch to his cheeks.

A ‘hey!’ heavy with disbelief escapes him, his palm rises to cradle the teased skin. Rouge stains his cheeks.

“Okay okay, I'll stop.” you raise your arms in surrender. There are always unsaid limitation to a person's patience. You may indulge in testing where they cease, but even you know not to cross certain territories.

You spin on your heels to depart but a new interference introduces itself.

You don't recall Anaxa's grip being this strong, the thought passes as you feel his fingers dig into the curve of your waist. His chin settles on the dip of your shoulder, his breath warming the skin.

Perhaps, you shouldn't have teased him.

[simp-for-love]

I got you

Mattheo Riddle x femReader

After a grueling day, you can finally relax in your dorm. And your loving boyfriend is more than happy to help you with that.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise kink, swearing, established relationship, soft!mattheo, aftercare, using of 'baby girl', 'good girl'

A/N: I didn't intend to write smut, but the last few days got the best of me draining my soul. Hope my work will help you feel better as much as it does me.

Thanks to a sweet angel, Jess, for proofreading my first smutty work 💕

It was rare, but it happened. The kind of day when everything just felt like too much. Too noisy in the Great Hall during breakfast, too hard to understand the material in class, too incomprehensible to write down your answers for homework, too annoying to hang out with your friends — even though you loved them with all your heart. Everything today was just too much.

You walked to your dorm after spending two frustrating hours struggling over your Potions essay. No matter how much you tried, the words didn’t feel right, and the more you stared at the parchment, the worse it got. You knew you could do better — but not today. Not when every ounce of energy and focus had drained out of you. Maybe if you went to bed early, you could rewrite it tomorrow morning?

With a heavy sigh, you tossed your bag to the floor near the table. The day felt like an endless stretch of torture, and you were finally free — finally in the quiet comfort of your room. Here, you didn’t have to be anything but a lazy bundle wrapped in a blanket, free from responsibilities and expectations.

You opened the closet, reaching for something more comfortable. Your fingers brushed against a familiar grey shirt — Mattheo’s. It was oversized and soft, and even after multiple washes, it still carried the faintest scent of him. You slipped it on along with a pair of wide, comfy shorts, hoping the feel of his clothes would ease some of the tension humming beneath your skin.

With another dramatic sigh, you plopped onto your bed, letting your tired body sink into the mattress. Your eyes felt heavy, the weight of the day pulling you under as you burrowed deeper beneath the blanket.

For a few blissful minutes, the silence wrapped around you like a cocoon, and you let yourself breathe — slow and deep. But just as your mind began to drift, a knock at your door pulled you back.

Your brows furrowed in irritation. You didn’t want to see anyone. Not now. You ignored the sound, hoping whoever it was would get the hint. But then the soft click of the door opening made you lift your head slightly.

The annoyance faded the second you recognized the guest.

"Hey there, baby girl," Mattheo’s voice was warm, smooth like honey, and the sight of him sent a flutter through your chest. His dark curls were tousled as if he’d run his fingers through them on the way over, and the usual edge in his eyes softened when they landed on your form wrapped in the blanket.

He crossed the room, settling on the edge of your bed. His hand found you immediately, brushing down the curve of your shoulder and along your hip through the duvet — a touch so familiar, so comforting, it made your whole body relax.

“I haven't seen you since class," he murmured, his tone playful but laced with quiet concern. “Thought I’d come check on my girl.”

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the day loosen slightly at his presence. “Just… tired,” you admitted, your voice muffled as you tucked your face into the blanket. “It’s been a long day.”

Mattheo hummed in understanding, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your side. “Poor thing,” he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’m always here for you.”

His words settled something fragile inside you, melting the last traces of tension. Without a second thought, you shifted closer, and he took the invitation immediately — lifting the blanket and sliding in beside you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed softly in your ear.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know,” Mattheo whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, easing the ache that had followed you all day. His hand never stopped moving — gentle, absent-minded strokes along your back as if he was determined to chase every last trace of stress away.

For a moment, you let yourself melt into him, your body softening under his touch. But then Mattheo shifted slightly, and his fingers trailed up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His lips pressed a soft kiss against your temple — tender and lingering.

“You work too hard,” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. “You should let me take care of you sometimes.”

Before you could answer, he tilted your face gently toward him, brushing his lips across your cheek. The kiss was featherlight, but it sent a shiver down your spine. Another kiss followed, this time at the corner of your mouth, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

His thumb traced along your jaw, tilting your head slightly to give him more access as his lips trailed a slow, deliberate path across your face. Each kiss was soft, unhurried — like he had all the time in the world to remind you how much he adored you.

“You’re too sweet to me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

Mattheo's hand slided down to the small of your back, his fingers splaying possessively but gently over the curve of your ass. He pulled you closer until every inch of your body was pressed against him, from your soft breasts to your long, slender legs. He wanted to absorb your warmth, your soul, your goodness. He wanted it to seep into his bones and heal all the broken, jagged pieces of himself.

"Too sweet?" he scoffed quietly at your words. Salazar, if you only knew how he was afraid that one day you would get tired of him. Of his darkness, of his recklessness, of his demons inside. No, he could never be too sweet for you. He just liked to show you his appreciation for your presence in his life, his awe of your existence, his utter and deep love for you.

“I’m not sweet,” he murmured quietly, but the teasing edge in his tone softened when he pressed a kiss to the delicate spot just beneath your ear. “I’m selfish. I just want you all to myself.”

The heat of his breath against your skin made your stomach flip in a familiar way. His kisses wandered lower, trailing along the curve of your jaw before he found the sensitive spot on your neck. His lips lingered there, soft and warm, as he placed an open-mouthed kiss against your pulse.

A quiet sigh slipped from your lips, and Mattheo hummed in satisfaction, clearly pleased by your reaction. “That’s better,” he said, his voice huskier now. “You’re finally relaxing.”

His hand slid from your butt under the blanket, finding the bare skin of your waist beneath his oversized shirt. His touch was gentle — slow, almost teasing — as his thumb stroked lazy circles over your hipbone.

“You smell like me,” Mattheo murmured against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. “I like it.”

His confession made your chest tighten in the best way. You tilted your head slightly without realizing it, giving him better access as his mouth continued its exploration — kissing, nipping softly, then soothing the spots with his tongue.

“Mattheo…” His name slipped from your lips, barely more than a breath, but it was enough to make him pause. He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours, and the warmth you found there made you swallow.

"I'm right here," he murmured softly, brushing his nose against your. He pecked you gently, upper lip at first, then the lower one. "Gonna be a good girl and let me help you relax, yeah?" His tone felt better than any soft and warm blanket, making your heart stumble on its rhythm. The familiar heat pooled down to your stomach.

"Yes. I will, Matty," you whispered in his lips, feeling the anticipation tingling in your body.

His warm smile made something clench painfully in your chest. Mattheo's hand moved further, from your hipbone to your stomach, running his fingers there slowly.

"That's it," he murmured softly. His hand moved further, his touch was careful. It was obvious he knew exactly where to go, where to touch, where to kiss. His calloused fingers slid with confidence and gentleness against your heated skin, as he took on the mission to leave no inch of your body untouched, and his own body shivered in response to the sensation of you — feeling every dip and curve under the shirt, his shirt that you were wearing.

He pressed his lips back against your skin, a soft kiss here, a soft kiss there. Your body responded every single time, your muscles relaxing under his touch.

Mattheo felt the tension in your body ease with every touch and kiss he placed. This was exactly what he wanted — you to relax, to let go of the worries of the day, and trust him completely.

His thumb traced a slow, soothing circle over the sensitive skin of your hip, his gaze roaming your face, taking in every detail — every flutter of your eyelashes, every soft exhale of your breath.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured quietly. "So damn beautiful." It was as if he couldn't believe you were real — that you were his, in his arms, letting him touch you, kiss you, make you feel good.

As his thumb continued its journey, tracing a path along the waistband of your shorts, his lips found that spot on your neck again. He sucked gently at your pulse point, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

Mattheo's words and actions made your body shiver, the sincerity in his voice making your breathing uneven. You lifted your hand, fingers tangling into the dark mass of curls at his nape, tugging him closer.

His touch was slightly rougher now as Mattheo played with the waistband of your panties. He wanted to feel your entire body respond to him, to have you arch your back against his hand.

Mattheo shifted slightly and gently tugged at the fabric, his lips moving to your ear. "Don't move," he whispered gruffly, his tone commanding. "Just let me take care of you."

The possessive edge in his voice made you swallow. You could hear the want and need in his words — the hunger for you, for your body in his hands.

His lips left a trail of kisses along your jawline as he continued to explore. His hands moved more confidently, his fingers dancing over your skin as he slowly pushed your shorts down your already trembling thighs.

Mattheo's hand skimmed along the bare skin of your legs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, in his oversized shirt, underwear, and nothing else, sprawled out in front of him on the bed. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," he murmured, his words a soft exhale against your neck. "So good for me. So fucking beautiful."

There was a note of reverence in his voice, as if he was worshipping you with every word. His hands began to move again, his large and warm palms sliding up the inside of your thighs, spreading them gently apart.

His hands went to remove your panties, his touch caring and soft. In his position, he was laying between your legs, his face was just above your mound. You tremlled at the sight of his eyes on you. "You look so perfect like this," he said in a low, a bit hoarse voice.

Mattheo leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his hot breath. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his tongue darting out to tease you. Then, in one smooth motion, his mouth was finally on you.

He started off slow, tongue tracing patterns along your folds, exploring, tasting. Mattheo knew exactly what he was doing, each movement calculated to give you pleasure, to worship you in the most intimate way. He took his time, every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as if he could savour you.

"Oh fuck," you gasped softly. His tongue found your sensitive bud, and he circled it, flicking it tenderly before taking into his mouth, suckling and tugging gently on it in all the right ways. You couldn’t help but moan, your fingers burying in his hair, holding onto him as if your life depended on it. He continued to pay worship to you with his mouth, like you were a holy place he had long waited to pay a visit.

"Such a good girl, letting me take care of you," he cooed lowly as he sank a finger deep inside you, reveling in the tight heat that welcomed him. He moved slowly, savoring the slick glide as he pumped his finger in and out in a leisurely, steady rhythm. Your body reacted immediately to his presence, soft gasps and moans spilling from your lips.

Every stroke of his digit made your body arch, your breathing ragged and uneven. It felt so good, but yet not enough. "Mattheo," you whined breathlessly, your voice a quiet plea. "Please..."

"Shh, baby girl. It's okay. I got you," he murmured, returning his mouth on your clit. A second finger slid inside, joining the first one in their steady pace. You felt like heaven to him, like the best thing he had ever tasted. His name slipped from your lips, a moan that was music to his ears.

The wet sounds of your heat filled the room, punctuated by your own ragged pants and the occasional whimpers that escaped your mouth. Mattheo continued his ministrations, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure that you deserved. He could feel you getting wetter under his touch, responding to every move he made. He knew he was good, but the way you always reacted to him, the way you trembled and moaned, made him feel a surge of masculine pride, made him feel like a god.

"I love making you feel good. Love how I can make a pretty, intelligent girl like you whimper like that," he murmured, his tone a seductive and satisfied purr.

The pleasure he was giving you felt endless, a tidal wave of sensations that threatened to drown you in ecstasy. But nothing could prepare you for the moment when he curled his fingers inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars.

The blissful feeling was building, mounting with each flick of his tongue, each expert stroke of his fingers, each praise he was giving to you. Mattheo was relentless in his mission to make you feel wanted, needed, loved — his focus entirely on you. And you fully felt it.

His name spilled from your lips, a mixture of a moan and a plea. Mattheo responded to each of them with a low, satisfied hum, his eyes never leaving your face. He wanted to see every expression, every twist and gasp. He was drinking in the sight of you, completely focusing on your pleasure, on bringing you to the edge and making you feel good, just like you deserved.

The feeling of his fingers and lips on you was nearly overwhelming, and you couldn't help but whine, your voice catching in your throat. Your hands gripped his curls, desperate for something to hold onto, as you felt the tension coil low in your stomach. You were so close, and he knew it by the way your walls started to flutter around his fingers.

"Come for me, love," he coaxed against your skin, the words vibrating through your core. "Be a good girl for me and let go."

Mattheo's words sent another jolt of pleasure through you, and your body obeyed, clenching around his fingers. You felt yourself tipping over the edge, your fingers curled in his curls almost painfully as the tidal wave of the climax crashed over you.

He could feel you arousal gushing around his hand, essence dripping down onto the bed. The sight and sound of you coming undone on his fingers and mouth filled him with a deep sense of pride, possession, and love.

Mattheo didn’t stop. Even as you trembled and bucked against him, he continued his assault, his mouth and tongue relentless as they dragged every last aftershock from your trembling body. His lips and chin were covered in your juices, and the scent of your arousal only made him feel more hazy.

Just before he could overstimulate you, Mattheo carefully withdraw his fingers and mouth, placing the last gentle kiss on your inner thigh. He sat up, licking his fingers with a small smile on his lips, looking like a sated cat under the sun.

Then he bent over to the night table, taking your wand and casting the cleaning spell on both of you before gently pulling your shorts back on. With a satisfied smile he looked down at you, eyes shining with something warm and soft, something that made your heart flutter.

"Feel better, baby girl?" he murmured quietly as he slid back up the bed, gathering you in his arms, his body a comforting weight against yours.

"Always. You're mine to take care of, love," he said quietly in your hair, placing a gentle kiss on your head.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, nuzzling in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Matty," you mumbled, feeling your body go limp as the tiredness of the day finally caught you in this relaxed and sated state.

[gojossugarcandy]

A tired girl is aching to get some sleep when her karma doesn't let her.

An act of laziness and, well, cheating got her to her lowest. The act being summoning of a devil, an incubus, to cure her boredom. This girl had her summer vacations going on and her friends had abandoned her on the very first minute of it.

So she decided to poke around and found out about a spell that summoned an incubus. Not believing in this nonsense, she decided to try it out. Well, there was an upside and a downside.

Upside -> She got a boyfriend who oozed out sexual energy like hell

Downside -> This boyfriend was not one who pampered her but was to be pampered.

Lavi was a fucking bitch in heat who always clung to Y/n.

Never letting her take a breather.

And a few times he was abandoned, when Y/n was going on a night out or something (not with her friends but just visiting a bar for a drink) then he would get very pouty and thus established some rules. One of them being, you going out with him and your friends only.

One fine evening, while You sat on your bed with Lavi on your lap, your hand combing through his hair, while he was going through some weird incubus hentai manga and criticizing it to be very inaccurate and boring.

Then, a sudden notification pop caught your and his attention.

A notification from your dead friends!

Grout Chat - Drunkard - Guys, Let's go on a night out. Playboy - Man, I was waiting for you to say that Bestie - I feel like i am dying. Finally someone revived the dead chat

Then, you start chatting with them, a huge smile etched on your face. A smile Lavi didn't want to be due to others. Only he should make you smile like that. You can smile only with him. And so on, the possessive thoughts went on....

You suddenly stood up due to which his body was forced out of your lap causing his mood to instantly change.

"The heck? Why did you do that?!" His expression of irritation is ignored by you, who was too busy finding clothes.

You start changing into a different pair of clothes. Very revealing clothes.

He was dumbfounded for a second before he also got up, excited to go out with you, excited for your first date or whatever humans call it.

After changing, you turn around to take a mirror pic and showed your dress to him, when you noticed his giddy smile.

Confused, you ask "Are you so happy to see me go out of the house or something?"

He looked at you, now he was the confused one as he declared,

"Cutie, aren't we going out together?" he asked before adding in,

"Didn't we already agree that you would always go out with me only??"

"Oh! nonono, there has been a misunderstanding here. I am going out with my friends for a night out, It's a friends thing and plus i thought i agreed to going out with you also and not you only"

In the blink of an eye, the mood changed. The room suddenly felt colder, your clothes too open and his stare too suspicious.

You didn't even realize you were holding your breath, your adrenaline, released due to your flight-or-fight instinct, already reaching every cell in your body already, until your notification sound pops. No, you were far too busy staring at those eyes, too fearful to break the eye contact.

You snapped your head at the direction of the nightstand, where your phone was kept.

But he forcefully held your jaw with one hand, snapping it back to re-establish the eye contact.

His nerves were popping out, eyes angry, pupils too small and his tail swinging wildy.

You tried to push away the hand on your jaw when he held your hand.

Now, the anger wasn't limited to his eyes only. It spread all over his face. His expression was terrifying you. He then declared, in a very deep voice,

"Going Out With 'Friends' Without Me?! Since When Were You Allowed To Do That?! Ha! Don't Make Me Laugh!"

______________________________________________________________

@meo-eiru(The image up there belong to her. I really admire, adore, worship, words are not enough! creators like these as they draw such good drawing with their imaginations! Like damnnnnn! and then there is me. A person who likes drawing but is a huge failure. (I swear, my human faces look like monkeys😂🤣😂🤣) Anyway, seeing the image, I had like a context for it. I don't know if this is good or not. My previous stories are trash because I, like, had no motivation to write but just wanted to. But this one fanart fired my imagination up and I just started writing.

Well, here we go again, with copying the text and pasting it. Lavi seems like the kind of character who acts cute and nice when you agree with him but the moment you are, like, opposing or simply disagreeing with him, he would get angry and very very scary. It is kind of similar to Silas but he won't get angry. He will just laugh freakily and like correct you with his alluring voice.

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Naruto boys random headcanons──☆*:・ﾟ

Sfw

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

Hes lazy at home. Not because he’s tired he just wants you to take care of him, but when you call him a baby for all these requests he gets mad “I AM NOT A BABY! I AM A GROWN MAN! NOW SPOON FEED ME!”

He tries to prank you but fails, your too smart to fall for it. He always tries to trip you in public while walking and every time he is the one on the floor and your the one laughing some how-

He likes the idea of drawing and being an artist he just can’t draw. He can only draw stick people with different hair, one time he tried to draw you, gave up and instead gave you a picture of a stick person with your hair. It’s now on the fridge LOL

He tries to act cool around his friend with you but just makes a fool of himself. “Yeah this my bae so what?” “Yeah I’m his bae and he’s my baby, my big, soft, smiley baby!” His soul is now crushed and his friends all laughing

He sleeps like a ANIMAL. he full on can’t sleep normally, You both go to bed the same time, one of you is always gunna wake up on the floor, mostly you. Then he wakes up like “why you on the floor?”

Sasuke🗡️-*

He may seem cool but he gets very flustered. He doesn’t cover his face though he just closes his eyes so he doesn’t get more flustered and so he can ignore the fact that he is red

He CANT Dance, don’t EVER take him dancing. It’s not because he’s bad at dancing he just never learn. If there is music he will bop his head to the beat though, if you try to get him to dance he will freak out and freeze. He just doesn’t like it ok!

His waist is weirdly sensitive, you could barely touch his waist and he will start giggling. He isn’t ticklish anywhere else but if you take a feather to his waist he will start LAUGHING

He will kick your feet when he wants attention. If you guys are out to dinner with friends he will kick you under the table to get your attention, he thinks it’s funny until you fight back and stomp on his foot. He made you kiss his pain away at home, atleast he got attention LOL

He forgets the silliest things one time he forgot how to tie a knot so anything he needs to tie like his clothes or shoes you had to do for him. You don’t know if he actually forgot or if he just wanted to be babied-

Itachi🥀-*

He can’t handle heatwaves. If it’s over 90 degrees he’s gone for. One time you woke up on a heat wave morning waiting for him to wake up and walk out but he never did, you went to find him and he was in bed, sprawled out, shirt and covers off soaked in sweat. You had to rub ice on him to get him conscious -

Unlike naruto, he likes drawing and can ACTUALLY DRAW, although he can only draw plants but he doesn’t mind he likes plants! He will draw you flowers instead of buying you some which is like equally as cute~

He has very sensitive eyes. Like how he can’t handle heat he cant handle the sun either. If it isn’t cloudy he will have to squint to keep his eyes from hurting. When you told him to wear sun glasses he said “I still want to see you clearly though love…”

He’s not a big fan of skin care but he likes those face roller things. He bought one just so you could use it on him, he likes that it’s cold but also massaging!

He sneezes like a girl- he has the cutest, most petite sneeze you’ve ever heard out of a man which is cute and very funny. He doesn’t even realize it either “a-choo!” “That was crazy out of character” “huh?”

Kakashi🍃-*

He’s allergic to cats, he likes cats sure but he never hangs around them because he’s allergic. You didn’t know that and one day you brought a stray inside and he instantly turned puffy (poor thing)

Once he gets home and discards the mask he puts lip tint on. He has pink lips for that reason. When he first puts it on he will find you and kiss you just to leave a mark before waiting 10 minutes then whipping it off

He needs reading glasses but never uses them, then complains to you when he gets a headache as if you didn’t tell him to put them on

He takes a lot of baths. If he showers it bound to end up a bath. And he doesn’t care if your using the bathroom if he wants a bath he’s gunna make a god Danm bath. One time You were just washing your face and he busted in the door and ran to the bathtub, You washed your face as fast as you could-

He is EXTREMELY tired when he first wakes up, he doesn’t move for like 20 minutes so if he needs to get up and do stuff your gunna have to make him, like actually you’ll have the carry him out of bed.

Kiba🐺-*

He bites his nails from stress so you have made it a habit to smack his hand away when he does. It worked since all you have to do is tap him softly and he will stop. He’s so glad you help him get over bad habits

He decorated akamarus ears when he’s bored, one time you walk in on him giggling like a little girl and akamarus ears were pulled together in a little ponytail! You joined in on the fun🤞

He comes back from a casual walk along a complete mess, you have no idea how but one day he came back with half a bush stuck on his leg. He always cleans up though!

He sometimes transforms akamaru into himself to prank his friends or you, mostly you. One time akamaru came up to you as Kiba and started licking your face “EW OH MY GOD?!” “AUUFF AUF!” “KIBA YOUR NOT FUNNY”

He always has tan cheeks and nose. Compared to the rest of his face, his cheeks are cute and golden!

Shikamaru🀄️-*

He lets you win at intelligents based games to make you feel better. Except one time he actually tried and lost. He’s convinced you cheated

His hair is straight but gets very frizzy if not cared for. (You care for it since he’s lazyy)

He draws on himself when bored, mostly just trippy designs like swirls and stuff. Will also let you draw on him, only if your good tho he doesn’t want “bad drawing” on him😔

He has a box FULL of hair ties and will notice if you take one. “This one you literally stole from me?” “Don’t care put it back!!!”

He gets Freezingly cold at night, like really really cold. When he snuggles up to you to warm up you could feel how cold he really is and you don’t understand how since you are both under covers-

Shino🪲-*

He keeps bugs in the house so they can watch over anything, they are basically his security cameras-

His hair is so cute and wavy! Also gets very frizzy because of the texture like Shika. He also makes you take care of it, he just really likes you touching his hair

He gives you bugs as gifts, not like freaky beetles but cute little bugs like lady bugs or fuzzy green caterpillars. You find it cute that he gives you things that mean so much to him

He shockingly has a sensitive neck, only to you though. Bugs can crawl all over it and he doesn’t move but if you try to kiss it he gets chills. Also shockingly he has really soft skin idk maybe he sheds skin (IM JOKING)

When he gets home and can finally undress he lets you take his glasses off since you love his eyes and he loves that you love them. He gets insecure about it sometimes!

Neji🎋-*

He speak really highly and intelligently but he’s honestly a little dumb sometimes, or maybe he’s just dumb with you to be silly we don’t know

The only jewelry he really wears is an ankle bracelet you got him

He loves hair charms, he likes decorating his hair! He likes putting clips and braids in it, sometimes even put color streaks in it if he wants to be festive

He really likes pottery and making things out of clay, he’s very creative and he finds clay the perfect outlet. He even makes pots for you!

He has a flower garden that NO ONE is allowed in. He treats them like they’re his baby’s, because they are! He’s favorite plant he has is his cactuses.

Lee🥋-*

He’s extremely energetic and powerful yet he has asthma, he denies it. But if it’s really hot outside he runs out of breath REALLY fast which makes you worry

He’s scared of spiders you kill the spiders for him or he runs! If you trap a spider and chase him with it he will almost start crying (he will start crying) he’s ashamed to admit spiders are his weakness

He wears mascara, he gotta make them lashes voluminous yk. He stole his mascara from tenten too. You made him give it back to her and bought him his own

It’s pretty obvious but he is FLEXIBLE! Backbend, splits anything he can do. You thought he broke his spine onces-

He’s not much of a plant guy but he has the TINIEST succulent in your room that he cares for, every other plant he has had died but not that one~

Choji🍥-*

He loves finger painting and is actually really good at it, you’d think it was made by a professional and an actual paint brush but no it was Choji and his finger paint😭

His hair is so thick most hair ties he uses break. He has to use hair needles instead because it’s the only thing that holds if he wants his hair up for a while

He thinks pillow fights are actually entertaining he could have a pillow fight with you all day and never get bored. He goes crazy if he’s over at someone’s house and they suggest pillow fights!

He loves bath bombs!!! He basically died when you run him a bath and put bath bombs in it, his favorite scent it lavender. Even if you didn’t add a bath bomb he loves when you make him baths he thinks its adorable

He paints your cheeks like his in your sleep, that’s his idea of a prank even though it’s basically him just being a cutie “look now your like me y/n!!”

Gaara⏳-*

He turns the black rings around his eyes to cat eyes sometimes. He looks ADORABLE with cat eyes. He sometimes even uses eye shadow too, if he can’t change it he thought might as well make it look cutee

He’s scared of mosquitos, he just doesn’t like bugs that can fly and go after human blood it freaks him out

He wears one of those scent bracelets and puts your signature scent in it so he always smells like you~

He gifts you plants all the time

He collect the silliest things, there are these cute little cat charms at a near by store and he’s working on collecting them all!

Kankuro🪆-*

Shockingly he really likes reading. He likes fiction books the most, he asks you for suggestions

He asks you what new make up design he should try, sometimes he just gives you the brush and lets you go wild. But you always make him look cute~

He fidgets with the ears on his hat when he’s bored. It rubbed off on you so now if he’s around you with his hat on you start messing with them-

He steals your clothes and hides them so you have no choice but to ask to use his for the day. After the day is over he comes up to you smiling and hands you your missing clothes “found em!” “By found em do you mean took them out of the hiding spot?” “Yeah-”

He paints his nails either black, pink or purple. He also lets you paint them, it honestly just ends up a mess. He would totally whip nail polishes on your nose~

[bonbonly]

bon’s thoughts (18+) a/n: needed a small break from studying but this is all i could think about (tw: somnophilia, cunnilungus)

coming back from work extremely tired, the ac’s broken and it’s hot in your bedroom. after a cold shower, you dried yourself off with a towel and flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling until your eyes slowly closed and you drifted off to a peaceful slumber.

but how dare you ignore your “puppy” charles, who had been anxiously waiting for you to return? he had done the dishes, folded your laundry and was waiting for you to come down to the living room to greet him. he'd been good the whole day since you promised him that if he didn't fuck something up and start whining like a brat, he'd get a good reward - your pretty pussy.

and so he waited. and waited. ugh and waited, but you didn't seem to come down from your room! it surely didn't help that the ac was broken too, he was sweating through his white tee but he was too lazy to take his clothes off and put it in the laundry basket; what if you came down and saw the basket filled with clothes and thought he didn't do his work? nuh uh, he'd have to pull through and make sure you couldn't find any excuse to punish you.

he twisted the rings on his fingers, biting his lip as he thought about what was taking you so long. you didn't even acknowledge him when you first walked through the door. you had tossed your coat off and handed him your bag, and how cruel of you to miss his puckered lips that chased after your fleeting form! he thought he had done something wrong, and he pouted as he remembered the events of the day. no, no! no he did everything right, so why were you ignoring him?

as the seconds transformed into very long minutes, he carefully stepped onto the staircase and headed to the bedroom where you laid, fast asleep. imagine his surprise to see you sprawled out on the bed, like a present for him to take! his excitement knew no bounds and he slipped his shirt off his shoulders, a sheen line of sweat beading down his chest from the heat of the room and he crawled over to the edge of the bed. he knew that he wasn't allowed to ever touch you unless he was given permission to - it was a privilege he had to earn, but seeing you like this? his mouth was watering as he took in the sight of your parted legs, the moonlight catching onto your gummy folds. he slowly exhaled onto your cunt, watching the way you stirred ever so slightly at the sensation.

"this is not right," charles whispered to himself, "she would not like this but... but it's been so long."

he caught his whine in his throat, making sure not to make any more noises as he leaned closer, hovering above you as he placed his hands on each side of your hips. slowly, he let a glob of his saliva travel from his tongue down to your clit, almost as if it was dancing to your cunt. he pressed his nose against your sensitive nub, inhaling your scent.

you smelled like you were made for him - err, well, he was made for you. he couldn't have those foolish thoughts circling in his head, not when the punishment from last time still stung against his ass. he licked a long stripe through your folds, his eyes trained on the way your soft tits rose and fell with each breath. he yearned to reach out and pinch those nipples, twist them hard enough for you to cry out in pain so that you'd feel helpless in his arms not the other way around.

what, no! charles! get it together, what are you thinking? you know better than that!

he wrapped his lips around your clit, suckling on the nub gently as his eyes fluttered close. he was savoring every second, his head bobbing. he tugged your trapped clit and watched the hood raise more, calling out for his tongue. he lapped at your glistening folds, watching them snap back in place, and that's when your hips started to buck into the air unconsciously, your brow furrowed as soft gasps escaped your lips. he froze for a second, fear coursing through his veins at the thought that you might be awake but after a few moments of silence, he sighed in relief and resumed his motions.

he pushed a digit into your core, feeling your walls clench and suck him in greedily - a heavenly feeling altogether and he brought his lips right back onto your clit, pumping his finger in and out, in and out before adding another. he picked up his pace, curling his fingers precisely where you had told him to and he was so lost in your essence that he nearly missed it when you had finally woken up.

"what are you doing, puppy?" you asked, your hand shooting out to grip his hair and tug him away from your cunt. he gulped, his cheeks all flushed and eyes wide.

"désolé, i-i... i did n-not m-mean to wake you!" charles stammered, his fingers still stuffed into your dripping cunt, "i just... i did all you ask for today a-and you p-promised me a reward so i thought tha-"

"you thought wrong," you snapped, shoving his fingers out of you. as much as you would've loved to indulge in yourself, you were still awfully tired from work, "tsk tsk tsk, and here i thought you were actually being good for once."

"b-but i am good!" charles cried out, shaking his head with tears streaming down his face in desperation, "i r-really am good, p-please! no, please i've been good all this time!"

it still didn't change his fate as you tied him to a chair across from you, putting a muzzle around his face. his sweats were long gone, so the both of you could see his hard cock aching for your touch that he knew would never come. he bucked his hips into the air frantically, his cock slapping against his stomach as he continued to beg for forgiveness and not this cruel punishment. he had been doing so good, why did he have to mess it up? ugh, stupid stupid stupid charles! he always messed up!

you crawled back onto the bed, a satisfied smirk on your face as his pathetic whimpers and whines lulled you back to sleep.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 21 Chapter 21 | venus rising⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You woke with a gasp.

Your chest heaved, lungs dragging in air like you had been drowning. Your body jolted upright before your mind caught up, heart hammering so hard it echoed in your ears.

Something was wrong.

Your skin was damp, a faint sheen of sweat clinging to your brow despite the cool air seeping in from the open window. Your breathing was uneven, shuddering. When you reached up to wipe your face, your fingers came away wet.

Tears.

You blinked rapidly, swiping them away with the heel of your hand, confusion tightening your throat. You weren't crying—at least, you didn't think you were. But the evidence was there, clinging to your lashes, trailing down your cheeks.

Why?

No nightmare lingered. No fragmented memory. No reason for this hollow weight pressing against yoribs—s, heavy and unshakable.

You swallowed hard, forcing it down. It had to be exhaustion.

Last night—Apollo—the endless music, the warmth of his presence, the way his voice wrapped around you like sunlight. Maybe it had drained you more than you realized.

That had to be it.

Letting out a slow breath, you swung your legs over the bed, pressing your feet to the cool floor to ground yourself. The lingering haze clung to your mind as you stretched, muscles heavier than usual—but not unpleasantly so.

Moving toward the water basin in the corner, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the polished bronze mirror.

You looked... different.

Not in any obvious way. But something about the morning light—it kissed your skin, lingered a little too long, like it knew you. Like it belonged to you.

You shook the thought away.

Instead, you focused on the familiar routine of washing up, letting the cold water shock your system awake. As you dressed, an unconscious hum slipped from your lips.

A hymn.

To Apollo.

Your fingers stilled on the fabric of your tunic, the sound of your own voice catching you off guard. You hadn't meant to hum it. Hadn't even thought about it. Yet it had come so naturally.

A warmth settled in your chest—gentle, knowing.

You ignored it, shaking the feeling off as you adjusted your clothes and made your way to the door. Whatever last night had meant, it was over. It was morning, and you had things to do.

Taking a steadying breath, you pulled open the door—

Only to nearly walk straight into Callias.

The two of you froze, eyes locking in mutual surprise.

Callias stood mid-motion, one hand raised as if about to knock, the other balancing a small wooden tray. A simple meal rested on top—freshly cut fruit, a bit of cheese, some olives. The kind of food you might have grabbed between chores or on the way to the queen's chambers.

You blinked. He blinked back.

A beat of silence stretched between you before Callias let out a quiet chuckle, a lopsided grin pulling at his lips.

"Well, hello, sleepyhead," he teased, tilting his head slightly. "What made you so tired?"

The question caught you off guard. Your mind scrambled for an answer—one that made sense because how could you possibly explain it? That you'd spent the night with Apollo himself, playing for him, singing for him, lost in melodies that dimmed the stars?

So instead, you settled for something vague.

"You wouldn't believe me," you muttered, shaking your head.

Callias raised an eyebrow, smirk deepening. "Wouldn't I?" he challenged, leaning against the doorframe, eyes glinting with lazy amusement. "You were asleep almost all day."

Your breath caught.

"...What?"

Callias laughed, clearly amused by your reaction. "Yeah, it's almost noon," he said casually, shifting the tray so he could gesture toward the hallway.

The words hit like a stone sinking in water, dragging down into something deep and unsteady.

Noon?

You had gone to sleep just before dawn—only a few hours ago. At least, that's what you thought. You remembered the sky still dark when you finally lay down, Apollo's presence still lingering as you drifted off.

And now... it was noon?

You must have frozen completely because Callias chuckled again, though this time, curiosity edged into his amusement.

"Yeah, you were out," he continued. "But no worries. Prince Telemachus told the king and queen at breakfast that you'd be taking the morning off, so no one's disturbed you."

Telemachus?

Your thoughts whirled, struggling to keep up. You hadn't asked for the morning off. But... he had done it for you? Had gone out of his way to make sure no one expected anything from you after last night?

Something warm and strange settled in your chest, but it was quickly buried beneath the lingering shock.

"Are you okay?" Callias asked, his teasing tone dipping into something softer.

You forced a nod, though your thoughts still spun. "Yeah... just—didn't realize how tired I was."

Not a lie. Not entirely.

Callias studied you for a beat, sharp eyes scanning like he was debating whether to pry. But then, just as quickly, his usual carefree grin returned as he held out the tray. "Well, here, eat something. You probably need it after hibernating."

You took the tray with a small nod of thanks, though your mind was still sluggish, trying to catch up. So much had happened—Apollo, Cleo, your parents, everything—and yet, in reality, it had all been just one day.

The realization made your head spin.

Your body still carried the exhaustion of the Underworld, the weight of divine revelation pressing into your bones. Time had been strange since you entered the Underworld, slipping through your fingers like sand. But even then, you had never slept for so long.

"Anyway, I actually came to tell you about Venus tonight." Callias' grin widened, eyes gleaming with excitement.

You blinked, thrown by the shift. "Venus?"

"Yeah," he nodded, his enthusiasm infectious. "It'll be at its brightest tonight. The whole town is talking about it. Perfectly clear skies, the kind of thing you have to see." Your fingers tightened slightly around the tray as something twisted deep in your chest—not unpleasant, but unexpected.

Venus.

A memory surfaced unbidden, breaking through the fog.

"Tomorrow night, Venus will be at its brightest," Telemachus had said, voice quieter than usual. "It lights up the sky like a beacon. I... was thinking—if you'd like, you could... join me?"

The way he had looked at you then—hopeful, hesitant—made your heart clench.

But before you could answer, Andreia had appeared.

Her presence had shattered the moment, her voice dripping with familiarity as she touched Telemachus' arm, claiming his attention like it was hers to take. He had turned to her, torn between duty and whatever had just passed between you.

And just like that, the offer had been swept away.

You had almost forgotten. Or maybe you had forced yourself to.

Callias' voice pulled you back to the present before you could spiral too deep.

"I was thinking we could go together," he said, his eagerness cutting through the weight pressing in your chest. "It's supposed to be stunning, and I don't want to go alone."

You hesitated, emotions warring inside you.

A part of you—a small, ugly part—wanted to refuse. To lock yourself away in your room and ignore the ache curling inside your chest. To pretend none of this mattered.

But another part of you—the part that refused to let Andreia's callousness dictate your choices—wanted to go.

What did it matter if Telemachus was watching Venus with Andreia?

What did it really matter?

You looked up at Callias, his expectant expression so open, so easy. Unlike Telemachus, who carried the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, Callias was light. No burdens, no expectations. Just here, grinning at you like nothing was complicated at all.

And maybe, for tonight, you needed that.

You took a breath, shoving the ache of Telemachus and Andreia down. Letting it settle beneath the surface.

"Alright," you said, forcing a small smile. "I'll go."

Callias' grin widened, his whole face lighting up. "Perfect! I'll meet you in the square after sunset."

You nodded, watching as he stepped back with an easy wave before disappearing down the corridor, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The tray in your hands felt heavier than before.

Exhaling slowly, you closed the door behind you and turned back into your room.

For the first time in what felt like days, you had plans. Not with Telemachus. Not with duty pressing against your back.

But with someone who simply wanted to enjoy the stars.

And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what you needed.

☆

☆

As the day stretched on, you noticed something felt off.

It wasn't something you could name—not fully.

It started the moment you woke, lingering at the edges of your mind like the remnants of a dream you couldn't quite grasp. The air felt heavier, the familiar scents of the palace—sea salt, aged stone, fresh linens—were sharper, more defined, as if you were experiencing them for the first time.

At first, you brushed it off—exhaustion, the weight of yesterday, your mind still catching up to the reality that had shifted beneath your feet.

But as the hours passed, the feeling didn't fade.

If anything, it grew stronger.

Every sound, every color, every sensation felt amplified, as if you had been seeing the world through a veil this entire time, and now, without warning, it had been ripped away.

Something had changed.

You had changed.

But you couldn't explain how.

And you weren't sure if you were ready to.

The sky had darkened by the time you made your way down to the courtyard, the last streaks of twilight fading into the deep indigo of night. Stars pricked through the heavens like scattered embers, and in the east, Venus shone the brightest—a beacon against the endless dark.

You exhaled, wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders.

Tonight was simple. Meet Callias. Watch Venus. Let the night be just a night.

This was fine. You were fine.

You weren't thinking about the way Apollo had looked at you like you were his to cherish, weren't thinking about the way Telemachus had asked you to see Venus with him, only for Andreia to steal that moment away.

No. You weren't thinking about any of that.

Tonight was different.

Tonight, you had Callias.

And yet, as you approached the courtyard, your steps slowed.

Something stirred in the distance.

Not Callias—not yet.

Beyond the stone archway, at the entrance to the palace grounds, a small caravan was being prepared.

Horses shifted under the weight of their bridles, their breath visible in the cool night air. Royal attendants moved with practiced efficiency, adjusting saddles, tightening straps, securing supplies. Lanterns flickered, casting long, wavering shadows against the stone walls.

You didn't have to wonder who it was for.

Then, you saw them.

Telemachus and Andreia stood just beyond the main path, illuminated by the soft golden glow of the torches.

Your breath hitched—just for a moment.

She stood close to Telemachus. Too close.

Her fingers barely grazed his arm, but the touch lingered. She was speaking, head tilted just so, lips curved in an easy, confident smile. The way she looked at him—like she knew she was the center of his attention, like she expected it—made your stomach churn.

But it was Telemachus' expression that truly caught you.

He wasn't smiling.

His posture was stiff, hands clasped tightly in front of him. He nodded as she spoke, but his gaze flickered—to the ground, to the attendants, to the caravan. Anywhere but her.

Anywhere but here.

It was the same look he wore when he was enduring something he didn't want but knew he couldn't refuse.

You should have looked away.

You should have kept walking, let the night unfold as it was meant to—without letting yourself drown in the weight of something you couldn't change.

But you didn't.

Something about them—the almost-blue of her dress, the tension in his shoulders, the way the torches illuminated them like a portrait painted in gold—held you there.

This was what could have been yours.

But it wasn't.

Not anymore.

A cool breeze brushed past, making you pull your shawl tighter, and for the briefest moment, you let yourself feel it.

The ache.

The loss.

The quiet, unbearable knowing that whatever had existed between you and Telemachus—that unspoken, fragile thing—was now on the verge of shambles.

And then—

"___!"

The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, light and familiar.

You turned, blinking quickly as Callias strode into view, his usual easy grin in place. He looked effortlessly put together, as always—his brown curls tousled from the wind, a thin gold chain catching the torchlight at his throat.

Behind you, the caravan began to move—horses led forward, wheels creaking against the stone path as the procession disappeared into the night.

Telemachus and Andreia turned as well, their figures half-illuminated in the shifting glow.

And for just a second—a single, fleeting second—Telemachus' gaze found yours.

Your breath caught.

Something flickered across his face—something unreadable, something buried too deep to name.

But then, just as quickly, he looked away, shifting his attention back to Andreia as she spoke.

And that was that.

Callias came to a stop beside you, watching the caravan fade into the dark before turning back to you with an amused tilt of his head.

"You were staring," he noted, teasing but light. "Do I even need to ask why?"

You swallowed, forcing a small, dismissive smile. "Not at all."

He studied you for a moment, his usual playfulness tempered by something quieter, more knowing. But whatever he wanted to say, he held back. Instead, he threw an arm over your shoulders, tugging you lightly toward the garden terraces.

"Good thing I'm here to rescue you from your thoughts," he said cheerfully. "Come on, we have stars to see. And I, for one, refuse to let you mope under a sky this clear."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, and fell into step beside him.

The night stretched before you, open and endless, the sky above glittering with stars.

.☆.       .✩.            .☆.

By the time you and Callias reached the stargazing spot, both of you were panting slightly, the climb steeper than expected. The winding paths of Ithaca weren't anything new to you, but under the cover of night—with the occasional loose stone threatening to send you tumbling—it felt far more treacherous than it should have.

Callias let out a dramatic huff beside you, swiping his curls away from his forehead with the back of his hand. "You know," he started, breath coming in short bursts, "for an island, Ithaca sure has an ungodly amount of hills."

You let out a breathless laugh. "One would think being surrounded by the sea would make it flatter," you teased, shaking your head.

"Exactly!" Callias threw his hands up. "Mountains? Fine. Valleys? Sure. But this?" He gestured vaguely at the incline you'd just conquered, his frustration exaggerated enough to make you laugh again.

The cool night air brushed against your skin, and as you finally lifted your gaze, the sight before you made the ache in your legs seem like a small price to pay.

The stargazing area had been arranged with far more preparation than you'd expected. Ithaca, despite its deep-rooted love for land and sky, didn't typically host large stargazing gatherings. Most preferred quiet moments, watching from their own homes, sharing the night with close friends or family.

But this—this was different.

The clearing had been carefully prepared, no doubt orchestrated by Andreia herself. Blankets covered the grass while small wooden trays sat between each seating arrangement, filled with fresh figs, olives, and honeyed almonds.

Lanterns lined the outskirts, casting a warm, flickering glow—just enough to move around without overpowering the brilliance of the stars.

Already, a handful of servants from both Bronte and Ithaca had settled in, chatting in hushed voices, adjusting their seats. Others lingered by the edges, watching as the last of the caravan settled into place.

It was beautiful, you had to admit, even if it left a strange weight in your chest.

Your gaze instinctively drifted skyward, drawn by habit and expectation. But instead of the vast, glittering expanse of stars you had imagined, drifting clouds veiled the heavens. The familiar constellations flickered faintly behind them, their shapes blurred and broken, swallowed and revealed in slow-moving patterns.

It wasn't unusual for clouds to pass through, but it felt almost... untimely. As though the heavens had drawn a curtain over something you were meant to see.

Your lips parted slightly, brows knitting as you scanned the sky, searching—searching for the one light you had been waiting for.

Venus should have been visible by now.

Yet, for a long, stretching moment, it was nowhere to be found.

A pang of disappointment nudged at your ribs, though you weren't sure why. It was just a planet, just another celestial body tracing its path through the heavens. And yet...

"Don't tell we crawled up this hill for a cloudy sky," Callias groaned beside you, following your gaze with a half-hearted glare at the heavens. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his sleeve. "If Venus is hiding after all that effort, I'm taking it as a personal betrayal."

You let out a small, breathy laugh, though your fingers unconsciously tightened at your sides.

"Just wait," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "It'll show."

Callias barely gave you a moment before grabbing your wrist, tugging you toward a group already seated near the edge of the gathering. "C'mon," he grinned, excitement buzzing in his tone. "There are a few people I want you to meet."

You let him lead you, weaving through clusters of people, careful not to step too close to the edge of the hill.

Your nerves kicked in when you realized where he was taking you—to a Brontean group, already settled comfortably in a small circle.

Three figures—two women and one man—looked up as Callias approached, their faces illuminated by the soft lantern glow.

The first woman, a foreign-looking girl with deep brown skin framed by a golden-wrapped headscarf, was the first to notice you. Her dark eyes flickered with curiosity, lips twitching in amusement as she nudged the girl beside her.

The second woman—lighter in complexion, black curls tumbling over her shoulders, an air of quiet confidence around her—lifted her gaze from a bowl of figs, sharp blue eyes assessing you quickly.

The man, broad-shouldered with a trimmed beard and golden rings adorning his fingers, smirked as Callias approached.

"If it isn't Ithaca's favorite socialite," he teased, shifting slightly to make room.

Callias rolled his eyes but grinned, tugging you closer. "Everyone, this is ____, the newest addition to my very selective circle of friends."

The woman with the golden scarf hummed, tilting her head. "So this is the one Callias won't shut up about," she mused. "Well, aren't you a pretty lamb ready for slaughter?"

You blinked, caught off guard, while Callias groaned dramatically, shooting her an unimpressed look.

"Asta, that's not how we greet people."

The woman—Asta—shrugged, entirely unbothered. "I think it is."

The dark-haired woman smirked, leaning forward. "You have been talking about her a lot, Cal," she admitted, popping a fig into her mouth.

Callias nudged her foot. "I do have other things to talk about, you know."

"Sure," the man chuckled. "Like wine. And how much you hate horses."

Callias narrowed his eyes. "You're all terrible. Scooch over, we're sitting."

With a dramatic sigh, Asta made room, and Callias pulled you down beside him, flashing you a quick wink before turning back to the group.

The dark-haired woman studied you for a moment before offering a smooth smile. "I'm Lysandra," she introduced herself. "Lady Andreia's personal attendant."

Your breath hitched slightly, but you nodded, keeping your expression neutral.

Lysandra seemed to catch your hesitation because she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Don't worry," she murmured, amusement flickering in her gaze. "I'm not here to test your loyalty or anything. Honestly, I'm just here for the stars and good company."

You offered a small smile, though your stomach still twisted uncomfortably.

Beside her, the man stretched, letting out a small sigh as he adjusted the rings on his fingers.

"And I'm Kieran," he said. "Bronte's Treasury Overseer and resident merchant-troublemaker. Whatever you need, I can find it—for a price, of course." His grin was easygoing, but his eyes were sharp, something calculated beneath the charm.

"And I," Asta cut in, her accent unfamiliar, "am just Asta. No fancy titles, no noble houses. Just a wandering soul who somehow ended up in Bronte."

You nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer presence of them all.

Callias, sensing your nerves, nudged you lightly.

"Relax," he whispered. "They don't bite." He paused, side-eyeing Asta, who merely raised an eyebrow. "Most of them don't."

That pulled a small, reluctant laugh from you, easing some of the tension in your chest.

Kieran, always one to seize an opportunity, leaned back on his hands with a grin. "So, Callias," he drawled, stretching his legs out in front of him. "What exactly have you been up to? It feels like we haven't seen you in ages."

Callias scoffed, waving him off. "You literally saw me earlier today. At lunch. And at dinner."

Asta snorted, shaking her head. "You mean we saw you grab a bite before immediately disappearing."

Lysandra smirked, adding in smoothly. "And even when you do stay, you can't stop talking about your new bestie." She glanced at you teasingly, amusement glimmering in her green eyes. "It's honestly kind of cute."

You blinked, caught between mild shock and embarrassment. Callias? Talking about you?

Callias groaned loudly, tossing his head back in dramatic exasperation. "Oh, for the love of the gods—" He shot Lysandra a playfully betrayed look. "You're all just mad I finally found someone who appreciates my charm."

Asta smirked. "Or someone who hasn't yet figured out how exhausting you are."

Laughter rippled through the group, warm and easy, and despite the lingering tension in your chest, you couldn't help but smile.

Callias placed a hand over his heart, dramatically wounded. "If this is how you're gonna treat me, then I'm leaving."

"No, you're not," Kieran said, rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't dare leave your bestie behind."

Callias grumbled something under his breath, but his grin gave him away. He leaned back onto his elbows, shaking his head in mock defeat.

Asta, still watching you with sharp curiosity, tilted her head. "So, ____," she said, smoothly bringing you into the conversation. "What's it like working under Ithaca's rule?"

Kieran perked up beside her, nudging Lysandra with his elbow. "Yeah! How's the pay? I might switch over."

Lysandra swatted his arm without looking. "You wouldn't last a week in Ithaca."

You smiled, feeling a little more at ease. "It's... not bad," you admitted, adjusting the fabric of your tunic as you as you considered your answer. "The royal family is warmer than most would expect."

Asta arched a brow, intrigued. "Warmer, huh?"

You nodded. "It wasn't always like this," you said, your voice softening in thought. "Before King Odysseus returned, things were... tense. The palace felt like it was holding its breath. The queen was strong, but the suitors brought uncertainty. It was hard to feel secure."

Your fingers traced absent patterns into your sleeve. "But ever since the king came home, things have been different. There's a new kind of peace in Ithaca. He's fair but firm. He sees people, not just titles."

Kieran hummed, considering. "Not bad," he mused. "Maybe I should switch over."

Lysandra groaned and flicked an olive at him. He barely dodged it. "Oh, shut up."

Then, she turned her gaze toward you, curiosity glinting in her eyes. "So, ____, what's he really like?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "Who?"

"The great King Odysseus, of course," she clarified. "Word of his return spread all the way to Bronte. Everyone was talking about it—the king who defeated death itself to come home."

Asta hummed in agreement. "It's a big reason why we're here, actually. Along with the whole Prince Andros situation, of course."

At the mention of Andros, a shadow flickered across Kieran's face before he scoffed.

"The 'Andros situation'—what a polite fucking way to put it," he muttered, voice edged with sarcasm. He stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. "More like the clean-up of a fool. Serves him right."

Asta shot him a warning look. "Careful," she said, voice even but pointed. "Someone might overhear and snitch to the princess."

Kieran rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. We're not in Bronte, Asta. What's she gonna do? Have me executed in Ithaca?"

Asta arched a brow, adjusting her seat. "No. But the way she's moving... she might find a way eventually."

Kieran's smirk faded into a scowl. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah. What a fast one, the princess is," he muttered, irritation laced through his voice.

Then, his sharp gaze flicked to you.

"Speaking of which," he said, tilting his head. "What have you heard on your end?"

You blinked. "Pardon?"

Kieran leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with intrigue. "C'mon. We're not gonna snitch. I just mean, what rumors have you heard? About Princess Andreia? About your prince?" he urged, tilting his head toward the clearing, subtly motioning with his hand.

Your chest tightened at the phrasing—your prince—before following his gesture, your gaze landing on the opposite side of the clearing, where the best seats for stargazing had been arranged.

Andreia sat in a broad wooden chair—one brought just for her—an ornate cushion beneath her to keep her comfortable on the rocky ground. She was speaking to Telemachus, lips curved into an easy, knowing smile. Her hands moved lightly as she spoke, graceful, practiced, but her expression betrayed little true emotion.

Telemachus, however, wasn't looking at her.

His face remained calm, polite. But his eyes were already fixed skyward, waiting for the clouds to part and reveal Venus. His fingers tapped absently against his knee, his mind clearly elsewhere.

You weren't sure why you kept watching him. Maybe it was the way his expression barely changed, the way his body sat there—composed, proper—while his hands betrayed his thoughts. The rhythmic tapping against his knee, the quiet inhale through his nose every few moments, the way his shoulders never fully relaxed despite Andreia's presence.

As if a memory had been scraped to the surface, Callias' words returned with startling clarity.

"One of Andreia's personal attendants let something slip... Apparently, she's been in talks to form political alliances between Bronte and Ithaca."

Your stomach tightened.

How long had it been since he told you that? A week? A day? Less? Everything that had happened—the Underworld, Apollo, your own unraveling—had swallowed your focus so completely that you had forgotten.

Just how much had she accomplished in that time?

Had she already planted her roots deeper into Ithaca's court? Had she secured her place by his side while you were tangled in your own problems, failing to notice?

Your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your tunic.

What has she gained while I wasn't paying attention?

The thought made your skin crawl.

Not because of duty. Not because of political maneuvering—those had always existed, always shaped the lives of the powerful.

No, what unsettled you was Andreia herself.

"...the way she's moving... she might find a way eventually."

Asta's words echoed fresh in your mind, sharp and foreboding.

And the truth was, she was right.

Andreia wasn't just here to bask in Ithaca's hospitality. She wasn't lingering at Telemachus' side out of passing interest.

She was moving.

Every smile, every carefully placed word, every touch Telemachus never stopped—she was shifting the board, playing the game.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as your gaze lingered on her.

The dress she wore tonight was a lighter seafoam blue, not green—a color closer to Ithaca's than Bronte's. A subtle change, but deliberate. A symbol of someone adjusting, assimilating. She was embedding herself within Ithaca's court, reshaping her image to make it easier for others to see her as belonging here.

Beside its prince.

Your eyes flicked back to him.

His hands had gone still, resting idly against his knee. His face was polite, but distant.

Waiting for the clouds to move.

Not looking at her.

Your grip loosened slightly.

For all of Andreia's efforts, for all of her presence—

Telemachus was not looking at her.

He was looking up.

And for just a moment, you let yourself believe—maybe Asta was wrong.

Maybe, no matter how much Andreia tried to weave herself into his world, she would never truly have him.

You opened your mouth, ready to answer Kieran—to say something, maybe that you weren't sure, that you hadn't heard anything worth repeating.

But before you could get a word out—

A half-eaten fig flew across the blanket and smacked Kieran in the shoulder.

"Gods, do you lot even know how to ask a normal question?" Callias huffed, stretching out lazily as if he hadn't just launched fruit at someone. "What ever happened to 'Hey, ____! What'' your favorite color?' Or 'Wow, that's a nice shawl, where'd you get it?' You know—questions that don't make people think they're about to be interrogated."

Kieran let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically rubbing his shoulder as if the fig had done any real damage. "Callias, you are insufferable."

"Selfish,"Lysandra agreed, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

"So selfish," Asta echoed, plucking the remains of the fig from where it had rolled onto the blanket and tossing it at Callias in retaliation. He dodged effortlessly, flashing them a smug grin.

"You're all just mad that I have social skills," Callias shot back, wagging a finger at them.

"You mean the skills of an annoying little brother," Lysandra muttered.

Kieran rolled his eyes and turned back to you. "This is the first Ithacan servant we've actually had a chance to talk to since being here—ever—and he want us to waste time with trivial nonsense?" He shot Callias a pointed look before glancing back at you. "I, for one, think we should make good use of the opportunity."

That... surprised you.

"You've... never spoken to any of the other servants?" you asked, hesitantly. "Is it... forbidden?"

The moment the words left your lips, the energy around the group shifted. A brief, noticeable silence settled, the once-playful air turning heavier, more serious.

Asta was the first to break it. "Not explicitly," she admitted, rolling a small olive between her fingers. "But it's an unwritten rule for Brontes not to be too communicative with outsiders."

Lysandra nodded, leaning back on her hands. "It's about presenting an image—one of strength, unity. The less our servants talk, the more disciplined and devoted our homeland appears to others. It's..." She hesitated, then settled on, "A way to maintain control, I suppose."

Kieran, however, scoffed loudly, completely unimpressed. "It's bullshit is what it is. The whole thing's designed to make us miserable. Keeps us longing for home, thinking about how much better we had it before leaving." His jaw tensed slightly, and for the first time since meeting him, there was no teasing in his voice—just frustration.

Asta arched a brow, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. "You've been awfully bold lately, Kieran." She propped her chin on her hand, eyes gleaming with amusement. "What happened to the perfect, quiet little merchant's son from Bronte?"

Kieran shot her an unimpressed glare. "He got a taste of freedom—of Ithaca—and now he's got a spine," he retorted dryly. Then, as if flipping a switch, his expression brightened.

"Oh! Tadros is passing out wine!"

He practically jolted upright, pointing toward the far end of the clearing before turning to Lysandra and tugging her arm. "Come on! Let's go before all the good stuff's gone!"

Lysandra rolled her eyes, though a faint smile played at her lips. "Fine, you child," she muttered, already getting to her feet.

Asta followed suit, stretching her arms above her head. "I'll help carry enough back for everyone," she said before shooting a smirk at Kieran. "Not that you'd be any help with that."

"You wound me," Kieran gasped, clutching his chest dramatically before grinning and leading the way toward the group of Bronte servants gathered around the wine.

As they walked off, you exhaled slowly, the weight of the conversation still lingering. The laughter and chatter faded into the background, leaving only the quiet hum of the night and the distant murmur of the gathering around the wine.

You turned toward Callias, curiosity—and unease—pressing against your chest too strongly to ignore.

"Is it really true?" you asked, voice quieter now that it was just the two of you. "That Bronte's servants aren't allowed to speak to Ithacans?"

Callias glanced at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

"Yeah, it's true," he admitted. "At least, that's how it's supposed to be."

Leaning back on his hands, he tilted his head toward the sky, his face thoughtful. "But I've never been one to stick to all the rules—especially not when the princess herself is out here making 'alliances.'" His lips curled into a knowing smirk, but there was something else behind it. Something tired.

His words made your stomach twist. You hesitated before asking carefully, "Have you... gotten into trouble because of... me?"

The smirk faltered—just for a second. It was quick, barely noticeable, but you caught it before he forced an easy grin back into place.

He shrugged, brushing invisible dust from his tunic as if the question meant nothing. "Of course not," he said lightly. "Like Kieran said, what could she do to us here? This isn't Bronte."

For some reason, you didn't believe him.

But instead of pressing the issue, you simply nodded in quiet acceptance. Maybe it was better not to know.

A flicker of movement caught your attention from the corner of your eye. A Bronte servant approached, their steps quick but measured, head slightly bowed as they reached Callias.

"The princess has requested your presence," they said in a hushed voice. "She wants you near her... and to play the panpipes."

A brief, loaded silence followed.

Callias didn't move at first, absorbing the words. Then, without hesitation, he gave a short nod. "Of course," he said, voice neutral. The servant inclined their head and disappeared back into the gathering like a shadow.

Once they were gone, Callias let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Well. That's that," he muttered, exhaling sharply before turning back to you. "Sorry, ____."

"You don't have to apologize, Callias," you assured him, offering a small smile. "She would've noticed you were here sooner or later anyway."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if debating whether to say something more. Then, instead of dwelling on it, he grinned—though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're right," he said. "Still—kind of a shame. I was having fun."

You chuckled softly. "Me too."

Callias stood, stretching his arms above his head before rolling out his shoulders. "Tell you what," he said, glancing down at you with a playful tilt of his head. "Tomorrow, let's hang out. No princess, no obligations—just a normal, rule-breaking Bronte servant and his new bestie."

The casual way he said it made you smile. "Alright," you agreed, nudging his foot with yours. "Tomorrow, then."

His grin widened before he took a step back. "Great. I'll come find you."

With that, he turned, heading toward the main gathering—toward Andreia, who was waiting.

You watched him go, the easy energy he always carried feeling just a little heavier tonight. As he disappeared into the crowd, you let out a small breath, shaking off the weight of it all.

Tomorrow.

That was something to look forward to.

But tonight wasn't over just yet.

Before you could dwell too much on Callias' departure, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you back to the present.

Kieran, Lysandra, and Asta returned, carrying a few clay cups of wine between them. Kieran was the first to plop down beside you, exhaling like he'd just completed some impossible task. Lysandra and Asta followed, setting down a small flask with the remaining wine.

Asta's sharp eyes swept over the circle, immediately picking up on the absence.

"Where's Callias?" she asked, brow furrowing.

You hesitated, then sighed. "Princess Andreia sent for him."

That was all it took for the mood to drop.

Asta's mouth tightened into a thin line. Kieran scoffed, shaking his head as he handed you a cup of wine, and Lysandra sighed heavily, settling in beside Asta.

Kieran took a swig from his cup, grumbling, "Figures. The four of us finally get some time together, and she takes him. As always." He rubbed a hand down his face, exasperated.

Asta hummed in agreement. "It's no different than back home," she said, swirling her wine before taking a small sip. She turned to Lysandra. "Does she ever talk about why she loves picking on Callias so much?"

Lysandra frowned, clearly considering the question before shaking her head. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Since we've come to Ithaca, I haven't been as close to her. It's not like before."

Kieran clicked his tongue. "Bet she caught on," he muttered, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Or another servant ratted them out. You know how Bronte royals are when they travel. They love pitting their servants against each other."

His words struck something in you, but before you could dwell on it, his gaze flickered to you. His expression softened slightly, the usual sharpness easing.

"Hey," he said, nudging your arm with his elbow. "I just wanna say—if we made you uncomfortable earlier, I'm sorry. We can be... a bit much."

You blinked, then quickly shook your head. "No, it's alright. I wasn't uncomfortable," you reassured, offering a small smile. "It was nice... getting to talk to others."

Lysandra tilted her head, watching you for a moment before speaking.

"I know you were mostly here for Callias," she said gently. "And you might not be comfortable around the rest of us just yet—but we did enjoy getting to know you." She paused, then smiled. "Hopefully, we'll get to do it again."

Something about the sincerity in her voice made your chest warm slightly. You nodded, gratitude settling in your bones. "I'd like that," you admitted.

After that, you excused yourself, stretching as you stood. The others bid you a casual farewell, already shifting their conversation elsewhere.

You wandered a short distance away, their chatter fading into the background as you searched for a quieter spot. Then, finally, you found it.

A ledge.

It wasn't far from where they sat, but it felt separate enough to offer some peace. The land sloped downward slightly before opening to a ledge overlooking the sea. You made your way toward it, the faint salt of the ocean thick in the cool night air.

Settling down, you placed your cup beside you, the clay cool against the stone.

Below, the waves crashed against the cliffs, the water an endless abyss of dark blue and silver, illuminated only by the moonlight breaking through scattered clouds. The distant roar of the sea filled the silence, steady and unrelenting, constant and unfazed by mortal worries.

Above, the sky stretched wide, stars blinking in and out as the clouds drifted lazily. Orion and Perseus had already emerged, their familiar figures standing boldly in the heavens.

But Venus—

Venus was still hidden.

You sighed softly, watching as the clouds shifted, waiting.

The wind carried the scent of salt and damp earth, the waves below crashing rhythmically against the cliffs. Above, the thinning clouds slowly unveiled the vast cosmos, stars flickering into view one by one. The night stretched endless—vast—as if you were floating somewhere between the sky and the sea, caught in a strange, quiet stillness.

You traced the familiar constellations absently, mind drifting, thoughts slipping into a hazy blur—until a voice cut through the quiet.

"Now, now. Sitting all alone, looking all broody? You're gonna make me think you're lonely."

You barely smothered the startled yelp that nearly escaped, your hand flying to cover your mouth. Heart hammering, you turned sharply to your left, only to find—

Hermes.

The god lounged beside you as if he'd been there the whole time, one knee propped up, chin resting lazily against his palm. His golden eyes gleamed with mischief, lips curled into a lopsided grin that spelled nothing but trouble.

"Gods," you whispered breathlessly, pressing a hand to your chest in a feeble attempt to slow your racing heart.

Hermes chuckled, straightening slightly. "Startled you?"

You shot him a look, still trying to calm your nerves. "Just a little," you muttered, exhaling through your nose.

"Good." He winked, stretching his arms behind his head. "I'd hate to think I'm losing my touch."

You shook your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. But before you could respond, Hermes tilted his head, his grin turning sly.

"Speaking of trouble..." he drawled, voice dipping into something playfully accusatory. "Aren't you a little troublemaker? What happened to 'Don't get into trouble without me'? I leave you alone for one afternoon, and you almost get me singed by Hades."

You winced at the reminder, guilt pooling in your stomach. "Ah..." You scratched at your cheek, looking away. "Sorry about that. I—I really didn't mean to—"

Hermes let out a bark of laughter, waving off your apology with an easy flick of his wrist. "No worries. Lucky for you, Persephone made sure you wouldn't get any punishments. Even Hades liked you a little—but don't expect him to admit it."

Your eyebrows lifted. "Hades?"

"Mhm." Hermes leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. "I gotta say, I'm impressed. How did you do it? I was all set to be the one escorting your soul when your time came, and yet, here you are. Breathing. Living." He made a dramatic gesture with his hands. "Existing."

You cleared your throat, turning your gaze back out to sea as you scratched your chin, recalling the moment. "I, uh... just repeated the phrase you whispered to me. The one about the threshold."

Hermes blinked. Once. Twice.

"That's it?"

You nodded.

He stared for another beat before leaning back with an amused hum, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Huh."

Silence stretched between you, the waves below filling the space with their rhythmic crash. You weren't sure if Hermes was still mulling over your words or simply enjoying the way you squirmed under his unreadable gaze.

Then, his lips curled into a smirk, golden eyes glinting with mischief.

"Besides that, a little birdie told me you've learned of your favor to my insufferable big brother." He gave a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his curls as if the thought physically pained him. "Congratulations, little musician. You're officially tied to one of the most dramatic gods on Olympus. And that's saying something."

You couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you murmured, though something about his words stirred an uncomfortable thought in the back of your mind.

Favor of a god.

Cleo's voice slithered through your memories like a whisper in the dark.

"You have everything, ____. The favor of a prince, the favor of a god. Do you even realize how selfish you are?"

Your stomach twisted. The cold breeze suddenly felt sharper against your skin. You fidgeted, clearing your throat to steady your voice.

"Hermes," you started hesitantly, shifting to fully face him. "Could you... help me with something?"

His brows lifted slightly, amusement softening into curiosity. "Of course. I am very helpful, you know."

You hesitated, heart pounding. The words felt heavy in your throat, but after everything—Cleo, the Underworld, Telemachus—you needed an answer. Even if you weren't sure you'd like it.

Taking a slow breath, you forced the words out.

"Was I... supposed to die?"

Hermes froze.

It was brief—a flicker, a second of unnatural stillness—but you caught it. His smirk faltered, his body tensed ever so slightly before he quickly masked it with a scoff.

"Where on earth did you get that idea?" he asked, tilting his head with an easy grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

You shifted under his gaze, suddenly embarrassed. "I—I don't know," you admitted, gripping the fabric of your clothes. "It's just... things have been strange lately. And Cleo—" You swallowed hard. "She said it. That it was supposed to be me down there. And when I asked Polites, he just told me to ask you."

But you weren't done. The thoughts had already started unraveling, spilling from your lips before you could stop them.

"And then Telemachus—he said favors never end well. That they come with consequences. And what if this is mine? What if—" Your breath hitched, words tumbling out too fast, chest tightening with something raw and unspoken. "What if I was supposed to die, and Apollo changed it? What if I was never meant to be here at all?"

Your voice cracked, and you clenched your jaw, willing yourself to calm down. But the fear had already crept in, clawing up your spine, coiling in your stomach. It had been lurking in the background all day, shadowing every thought, every breath. And now, as you finally voiced it, the weight of it nearly crushed you.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, the cold air too thin, too sharp. You curled in slightly, gripping your arms to ground yourself as a quiet tremble ran through your limbs.

Then, warm fingers pressed gently against the top of your head.

A strange sensation rushed over you—soft, golden warmth eased the tightness in your chest, smoothing over the edges of your nerves. Your shoulders relaxed before you could stop them, the tension draining from your body like water slipping through your fingers.

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

Hermes huffed, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he ruffled your hair like you were a child fretting over nothing. "There we go," he murmured. "No need for all that panic, little musician."

You exhaled shakily, realizing just how fast your heart had been racing. The warmth from his touch settled deep in your chest, lingering like sunlight after a storm.

Hermes watched you for a moment, then clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a smirk. "Look at you. All teary-eyed." He leaned in, swiping away a stray tear with his thumb before you'd even noticed it was there.

The touch was quick, fleeting—but it sent a shiver through you nonetheless.

"Unfortunately," he continued, tone lighter now, "that particular question is a little outside my jurisdiction."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my dear little mortal," he said, tapping your nose playfully, "whether or not you were meant to die is Apollo's business, not mine."

Your heart sank. "So you don't know?"

"Oh, I probably do," he teased, grinning when you huffed. "But that's a family secret, you see. Divine intervention and all that."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he raised a finger, cutting you off.

"What I can promise you, though," he said, voice dipping into something softer, more certain, "is that you don't have to worry about dying anytime soon."

Your breath caught at the quiet sincerity in his words.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment before his smirk returned, gentler this time. "I won't allow it."

His voice was light, teasing as always, but something in the way he said it—the certainty, the quiet weight—made your chest tighten.

A promise.

A reassurance.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe it.

The warmth of Hermes' words settled deep in your chest, lingering like the last traces of sunlight on your skin. It was strange—comforting, even—how easily he could dispel your fears with a smirk and a well-placed touch. You hadn't realized just how much you needed to hear it, how much you had been carrying, until now. Your fingers flexed slightly against your lap, testing the weight of your own relief.

Hermes, for his part, looked entirely at ease. His golden eyes glinted with satisfaction as he rocked back slightly, hands slipping into the folds of his cloak. His usual mischievous grin played at his lips—but then, something shifted.

His gaze flickered past your shoulder, his smirk softening into something more knowing—resigned, almost.

"Well," he exhaled through his nose, "looks like our little heart-to-heart is about to be cut short."

You frowned. "What do you—"

"You'll see," he interrupted, smile turning lopsided, teasing. "I'll be seeing you soon, little musician."

There was something in his tone—something weighty beneath the ease—but before you could question it, a sharp crack split through the quiet.

A twig snapping.

Your breath caught. The sound was close—too close. The night air thickened, charged with something unseen, your pulse skipping as your senses sharpened.

A shadow shifted just beyond the tree line, stepping hesitantly into the torch-lit clearing.

Telemachus.

Your stomach twisted at the sight of him. He stood just at the edge of the light, framed by the silver glow of the stars, his posture stiff—almost uncertain. His dark eyes found yours instantly, the flickering torches casting restless shadows across his face.

"____," he said softly, clearing his throat before glancing away, as if collecting himself. Then, quieter, more hesitant—"Can we talk?"

Instinctively, you turned slightly, expecting Hermes' presence beside you, a snide remark or knowing grin at your expense.

But when you looked, the space where he had been was empty.

The only thing that remained was the whisper of the wind, as if he had never been there at all.

Your mind reeled, struggling to catch up. Hermes was gone. Telemachus was here. And now—he was asking to talk.

You swallowed hard, pushing down the tangle of emotions threatening to resurface.

"Of course," you murmured, voice steadier than you felt.

Because despite the uncertainty, the exhaustion, the unresolved weight between you—one thing was clear.

Whatever Telemachus had to say, you were ready to hear it.

He moved quietly, lowering himself beside you on the ledge. The air between you settled into something fragile yet familiar—not tense, but not entirely at ease either.

Neither of you spoke.

For a long moment, you just sat there, listening to the distant crash of waves against the cliffs below. The wind carried the scent of salt and cypress, weaving through the silence like a presence of its own.

He exhaled slowly, barely audible over the night's quiet hum. His fingers flexed against his knees, gripping the fabric of his tunic like it was the only thing anchoring him. At first, his posture was rigid, but as the silence stretched, his shoulders slumped slightly—like something within him had finally given in.

You turned toward him just as he lowered his head, eyes cast downward, expression caught somewhere between thoughtfulness and quiet remorse. His lips parted like he wanted to speak, but he hesitated.

And then, finally, he looked at you.

His brown eyes met yours, raw and unguarded, holding an intensity that sent your heart skittering, bracing yourself for whatever was to come, and then—

"I'm sorry," he murmured. His voice was soft, but the weight behind it was immense. "For everything."

His fingers curled into his palms, nails pressing into his skin. "I've been acting like a fool. I see it now," he admitted, his tone edged with frustration—though not at you. "The way I've treated you, the way I've kept things from you... I don't know why I thought that was fair. As if you could read my mind, as if you could just... understand the weight of everything I've been trying to juggle without me even telling you."

He let out a breath, shaking his head. "That's not fair to you. It never was."

You said nothing, letting him speak, letting him unravel what had clearly been building inside him.

His hand dragged over his face before dropping limply to his lap. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. His lips pressed into a thin line before he sighed. "Lady Andreia. She... " He hesitated, then forced himself to say it. "She proposed a marriage alliance the first time we spoke alone."

A sharp pang shot through your chest, but you pushed it down, focusing on the way his face twisted, on the flicker of barely contained disgust in his eyes.

"I didn't see it coming," he continued, voice tight. "Not at all. I thought—" He scoffed at himself. "I thought she was just trying to recover after losing her brother. I never imagined she'd have her sights set on me, on Ithaca. Gods, I was blind to it. Completely blindsided."

His jaw clenched, frustration bleeding into every word. "And then I went to my parents. I told them everything." He let out a humorless laugh. "They weren't surprised. Not really. My father, being who he is, took it in stride. He spoke of alternatives—military alliances, cultural exchanges—but I could see it in his eyes." He exhaled sharply. "He was testing me. Seeing if I would choose duty over myself."

His voice dropped, quieter now. "And my mother... she reminded me that Andreia isn't just a princess. She's a girl who lost her brother, trying to secure a future for herself the only way she's ever been taught." His gaze flickered toward the sky, though he didn't really seem to see it. "And I hated it. Hated that it made sense. Hated that I could understand why she was doing this. Hated that I didn't know how to escape it without making things worse."

Silence settled between you, heavy and unmoving.

And then, in a voice quieter than before, Telemachus whispered, "I should have told you the moment it happened."

Your breath caught.

His hands trembled slightly as he flexed his fingers, his expression twisting into something deeply regretful. "I should have come to you," he admitted, his voice cracking at the edges. "I should have let you know instead of making you piece things together on your own. Instead of making you feel like I was shutting you out."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when he spoke again. "I didn't want you to—"

He stopped abruptly, jaw tightening.

Didn't want you to what? Worry? Hurt? See how much it was affecting him?

Whatever it was, he didn't say it.

Instead, he let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. "But by doing that, I made it worse," he admitted. "I made you worry anyway. I made you doubt things I should have been clear about from the start. And now..." He let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Now I've only made a mess of things. Because I was too much of a fool to realize how much keeping this from you would hurt you."

He dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers clenching briefly in frustration before dropping to his lap again. "I don't know how to fix this," he admitted, voice raw. "But I don't want there to be distance between us. Not anymore."

His gaze found yours again, and this time, there was something desperate in it. Something pleading.

"I just... I need you to know that, no matter what happens, no matter what people expect of me, no matter what Lady Andreia or my parents or the gods themselves want..." He swallowed hard, breath unsteady. "It's you I trust. It's you I care about."

His voice barely made it above a whisper, but the weight of his words crashed into you like a wave.

There was no uncertainty in his gaze—only truth, raw and unspoken, laid bare beneath the moonlight.

As you stared into his eyes, a part of you—the one that had spent so long second-guessing, doubting, questioning—shouted in triumph. See? it whispered, See? You were foolish to doubt him. Shame followed close behind, a quiet, creeping thing. Had you truly been so blind to his feelings all this time?

But despite that relief, one thing stood out, repeating over and over in your mind like a mantra, sticking to you like a burr you couldn't shake:

"No matter what happens, no matter what people expect of me, no matter what Lady Andreia or my parents or the gods themselves want... It's you I trust. It's you I care about."

Telemachus trusts you. He cares about you.

Does that... does that mean he—?

Your breath hitched, stomach tightening with a rush of something overwhelming, something far too big to process all at once. It was one thing to feel the connection between you, to share these quiet, stolen moments, but to hear him say it, to know that he put you above all else, was another thing entirely.

Your heart pounded, so loud you thought he might hear it. You swallowed, gaze flickering away for a moment, as if breaking eye contact might steady you. But it didn't.

Slowly, cautiously, you lifted your gaze back to his, and before you could stop yourself, the question slipped from your lips, soft and uncertain. "You... care about me?"

Telemachus stilled.

For just a fraction of a second, his entire body locked up, eyes widening slightly before he coughed, looking away. His grip on his knees tightened, and you saw it—the moment of panic, the scramble for an excuse, the way his lips parted like he might try to laugh it off, to dismiss the weight of his words.

But instead of denial, instead of some hurried deflection, he exhaled slowly. His shoulders loosened, a tired, almost self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips.

And then, before you could react, he reached over and took your hand in his.

The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you. His fingers brushed against your skin, slow and deliberate, tracing soothing patterns along the back of your hand. His hold was firm but gentle, as if grounding himself as much as he was grounding you.

"Of course, ____," he murmured, quiet but certain. "Why wouldn't I care for the one I love?"

Your breath faltered.

Your entire body locked up, as though the words had physically struck you.

The one I love.

The rush of emotions that overtook you was near unbearable. Happiness, fear, disbelief—all of it at once, making your head spin. Your fingers trembled in his hold, and you barely managed to whisper his name. "Telemachus..."

But the prince wasn't finished.

He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly, his other hand covering yours like he was trying to reassure you, trying to make sure you understood. Then, carefully, he shifted, angling himself toward you fully, his expression raw with something so painfully tender it made your heart ache.

"____, you have to understand," he said, voice softer now, carrying the weight of years, of things left unspoken. "This isn't something new, something I just realized. It's been there—gods, it's always been there. I just..." He let out a breath, lips pressing together before continuing.

"I think I first knew when we were children," he admitted, voice tinged with nostalgia. "The first time I heard you singing to my mother, soothing her when nothing else could. You had this way of making the world feel... lighter. Safer." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Even then, I think I was falling for you. Slowly. Every day. In ways I didn't even recognize until it was too late."

You felt your throat tighten, emotion clawing its way up, making it difficult to breathe.

"I always thought I had time," he confessed, his fingers curling slightly against your skin. "Time to gather the courage, to find the right moment. But then everything started shifting—my father's return, Bronte, the favor. And suddenly, I realized how quickly things could be taken away." His eyes flickered with something pained, something desperate. "I realized I couldn't wait anymore."

Slowly, carefully, he reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek—warm, reverent. Your breath hitched, your skin tingling where he touched. When you met his gaze again, it was filled with something so deep, so consuming, it nearly swallowed you whole.

"But I understand," he murmured, softer now, as if afraid to break the moment. "I understand that this isn't simple. That I can't just throw caution to the wind and expect you to do the same." His thumb brushed against your cheekbone, featherlight. "I know that for me, it's easy to say I don't care about titles or expectations. But for you... it's different."

Your heart clenched. He understood. He truly understood.

"I would be a fool to ignore that," he continued. "A fool to act as though this isn't complicated, as though it doesn't put an unfair burden on you." His voice dropped lower, the vulnerability in his tone making your chest ache. "But I don't care what the world says. I don't care what Andreia wants, or what my parents expect, or what the gods themselves decide."

He swallowed, eyes dark and unwavering.

"I'm saying this because I need you to know. Not because I expect an answer, not because I want to rush you into something you're not ready for." His lips curled into a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. "I just need you to know that from this moment on, I will be vying for your love."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"You don't have to take my heart," he whispered, "but it's yours regardless."

Your chest was so tight it hurt, your emotions swirling so wildly you could barely keep yourself together.

Telemachus gave you a small, almost pleading smile. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured. "Not now. Not yet. I just... " His thumb brushed against your cheek once more, reverent, tender. "I just want to spend this moment with you. If you'll let me."

Your vision blurred slightly, a single tear slipping down your cheek before you could stop it. He caught it with his thumb, wiping it away as gently as if he were handling something fragile.

A soft, trembling smile curled at your lips. "Okay," you whispered.

And so, you sat there, your hands still clasped in his, his warmth anchoring you as the world stilled around you.

And as if the heavens themselves had been waiting for this moment, the clouds above shifted, parting just enough to reveal a brilliant glow.

Venus peeked out from the darkness, luminous and radiant, casting a gentle silver light over you both.

A/N: AHHHHH IT HAPPENED!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉 I know y'all were starving for romance faster, but I just had to take my time with it, lmaooo 😭😭. the way I was KICKING UP MY FEET writing this... pure ✨delicious✨ agony. also, I had to keep it 10k—I could not cut it up and risk ruining the tension. the build-up, the divine drama, the slow unraveling??? *chef's kiss*. y'all needed to feel all of it. and that little almost/not confession?? Yeahhh... I needed that. 😌 also, shameless plug-in but plz check out my sis's (k_nayee) book 'Warrior'! It's an EPIC fic basically a 'what-if' if penelope were the warrior tyring to get home instead of odysseus 👀 y'all i'm not even gon lie it's good asf and im mad cuz she won't let me be her editor so i can read ahead 💔💔but seriuosuly i'm trynna not to ramble cuz the fanservices "MWAH" never knew i needed to have odysseus more than his son until i read it y'all! here's link to the other sites shes posted on tumblr, wattpad, quotev

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya

[vrystalius]

I saw your request for "Kokushibo surprise kiss" and i was wondering if you could make it for the others, upper moon two and three?

Surprise kiss

What will their reaction be to be teased with a surprise kiss while being busy?

Pairing: Douma, Akaza x reader

Here the surprise kiss with Kokushibo <3

Douma

Douma was talking with a few followers who were curious about the sermon he just held. He was speaking to them with his signature smile, but you noticed how his eyes weren’t shining like they usually do when he’s with you. He held a happy face for his followers, but was obviously either bored out of his mind or feeling too lazy to be a proper priest today. Perhaps the reason for it is how you’ve been neglecting him regarding affections lately. Not on purpose of course, you’re just busy helping Douma’s followers with simple chores around the temple, like washing clothes, dusting the shrines or teaching the kids about botany in the gardens. It’s fun talking to all the different people in his cult and get to know their stories, although your husband is not the biggest fan of that. Once you tire yourself out during the day, you barely have energy to properly coddle and drown Douma in affection like he deserves it. That’s why he’s been a little less enthusiastic about doing his duties as a priest.

You silently snuck up on your husband while he was talking to a couple followers. The people speaking to him noticed your sneaking around and raised an eyebrow but didn’t blow your cover. You are the founder’s wife after all. You stood behind Douma and tapped his shoulder to get his attention. He turned to face you, his expression brightening up almost immediately.

“My lotus! What do you need?”

You quickly cupped his cheeks and lightly squished them together before pulling him down to your hight, crashing your lips onto his. He jerked a little at the sudden affection you so openly showed but quickly leaned into the kiss with a huge grin. He slowly slipped his ceremonial hat off his head and pulled you a little closer, his tongue trying to intrude into your warmth. Your husband ignored the quiet gasps of surprise and hard stares digging into his back from his followers and simply covered your faces from them with his large hat.

They were spared from the sight but not the sounds of your lips meeting over and over. The followers had no choice but to awkwardly stand there while their founder finally got the affection he craved for days now. You had to push Douma away by the chest to finally catch a breath. He pouted once you pulled away, placing his hat back on top of his head.

“We’ll continue this later, shall we?~”

His large grin and sparkling rainbow eyes are already predicting your fate for tonight.

Akaza

He has been taking a rest from training, watching some kind of festival in a village from afar, on top of a rooftop. Akaza was alone and didn’t want any company for now. Muzan has been swamping him with all kinds of missions and tasks, on top of him training to reach his peak daily exhausted him to no end. He knows he has been neglecting you for a while, so your husband didn’t even want to confront you and hear you complain about him not being around. He knows that you have a reason to be mad but just doesn’t have the energy to listen to you.

Akaza craves your affections and presence just as you crave him. He really does, that man just keeps pulling him away from you. His thoughts kept swirling and running in circles, all circling around you. His eyes were unfocused on the lights of the festival afar and his mind dissociating, that’s why he didn’t notice you sneaking up.

Nakime teleported you on the same rooftop he used to hide from you after begging for almost an hour to her to let you see your husband. You missed Akaza and understood him well, meaning you knew that he was hiding from you to avoid listening to you complain about his lack of attention your husband was giving you. You pounced him from behind, wrapping your arms around his chest and peppering multiple kisses onto his neck. You felt how he almost instantly tensed beneath you. Akaza grabbed your arms and threw you over his shoulder, slamming you against the tiles of the rooftop out of instinct. He seriously thought you were some kind of perverted demon slayer that snuck up on him for a split second before quickly realising that it was obviously you, his spouse. His eyes widened and he quickly let go of your arms and leaned away, kneeling over you.

“I’m so sorry, are you hurt? Humans are incredibly fragile-“

Before he could continue to rant about this being the exact reason why he wants you to become a demon, you pulled him back onto your lips. Akaza grunted in surprise before finally melting into the kiss, resting all his weight onto his forearms, pinning you between them. He silently leaned away and just stared into your eyes for a moment. Then, you finally grunted out in pain and rubbed your lower back.

“You stupid hunk… how could you not sense your wife sneaking up?”

“I told you I’m sorry. I have suggested to you many times to become a demon, but you never listen, wife.”

💠

Of course I’d write something for three of my favourite Upper Moons! I hope you enjoyed it as much as you did Kokushibo’s part, anon!! I just ordered a Kokushibo plushie and am looking forward to have him join Douma. Now I just need Muzan, Akaza and Gyutaro!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3 I appreciate every single one of you interacting with my posts!

[mikkomacko]

mob!reader makes johnny pastina when he’s sick and sings him italian lullabies

Nico doesn’t know how it happens, if there’s a big sign on the door everyone but him can read or something, but whenever a cold strikes the Devils, his living room turns into an urgent care.

Johnny doesn’t even bother texting him this morning to say he’s sick. Instead he shows up at the door at 5 am, runny nose and bags under his eyes, sweating out a fever.

And like you always do for the boys, you usher him inside and sit him on the couch, wrap him in blankets because he can’t stop shivering. By the time Nico makes breakfast and gets ready for work, you’ve set up a full recovery ward in the living room and have Johnny sleeping with an ice pack on his forehead.

Which it must be a tough cold or something because Johnny is the exact same way when Nico gets home from work. Except for the fact that he’s now wearing a fresh pair of clothes, courtesy of Timo who you sent to Johnny’s apartment to get some overnight things and make sure his place wasn’t on fire or something.

Nico’s not very good at taking care of the boys like that but he makes himself a reminder in his phone to send a cleaning person to Johnny’s tomorrow, make sure it’s neat and tidy for when he gets back. Because knowing you, you were already planning on doing it yourself.

He’ll just beat you to the punch.

Johnny barely moves when you serve dinner for Nico and Timo, bowls of something you call pastina that Nico’s never seen before but it turns out better than he thought it’d be. Even Timo seems impressed with it, despite the way he’d made a questioning face to Nico when your back was turned.

“Is it pasta or rice?” He muttered, skeptical and Nico frowned.

“I thought it was like a soup?”

Either way it’s good, filling and warm but not overly so. Perfect for someone who would be under the weather.

You don’t eat with them, instead sitting on the couch between Nico and Johnny, the poor guy propped up on pillows and still shivering as you feed him little bites of the pastina. You hadn’t bothered to serve yourself a bowl so Nico makes you eat bites of his between feeding Johnny.

And he ignores the way it makes his chest grow hot, seeing you fawn of Marino with his messy curls that somehow still look nice and his lazy, toothy smile he keeps giving you, blinking all slow and soft at you. Some friend he is, Nico thinks, not bothering to make sure you eat too, to make sure that you don’t get sick too.

His chest grows even hotter when Timo goes to leave for the night, having helped clean up the kitchen and stops Nico, who is sorting through the medicine cabinet for vitamin C.

“Relax man,” he says gently, “she’s not in love with him or anything. She just cares, a lot.”

Nico’s not jealous, he thinks, ignoring Timo’s words and locking the garage door behind his friend. He’s not jealous at all. He’s just worried about you. Hates that you weren’t going to eat dinner and that you’re hovering over Johnny when it’s clear you’re tired too, that you need a break too.

“Here,” Nico tells you, keeping his voice low because Johnny is falling asleep again, tucked low under the blankets and you’re tossing another blanket over his feet.

You startle, blinking up at him curiously when he places the two chewable tablets in your hand.

“Take them,” Nico demands impatiently after you just stare at him. A little wide eyed by his tone, you pop them in your mouth, the vitamins crunching loudly as you dutifully chew them. He waits for you to finish before nodding to the stairs.

“Five minutes and I want you upstairs and in bed, got it?”

Again, you just nod dumbly, stuck watching him as he softly brushes your hair out of your face, shooting Johnny’s a reproachful look over you shoulder and then Nico heads upstairs to get the bed ready for you.

He pulls down the blankets, lays out one of his shirts and boxers for you, turns out the lights and even puts on the tv show you always watch when you go to bed. But then it’s well over five minutes and you’re still not up here, so Nico is angrily dragging his feet down the stairs to quite literally carry your ass to bed when he freezes.

Half way down the stairs he hears it, the soft lull of your voice. Almost like the humming noise you make to soothe him or Moose to sleep, but different. Because you’re murmuring actual words, the tune of them soft and clear.

He listens for another beat, realizes you’re singing something in an Italian and he can’t help himself. Sinking to the stairs, he sits and listens to you, the burning feeling in his gut turning to something solid and heavy.

So maybe he is jealous, he decides, but he’s also sad. Because there’s this whole side to you, this woman that sings Italian lullabies to the people she loves and he didn’t know. Nico’s always loved that you speak Italian still, that even though it attached you to the family that left you, you kept it near and dear to your heart.

He thought you also kept him near and dear to your heart, near enough for you to be able to speak and do these things with him, even if he doesn’t understand them.

Deciding to let you finish your song or whatever, Nico quietly makes his way upstairs and into bed. Not even a minute later you’re coming in after him, softly shutting the door behind you and he just watches you.

In the light of the television, your hair in a messy knot on your head and bags under your tired eyes but you look content. Like you love doing this, love taking care of people.

Nico imagines this scene years in the future, the soothing Italian song still hovering in the air as you change into his clothes for bed, being extra quiet because the other person in the house isn’t Johnny but maybe an actual child of yours. Yours and his.

You slip into bed next to him, curl into his side like you always do, head cushioned by his arm and Nico strokes his fingers over your shoulder, staring up at the ceiling.

After a moment, he can’t stop himself.

“What were you singing?”

You stretch your arm out over his stomach, fingers settling into the dips of his ribs and he feels you look up at him, try to catch his eye.

“A lullaby,” you whisper, “one my mom used to sing to me when I couldn’t sleep or didn’t feel good.”

Nico swallows, taking a slow breath through his nose. “I didn’t know-I mean I’ve never heard you sing like that.”

You roll onto your stomach, propped up to look at him and he lets you cup his face, tilt his jaw down until he’s looking into your sleepy eyes.

“I didn’t know if you’d care to hear a song in Italian.”

He can’t fault you for that, even if it hurts him a bit to know that you think he doesn’t care about your native tongue, about something so important to you.

After all, he doesn’t give you much with his Swiss German background. He’ll play that song for you, the love one that makes him think of you every time it pops in his head and while you smile all sweet at him when it comes on, he’s never bothered to tell you what it means. Because he didn’t think you’d care to know.

“I care about everything you care about,” he says softly, “even if I don’t understand it. The pastina and the song, if I knew that was something you do to care for someone, I would’ve done it for you baby.”

You smile, soft and gentle, tracing your fingers over the line of his bottom lip. “I like the way you take care of me. It’s you.”

Nico stares at you because he doesn’t know how to say this next part, how to admit it out loud. He just hopes you’ll somehow know.

And he guesses it’s a good thing he’s so obvious because you quickly add. “But I can do them for you next time, if that’s ok? Not that you ever get sick.”

Grateful, Nico smiles, his fingers still tickling your shoulder blade through his shirt. “I’ll get sick if it means you’ll sing to me, hover over me like that.”

You giggle a bit, settle back into his arm and he kisses the top of your head.

“You don’t have to get sick for me to hover over you Nico. I want to be around you all the time already.”

“Yeah?” He whispers, his heart thumping happily in his chest.

“Yeah,” you assure, “you’re my Nico. I want to do everything for you.”

[anna-the-undertaker]

The Boys reaction to a Blue Collar Worker MC who was summoned to the Devildom in nothing but a towel...

I finally did this after so long.... Idk whats happening but I've been on a writing kick recently so we will see how you all like my writing I guess lmao also we are ignoring how mammon wasn't in the room when MC arrives in game cause I'm lazy.

Tags: @lurkingblue @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

part 1

Lucifer

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight before him. A human, fresh out of a bath and barely coherent, standing in the heart of the Devildom, had the audacity to speak in such a manner. The request for clothes, food, and rest was delivered with a bluntness that bordered on insolence. Normally, he wouldn't tolerate such disrespect, especially not in Diavolo's presence. Lucifer prided himself on order and discipline, and this human's arrival was anything but. He could feel his patience thinning, a not so rare occurrence that he worked hard to suppress. This was the human chosen by Diavolo? His expression remained impassive, but the air around him grew colder as he spoke. "You are in no position to make demands, human. Consider yourself fortunate that Lord Diavolo is more generous than I."

How he looks back on it now: Lucifer, sitting with a glass of Demonus in hand, would let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I still can't believe that was our first impression of them. Summoned to the Devildom in a towel, dripping water all over the floor like they owned the place. And then—then—they have the audacity to demand food, clothes, and a bed as if they were checking into a five-star hotel. I knew from that moment that MC would be nothing but trouble... and I wasn’t wrong.”

Mammon

Mammon, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement, couldn’t help but let out a bark of a laugh. This human was something else. Appearing in the middle of the Devildom, demanding food and a place to sleep like they owned the place? Mammon could almost admire that kind of guts, if it wasn't so ridiculous. But he was also intrigued. They were obviously tired and out of their depth, but there was a spark of defiance in them that piqued his curiosity. "Hey, hey, maybe we should cut ‘em some slack, yeah? Look at ‘em, they’re about ready to keel over. Not exactly how I pictured meetin’ a human though…"

How he looks back on it now: Mammon would be laughing, practically doubled over. “Ya shoulda seen Lucifer’s face! He was so mad, but he didn’t know what to do! And then there’s MC, barely awake, tellin’ us off like we were the ones who interrupted their shower! They’re a riot, I tell ya. I knew right then and there—this human was gonna be somethin’ special.”

Leviathan

Leviathan blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was seeing. This was supposed to be the human exchange student? This tired, wet mess of a person who was talking like they had just walked into a convenience store? Levi was torn between feeling embarrassed for them and being mildly impressed by their nerve. But mostly, he just felt awkward. He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding direct eye contact, his facing burning with a fierce blush as he searched for something to hide behind. "This is so… weird. Like, who even does that? Walking into a place like this… in a towel? It’s like something out of a bad anime."

How he looks back on it now: Levi would be blushing, trying to hide behind his manga. “I mean, it was like something out of an anime, right? The clueless protagonist just casually demanding things from these powerful beings… it’s straight out of a ‘reverse isekai’ plot! But honestly, I was too busy being embarrassed for them to laugh at the time. Now, though? It’s kind of hilarious. They just… stood there, barely dressed, like it was no big deal!”

Satan

Satan observed the human with a critical eye. The situation was strange, even by Devildom standards, but it also presented an interesting puzzle. Who was this human to speak so boldly? They were clearly exhausted, pushed to their limits, but there was something almost… primal about their directness. It was as if survival instincts had taken over. "Interesting. They’re either incredibly brave or too exhausted to care about decorum. I wonder how long they’ll last here if this is how they start."

How he looks back on it now: Satan would smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I admit, I didn’t expect a mere human to have the nerve to make demands right after being summoned. It was… refreshing, to say the least. I could see the frustration in Lucifer’s eyes, and I knew I was going to enjoy having MC around. They didn’t bow down in fear—they just wanted a nap. Brilliant.”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus couldn’t help but giggle, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. This human was definitely not what he had expected. They were dripping water everywhere, their hair clinging to their skin, and yet, instead of being mortified, they were making demands. It was almost endearing in its own way, like a lost kitten mewling for attention. "Oh my, aren’t you just precious? But darling, if you’re going to make demands like that, at least do it with a bit more flair. Still, I think we can find you something more… suitable to wear or you could just lose the towel all together."

How he looks back on it now: Asmo would be giggling, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. “Oh, it was such a scandal! A human, in a towel, dripping wet in front of everyone! And yet, they had this… effortless confidence. It was kind of hot, honestly. And their skin looked amazing—I was so jealous! I just knew I had to befriend them. Anyone who can pull off an entrance like that is someone I need to know!”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s concern was immediate but simple. The human was obviously tired and hungry, and those were things he could easily understand. He frowned slightly, glancing around the room as if expecting someone to step in and help. "They should eat something. And rest. They said they’re about to pass out. We can figure everything else out after."

How he looks back on it now: Beel would nod thoughtfully, his focus split between the memory and whatever snack he’s holding. “I just remember being really confused… and hungry. They said something about food, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I could go for a snack too.’ But they didn’t even seem scared, just tired and hungry. I get that. We connected on a deep level that day.”

Diavolo

Diavolo, on the other hand, was more fascinated than anything else and couldn't help the booming laugh that escaped him. The human’s arrival, so raw and unfiltered, was not what he had planned, but it was a glimpse into their true character. He appreciated the honesty in their exhaustion and the way they set boundaries despite being in an unfamiliar and likely frightening situation. "Welcome to the Devildom," he said warmly, his voice cutting through the tension. "We will, of course, ensure you are taken care of. Rest first, and we’ll discuss everything else when you’re ready."

How he looks back on it now: Diavolo would laugh heartily, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, that was classic! I thought we were about to welcome our human exchange student with a grand, royal introduction. You know, something to set the tone! And then… poof! In they come, in nothing but a towel, demanding food and a nap! I couldn’t help but admire their spirit—who else would have the audacity to make demands of a demon lord? Honestly, I knew right then that they were going to make things very interesting around here.”

Barbatos

Barbatos watched with his usual calm demeanor, though his mind was already calculating what would be needed to accommodate this unexpectedly demanding guest. He was intrigued by their bluntness, a trait not often seen in someone so new to the Devildom. "It seems we have our work cut out for us. I’ll prepare something for them to wear and eat. This situation, unusual as it is, can be addressed once they’ve had the rest they need."

How he looks back on it now: Barbatos would smile subtly, a hint of amusement in his usually composed demeanor. “It was certainly… unexpected. I remember thinking, ‘Ah, this is going to be a challenge.’ I had prepared everything for a formal welcome, and suddenly I was considering where I could find suitable clothing on such short notice. But what really stood out was their confidence. They weren’t intimidated at all—just tired. It was almost endearing, in a way. Though I must admit, I’ve never had to prepare a royal feast for someone who was dripping on the floor before.”

The other characters after hearing of MC's dramatic arrival later -

Belphegor

Belphegor, still hidden away, was not present to witness the scene firsthand, but the way the human handled their introduction would later reach his ears. He would find it amusing, this tired human, dragged into a world they couldn’t possibly understand and still demanding rest. It would have made him laugh, perhaps even endeared them to him in a strange way, though he’d never admit it. “I think it's hilarious. They were so focused on getting some sleep, just like me. Honestly, I'm impressed. I don’t even care that they're human. Anyone who prioritizes a nap over everything else has their priorities straight in my book.”

Simeon

Simeon would laugh softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, MC. Only you could be summoned into a realm of demons in nothing but a towel and somehow manage to make demands! I can just imagine the look on Lucifer’s face. It’s impressive—you're like a stubborn ray of sunshine cutting through the darkest clouds. I’d love to have seen it!”

Luke

Luke would be flabbergasted, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and indignation. “They were summoned like that? That’s so unfair! I bet they were freezing! Who does that? Demons, apparently! But you know what? Good for them for telling those demons off! That’s what they deserve for being so unprepared. If I were there, I would’ve given them a piece of my mind too!”

Solomon

Solomon would be grinning, clearly amused by the whole scenario. “That’s classic MC—turning a moment of complete chaos into one where they’re the one calling the shots. I can just picture them standing there, dripping water all over the floor, and casually telling the future King of the Devildom that they need a nap. Honestly, it’s moments like this that make me glad I chose them as my apprentice. They’ve got the kind of audacity that most people can only dream of!”

Rapheal

Raphael, known for his serious demeanor, would hear about MC’s first arrival to the Devildom and probably raise an eyebrow, trying to picture the scene. "So, they appeared in a towel and demanded food and rest? Bold. Very bold." After a pause, he’d add with a rare smirk, "They might survive down here better than I thought."

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles, with his aristocratic air, would be caught between disbelief and amusement. “They really told Lucifer and Diavolo off in a towel? If only I could’ve seen that! The looks on their faces must’ve been priceless. Perhaps I’ll write a column about the ‘indecent’ summons of the human exchange student!” He’d chuckle at his own joke, imagining the uproar it would cause.

Thirteen

Thirteen, with her mischievous streak, would find the whole thing hilarious. “They really popped in like that? A towel, dripping water, and told everyone to get their act together? That’s brilliant! I would’ve loved to see everyone’s reaction. I bet Lucifer’s face turned fifty shades of red. I like this human already—got some real spunk!” She’d laugh, already planning some pranks inspired by the story.

[zeppelin-22]

Shisui headcanons

-Random Shisui with gf headcanons-

🐾 Soft & Playful Shisui

Loves teasing his girlfriend, especially by calling her nicknames like "princess," "sleepyhead," or "troublemaker."

Tickle attacks are his weapon—if she annoys him (or if he just feels like it), she’s doomed.

Loves playing with her hair—twisting strands around his fingers or just absentmindedly stroking it while talking.

If she has cold hands, he’ll hold them against his chest and smirk: “Trying to freeze me to death, huh?”

Loves head pats (both giving and receiving). He pretends he doesn’t, but if she ruffles his hair, he leans into it like a puppy.

💤 Sleepy & Lazy Shisui

Nap king. He can fall asleep anywhere, anytime—on rooftops, under trees, even mid-conversation.

If she’s working too hard, he throws himself onto her lap and whines: "Take a break, you're making me tired just watching you."

Refuses to get up in the morning. He clings onto her and mumbles, "Nope. You’re staying here. Shinobi duties canceled."

Likes sleeping on rooftops—he says the sky helps him think, but really, he just likes cloud-watching.

🍡 Food Shisui

Loves dango and mochi—if she steals a bite from his plate, he dramatically gasps like she betrayed him.

Always buys extra snacks because he knows she’ll steal his (but acts annoyed about it anyway).

Sucks at cooking, but tries anyway. If she laughs at his failed dish, he pouts and says, "Fine, you cook then!"

Prefers eating street food over fancy restaurants—he just loves the casual, fun vibes.

If she’s too focused on something, he’ll hold up a piece of food to her lips and say, “Eat. Before you collapse.”

🛠 Protective but Chill Shisui

Doesn’t get jealous easily, but if someone flirts with his girl, he’ll just smile and casually drape an arm around her.

However, if that person doesn’t back off, his chakra pressure gets REAL heavy.

Would absolutely sacrifice himself to protect her, no hesitation.

If she gets hurt, he feels guilty, even if it’s just a small scratch. “I should’ve been there.”

If she’s scared or anxious, he cracks jokes to lighten the mood but also pulls her into a reassuring hug.

🎶 Romantic & Flirty Shisui

Loves forehead kisses—it’s his favorite way to show affection.

Teases her constantly, but if she flirts back, he actually gets flustered and doesn’t know how to react.

If she ever wears his clothes, he just stares for a second before grinning: "Damn, you look better in that than I do."

If she ever has a bad day, he takes her to a quiet spot with a nice view and just sits with her, letting her vent or stay silent.

Writes small notes for her and hides them in random places ("Have a great day, princess!" or "You better be thinking about me. –Your favorite Uchiha")

🎭 Shisui Being a Menace

Can disappear in an instant thanks to his insane speed, so he steals snacks and vanishes before getting caught.

Loves sneaking up on people. He once made Itachi almost drop his tea by whispering, "Hey, buddy," right behind him.

If she’s ignoring him, he’ll dramatically fall to the floor, clutch his chest, and say, "Betrayed... by my own love... I shall never recover."

Once tried to prank Hiruzen but almost got caught—he swore off pranking elders after that.

🐈 Cat Dad Shisui

Attracts stray cats. He swears he doesn’t own any, but there’s always one following him.

Would 100% adopt a kitten for his girlfriend. Then act like it was all her idea, even though he loves the cat more than anyone.

Talks to animals like they understand him. "Listen, buddy, I know you want my dango, but you gotta pay rent first."

🌌 Deep & Thoughtful Shisui

Despite his playful nature, he has moments of quiet reflection, where he just stares at the sky and thinks about life.

Believes in living fully, because he knows life is unpredictable and short.

Tells his girlfriend he loves her often, because he never wants her to doubt it.

He’s not afraid of death—but he’s afraid of leaving the people he loves behind.

If he ever feels overwhelmed, he just sits beside her and listens to her breathing, grounding himself in her presence.

💌 Bonus: If He Wrote a Letter to His Girlfriend…

"I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not questioning it. If I could stop time and stay with you forever, I would. But since I can’t, I’m going to make every second count. So, if I ever seem annoying… well, too bad. You’re stuck with me. Love you, princess."

Final Thoughts:

Shisui is a perfect mix of chaos, charm, and deep emotions. He’s the type of boyfriend who makes you laugh, blush, and feel safe all at the same time. He’s playful, protective, and secretly very romantic, making every moment with him unforgettable. 💕

[suhkusa]

EGOIST 21.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. angst, hurt with maybe some comfort but you really have to squint, some closure, plot

A/N. it's over isn't it isn't it isn't it over

-> MASTERLIST.

The team you had signed with gave you about a month to make your move. Which was honestly not a burden, considering they paid for everything. They even paid for your housing and other necessities for when you moved to the states.

A month also gives you enough time to hang out with any of your friends or family.

The week that you accept the job offer, you spend it with your family back in your hometown. Spending 7 days with your loved ones before you left across the globe was bittersweet. It was a jam-packed 7 days, but it was still fun. It felt nostalgic to be in the town you were raised in, seeing many familiar faces and buildings.

You cry when you bid your family goodbye. 

“You tell me if you ever need anything, ‘kay?” your sister mumbles into your shoulder, her own tears wetting the material.

All you’re able to respond with is a frantic nod of your head. You crash into your parents’ arms as they whisper words of love and praise into your ears. It all reminds you of when you first left for college. You always were a crybaby, huh?

As you got into your car, you gave them all one last wave before letting the sound of the car ambience fill your ears.

You, for the most part, pay no mind to your surroundings, letting the colors of nature and architecture outside blur into one. Until you come to a stop. 

Only catching a peek, you realize you’re stopped right next to your old high school. You catch yourself in the midst of a thought, a thought about a certain someone. You instantly crush that thought and throw it to the back of your mind. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

———

The rest of your time before the week of your departure is spent with friends or just relaxing. After all, you’d probably get straight to work when you get settled in your new place. 

After procrastinating and putting it off for so long, you finally get to packing. It’s not too hard, since you find yourself to be a minimalist and don’t have too much in the first place. The most packing you had to do was taking apart your computer. Second to that is probably your clothes. 

When the day before your flight finally came, you wound up tired and lazy on your couch. Part of you was excited, excited to leave the country for a whole new experience. But on the other hand, this country was your home. You were leaving so many people behind. So many memories. But perhaps the latter was for the better.

You could feel yourself dozing off. Your place was dark as the night took over the city. You quickly input 4 different alarms onto your phone before finding yourself relaxing on the comforter. 

Knock, knock.

You chalk it up to your imagination or the fact you’re already half asleep. You ignore it.

Knock, knock, knock.

Realizing it’s definitely not your imagination, you think back if you ordered any last minute items. You didn’t. So maybe it’s a burglar. Or they just got the wrong home.

Knock.

Now you definitely need to call the police, because–

“Y/N, it’s me,”

Your eyes shoot open at the familiar voice. Should you go through with calling the police? You did tell him that you would. 

“I know you’re in there, I just– I just need to talk to you one more time before you leave, please,”

You sigh and weigh your options. Did you really want to carry the burden of what the conversation with him might hold all the way to California? Or would this one time be alright? Would you finally get closure and be able to forget about him once and for all?

You’re up and heading for the door when you choose. You open it to a disheveled Atsumu. He had eyebags and his eyes were halfway swollen and it makes you pity him. When he looks up at you, you swear his eyes sparkle a little.

“What do you want, Miya?” you start.

The name makes him flinch a bit, but he continues, “I know you don’t want to see me, but I just need to explain everything to you,”

Did you really want to relive the betrayal he put you through in extreme detail? Nonetheless, you felt bad, you didn’t think ending things with him would affect him this badly. You kick yourself mentally in rejoicing in the fact that you’d make him like this.

With a nod of your head, you move to the side, “Come in,”

When he enters your place, he’s looking around frantically. It’s definitely changed since the last time he was here.

“Already packed, I see,” he comments, “Are you excited?”

You’re confused at his words, but give him a response, “Yep,”

You both find seating in your living room across from each other. “Out with it,” you say.

It takes him a moment. He looks into your eyes, then down, then back up at you once again. His fingers are fidgety as he tries to find the courage and the words.

“I’m sorry,” is what he starts with. 

“You gave me a chance and I screwed it up, it’s no one’s fault but my own. I never meant for the picture to get out, I promise to you that I never ever sent it to anyone. I even deleted it,”

“Then how did she get it?” you question, desperate for answers. You loved your job, but that whole incident made it basically impossible for you to return to the team with it being how it used to be.

Your voice catches his attention and causes him to pause for a moment, “I– She admitted to going through my recently deleted. I was never going to do anything with it, I took it out of jealousy,” 

“But why? You hated me that day you took the picture. You’ve always hated me,”

“Not always, don’t say that,” his voice is desperate, “I don’t know why, but even before we started talking normally, I’d get jealous of you and Omi. I didn’t like the way seeing the two of you together would make me feel,”

Your silence allows him to continue.

“As for Angie, I don’t talk to her anymore. When she texted me that day when you left, that was the first time I’ve talked to her since the last time I met with her. I’ve been ignoring her texts and calls. I ended things with her because I felt myself getting more attached to you as the days went by, and I felt disgusted when I was with Angie,”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you feel like you should say something. You’re not sure what though. 

“Why’d you say she was your cousin? Why couldn’t you have told me the truth there and then?”

“Because things had just gotten good with you, Y/N. At first, I never wanted anything to do with you. I did everything to drive you away, yet you were always on my mind, it drove me insane. And even after all of that, you still gave me the time of day. I felt so lucky that you’d really given me a chance, that I felt like if I fumbled in any way, you’d slip away. It happened anyway though,”

His words sadden you. But you were definitely the stupid one for giving him a chance in the first place.

“From the very beginning, I just wanted to avoid you, Atsumu,” his name causes his eyes to widen, “But then you treated me like shit, just like you did in high school. And I absolutely hated you for it. But then everything began to shift, and it scared me. You became nice and it felt like you really cared about me. Everything changed and I felt myself beginning to like you, and you’d finally apologized to me so it felt like you really regretted everything you did to me,”

“I do regret what I’ve done to you–”

“Let me finish,” he nods in defeat, “So I gave you a chance, and it was fun. I thought it’d be different, that you would be,” 

“But no matter what, we reached the outcome I truly wanted to avoid. It was inevitable though, I suppose. Whether I had let you in or not, you were always going to hurt me,”

An awkward silence washes over the both of you. You hardly realized you had started to tear up. 

“Even now, I still like you, Atsumu,” you finally admit, “But you’ve hurt me so much, I feel like I’ll never be able to trust anyone ever again. Sometimes it feels like I’ll never even love again,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” is all he manages. 

“Your apologies mean nothing, Atsumu. At the end of the day, what’s done is done, and I don’t think we’ll ever be able to be what we wanted to be,” 

He’s crying now, but you don’t move to comfort him. Not when you couldn’t even help yourself.

“I’m moving away tomorrow, away from here, away from you,” you sigh through the tears, “I want to forget everything along with you. I want to be able to live my life without everything reminding me of you,”

“Y/N, please– stay. I’d do anything, just stay,” he’s desperate through his own slowly falling tears. And you can feel it yourself, he’s telling the truth.

“Please don’t,” you cry, his words daunting you, “You need to leave, Atsumu. I’ve heard you out, and you’ve heard me,”

You’re getting up and he’s frozen. You could practically see the thoughts racing through his mind. His eyes close and his head drops before he’s getting up.

“Thank you for everything, Atsumu,” you tell him, words caught between sniffles, “I wish you the best in the future,”

As he walks through the door frame he gives you a solemn look back, “Thank you for everything Y/N, thank you for giving me a chance,”

There’s a pause in time as the two of you look at each other, caught in the moment. You force yourself to shut the door, feeling like if you looked at him any longer, you’d fold all over again. You take a few deep breaths before wiping the tears at your eyes. Walking over to your couch, you resume the position you were in earlier. 

You had a long day ahead of you tomorrow, but for some reason you were calm. It felt like the clouds that had surrounded your heart for the past months had finally dissipated. For the first time in a while, it felt like you could breathe clearly. Your mind was finally clear. 

As you fell asleep in this place you’ve called home for nearly a year for the last time, you’re finally able to let go of everything. 

Goodbye Atsumu.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[stxrsniolo]

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝒕͟𝒉͟𝒆͟ ͟𝒆͟𝒕͟𝒉͟𝒆͟𝒓 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡. 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : alright, babe, heads-up! this thing you’re about to dive into? it’s a total mashup of fluffy feels and angsty vibes, straight from chris’s pov. i tried to keep it vague, bouncing around like his mind’s on a treadmill going way too fast with half-processed thoughts all over the place, just like he’s always saying, so buckle up .ᐟ

it’s late, the kind of late where the house is quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the floorboards.

i’m slouched on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through the mess of the internet; memes, thirst traps, bullshit ads... when it catches my eye.

buy a sensory experience. taste pure desire distilled from another soul.

the words hit like a punch, weird and wild, some next-level tech shit i’d never even thought about. i’ve got cash from the latest brand deal burning a hole in my bank account, and my curiosity’s buzzing like a live wire.

fuck it, i think, tapping through.

the site’s slick with black background, neon text, promising a trip into someone else’s rawest want. slots are vanishing fast, red “booked” tags popping up like warning lights.

only one left, an hour from now.

“oh, fuck,” i mutter, my thumb hovering over the screen. every other time’s gone, snatched up by whoever’s jumping on this hype train. my heart’s thumping but not from fear, just that restless itch i get when i’m about to do something dumb and thrilling.

i smash “buy now,” lock in the spot, and i’m up, adrenaline kicking in hard.

i stumble to the bathroom, stripping as i go, hoodie hitting the floor, socks sliding off, sweatpants pooling at my ankles. the shower’s old, pipes groaning as i crank the knob, and water blasts out, cold at first, making me hiss through my teeth. it warms fast, steam curling up, fogging the cracked mirror. i step in, letting the heat pound my shoulders, my back, washing off the day’s grime, the faint sweat from filming, the lingering smell of takeout.

shampoo stings my eyes as i scrub my hair, dark strands sticking to my forehead, and i rinse quick, soap suds swirling down the drain. my skin’s pink when i step out, dripping, grabbing a towel that’s seen better days; rough against my chest, my arms, my thighs. i dry off fast, water still beading on my neck as i yank open the bathroom door.

“yo, nick, matt—i’m out!” i yell, voice bouncing off the walls as i dart to my room.

nick’s “where the hell you goin’?” and matt’s lazy “what now?” chase me, but i don’t stop to answer.

my closet’s a mess of clothes spilling out and sneakers tangled in the corner. i grab a fresh pair of sweatpants, soft and loose, tugging them on, the waistband settling low on my hips.

no boxers, too rushed.

a black t-shirt’s next, clinging a little to my damp skin, and i throw on my favorite hoodie, the one with the faded logo, sleeves frayed from overuse. socks, mismatched, who cares, then my sneakers, laces sloppy as i tie them. keys jingle in my hand, phone shoved in my pocket, and i’m out the door.

the night’s cool, air sharp against my wet hair as i slide into the car, making the engine roar to life, headlights cutting through the dark, and i peel out, tires squealing on the asphalt.

the streets are alive, cars honking, lights flashing, my pulse matching the chaos as i weave through traffic, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the dash, nerves and excitement mixing like a fucked-up cocktail.

my phone buzzes—some notification i ignore—while the gps drones directions in that robotic voice. “turn left in 200 feet.” i crank the radio, bass thumping, drowning out my thoughts as the city blurs past, neon signs, shadowed alleys, people laughing on sidewalks.

the building looms up fast: a towering slab of glass and steel, all sleek lines and moneyed shine. i park crooked, still new to all this driver thing, slamming the door, my sneakers scuffing the pavement as i jog to the entrance.

inside, everything felt like entering another world; marble floors gleaming, air cool and sterile, tech humming faintly like a heartbeat. suits and heels click past, all business, while i’m this scruffy kid in sweatpants, hoodie pulled up, sticking out like a sore thumb. i catch a glimpse of a girl down a side hall as i move, hair messy, jeans ripped, a vibe that screams “i don’t belong here either.” she’s gone before i can blink, disappearing around a corner.

a woman in a crisp blazer meets me, clipboard in hand, her heels tapping as she leads me down a hall. “this way, mr. sturniolo,” she says, voice smooth and clipped.

we pass glass doors, screens flashing data, people in lab coats murmuring. she stops at a room with white walls and a single recliner in the center, all clinical and cold. “you’ll sit here,” she explains, gesturing to the chair. “we’ll fit you with a headset, inject a compound, then leave you alone. it’s a lucid hallucination with pure sensory immersion into someone’s distilled desire.” she slides a contract over, pages thick with text, and i scrawl my name, too amped to read the fine print, just a quick “chris” in messy loops.

what’s the worst that could happen?

they sit me down, the chair soft but firm, leather creaking under me. the headset’s cold metal presses my temples, wires dangling, and a tech guy adjusts it, muttering about calibration.

then the needle all sharp, glinting, filled with some weird, silvery liquid. it stabs my arm, and i flinch, the burn spreading fast, racing through my veins like liquid fire.

“relax,” the lady says, her voice fading as the door clicks shut. my heartbeat’s loud, thumping in my chest, my ears, and then, fuck, it hits.

i’m not in the chair anymore, i’m somewhere else, someone else’s world.

it’s warm, heavy, like sinking into a pool of molasses. my senses light up, sharp, overwhelming, and i’m in a bathroom, tiles cracked, air damp with the ghost of a shower.

there’s a girl, the one from the hall, curled up in the tub, her hair sticking to her tear-streaked face, knees hugged tight, her sobs quiet but gut-wrenching.

she’s fully clothed—jeans, a faded tee—shaking like she’s breaking apart.

this is her desire? this raw, jagged pain?

it’s not just seeing her, man, it’s feeling her.

everything crashes in at once; i taste the salt of her tears, bitter on my tongue, feel the weight of shouts pounding my skull, full angry voices, faceless, screaming her name like a curse.

memories flood me, not mine but hers: hands shoving her into walls, shoulders knocking her aside, eyes sliding past her like she’s air.

“you’re nothing.”

“get out of the way.”

“nobody gives a fuck.”

it’s a tidal wave of hurt, heavy as lead, and my chest caves, throat tightening. i’m too damn empathetic, always have been, and this is shredding me. she’s been through hell, and i’m drowning in it with her.

she doesn’t know i’m here, right? this is her fantasy, her distilled want, and i’m just a shadow in it; but it’s not wild or sexy like i thought. she craves normal, being heard, understood, loved. it’s so basic, so real, it punches me in the gut harder than any thrill ever could.

she’s rocking now, arms tight around herself, whispering, “why can’t it just stop?” and i can’t stand it.

i step forward, my sneakers squeaking on the tile, loud in the quiet. her head snaps up, eyes red and wide, like i’m a glitch she can’t process. “hey,” i say, soft, crouching down so i’m eye-level, my sweatpants damp against the floor. “y’okay?”

she blinks, wiping her face with a shaky hand. “who… who are you?” her voice is small, rough, but there’s a flicker in it of curiosity, maybe hope.

“just some dude,” i say, shrugging, keeping it chill. “name’s chris. saw you sittin’ here, lookin’ like you could use someone to talk to. what’s fuckin’ you up?”

she sniffs, sleeve dragging across her nose, hesitation in her eyes. “it’s… everything. people... they don’t care. i’m just… there. nobody listens. nobody stays.” her words crack, spilling out raw.

i nod, settling cross-legged on the tile, cold seeping through my pants. “yeah, i feel that. feels like you’re yellin’ into nothing, right? i’ve got brothers, loud as hell, but sometimes i’m just background noise to ‘em. fuckin’ sucks.”

a tiny laugh slips out of her, shaky but real. “sounds familiar. i’ve got… people around, but it’s like i’m a ghost.”

“that’s bullshit,” i say, leaning back on my hands, meeting her gaze. “y’ain’t a ghost to me right now. i’m here, listenin’. what’s your story, what’s got you holed up in this tub?”

she takes a deep breath, unfolding a little, her knees dropping. “it’s dumb. just… years of it. being shoved around, ignored, hurt. i keep thinking if i could just feel normal, like someone gave a damn... it’d be enough.”

“ain’t dumb,” i say, firm, my voice cutting through her doubt. “that’s real shit. i’ve had days where i’d kill to feel like i matter to someone outside my crew. you deserve that someone who sticks around, hears you out.”

her eyes soften, a tear slipping free, but she’s smiling now, faint and warm. “you’re… nice. weird, but nice. i don’t even know you.”

“chris,” i repeated with a grin, leaning closer. “and you’re what, tub warrior? you got a name?”

“y/n,” she says, her laugh stronger, still trembling but brighter. “guess i’m badass at crying in bathrooms.”

“fuck yeah, you are,” i tease, my grin widening. “but real talk, y’not alone in this. i’m feelin’ it with you, every damn bit. it’s heavy, but it’s okay to want more. you deserve more.”

she looks at me, really looks, and we sit there, two strangers in her mind, the bathroom cold and quiet, her tears slowing. “thanks,” she whispers, voice steadier. “i… i needed that.”

“anytime,” i say, meaning it, even if this is just some head-trip tech. “y’gonna be okay, y/n. i can tell you’re tougher than all this crap.”

the room starts to blur, the edges fading, pulling me back and her smile’s the last thing i see, soft and real, as the hallucination dissolves.

i blink, and i’m in the chair again, headset buzzing, my chest tight, eyes stinging with tears i didn’t know i’d shed. i didn’t just taste her desire: i lived it, breathed it, and fuck, it was heavy, beautiful, and so damn human.

╭ ❝ my dears, i truly cherish the affection you show through your reposts, and for that, i’m grateful; however, let us be unequivocally clear: my narratives are my sacred domain, not to be borrowed/reshaped without my consent 

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒ㅤ: ㅤ @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @mattchalattee @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolo101 @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @sturnsblogs @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @ariestrxsh

╰ ★ in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist. 

[jadeddangel]

Creepypast & Marble Hornets headcannons:

Jeff the Killer:

100% sneaks into your house/ room just to wake you up randomly to spook you

If he ever took you on a date it would 100% be to the cheapest cinema in town cause my man's is broke

Your the breadwinner, you can make $2 a month and still be the breadwinner

He buys axe body spray and sags his jeans like a middle school boy and you can't convince me otherwise

Opened a nesquick Powdered milk tub with a table saw cause he couldn't get him open

Doesn't know how to undo child proof locks on meds no matter how many times you explain it to him

"No Jeff your not listening. Press down and then turn it," your voice scolded

"I'm trying! Damn you woman!!" Jeff yelled back

Yea, he never opened the jar right

Masky:

It started with you and Tim dating and then when you met masky you trying getting to know him

He ignores you at first, more focused on doing his job then dealing with his other half's lover

He's smart, he'll pick locks open jars and complete puzzles in no time flat

He doesn't make money but Tim does so indirectly he's the breadwinner

He'll start hanging out with you after getting tired of sleeping on the downstairs couch

He's not nice, like at all, he's very blunt and when it comes to any type of criticism, constructive or not, he's pointing out every miniscule flaw

Don't bother lying to him, he can see right through it and it pisses him off

It doesn't matter your gender or your sex. He's turning around when you change any form of your clothes. He's big on privacy

"Masky? C'mon masky, it's just a sweater you don't have to turn. I'm wearing a shirt underneath, " you sighed, pulling your sweater off

Masky shook his head. "I don't care sometimes you don't wear a shirt under them, and i don't wanna see your nipples," masky spoke bluntly

Yeaaaa, if you can't tell your sex life is totally (not) amazing with man

Tim:

As I said before Tim has a job, he Linda needs it to pay for his smoking habits

Speaking of smoking, he hates when you do any kind of drugs, he doesn't want you to end up like he did

He's surprising clingy behind closed doors and really likes being your little spoon

He constantly takes showers and cleans your shared home, even if no one except for you, him and masky will see it.

He has this bad habit of just buying whatever he craves, so when he goes to the store, expect the bill to be rather high

As I said before he's clingy behind closed doors but when it comes to pda the most he'll do is lock your pinkies together

"Tim, pleaseeeee I just wanna hold your hand! Just five minutes, and if you don't like it, you don't have to keep holding my hand. " You tried to bargain

Tim sighed "fine fine but you're giving me your box of cigarettes. Don't think I didn't smell them on you"

He has a sharp nose, so there's no point in trying to hide things from him

Hoodie:

Hoodie was beyond confused when he first met you, he had a whole "who what when where why?" Moment

You and brain both pay for everything so there's not really a breadwinner

Hoodie is rather quiet, it's not because he's awkward or shy, he just has nothing to say

Hoodie Hates coffee, he's more of a tea or energy drink guy

I hate to say this(no I dont), but he's a stoner, he hates all vape or smoking products except for weed

He usually sticks to weed vapes since it's less work and he can be a bit lazy when it comes to that

I mean his hygiene is ok he doesn't really shave or trim any thing but his beard but yknow he do him

Speaking of , he leaves his beard shavings all over the sink and leaves the toilet seat up

"HOODIE! GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE NOW" You shouted to get the man's attention

Hoodie walked in. "What?" He said monotonely

You pointed at the sink and then the toilet "pick up your fucking mess!!"

Hoodie shook his head "Nah I'm good. Thanks for the offer, though. "

You would probably try and beat him up if he couldn't just wollop our ass

Brian:

He's such a sweet boy,it like he's made out of cotton candy

He's mostly did cleaning and cooking on top of his job but after switching back from hoodie, he's out of commission for like a week

He picks up after himself, and does his own laundry and there's never beard trimmings in the sink

He occasionally forgets to put the toilet seat down but it's rather rare

He's not too clingy but he does cuddle up sometimes

HES A FUCKING FURNACE WHEN HE SLEEPS

"Brian pleaseee get off!! It's the middle of summer! It's too hot to be cuddling" you huffed sleepily

"Shhh just let me hold you.." Brian muttered

Ticci Toby:

Your the breadwinner. Period

You think this man has a job? Hah funny

He hates when he tics especially when you are trying to have intimate moments together

You guys have to be silly during sex especially when he has a verbal tic and just yells bird

"Fuck toby right there~" you moaned out holding onto his shoulders tightly

"I'm so c-*whistles* shit sorry~" toby moaned out a bit embarrassed

"Toby it's ok it's normal~.." you muttered a bit trying to keep your voice even

Toby nodded "fuck I lov-Birds!" Toby shouted

You both looked at eachother before bursting out laughing just holding eachother close

Overall aside from Toby's horrible moodswings at times and his "work" you guys have a pretty helpful relationship

Slenderman:

No, Just no

This man is toxic asf when you guys first meet, definitely a manipulator

He tones it down after a bit but still gaslights you into getting what he wants

When he gets angry, please down run from him- he will track you down and may or may not resort to physical violence to get you to learn your lesson

If you ask about the missing children he WILL gaslight you into thinking that's he's told you before and it hurts that you forgot and won't tell you again

Sex? What sex? You think he would let you even get close enought to see that shit happen hah very funny

"Slenderman? Cmon I'm sorry you know I didn't mean to hurt you.." you muttered softly

"No. I already told you, and you forgot.. it is insensitive of you and unwise of me to tell you again, " he responded through your mind. And though he doesn't have eyes, you could only assume he was glaring

He's not healthy for you, but you've got yourself into this for life and there's only 1 way to get out

Eyeless jack:

Just like Jeff he'll sneak into your room

You literally can't get rid of him

He won't talk or anything, just stand and stares

He doesn't cuddle and he barely touches you

He definitely tried to offer you a kidney as a way of telling you he appreciates you

No hygiene whatsoever, he doesn't shave and it takes a month before you even get him to shower

He mostly just grumbles and groans to let you know he understands what your saying

He's really smart, puzzles, locks ,and riddles are no match for him

He's blunt, when he does talk it's rare, bit it's honest and unfiltered

You guys barely have sex and honestly you've probably never seen his face

"Jack, please!! I just wanna see your face, " you whined, laying yourself over his lap

"I said no, and if you keep asking, I'll eat you. Literally, " Jack retorted

Yeaaaa he meant it literally and you could tell

[savi-our]

Revisiting an old chapter

Going through some of my older works and this is from my fic Right Next Door that's currently on hiatus. Im posting it bc jesus i actually cooked on this, idk what happened to me, was i posessed? How do i match up to this now???? Anyway its based on the Red being soft on a pretty little thing in a bar prompt i did so if you'd like give it a read - fair warning its like 6k words...

Red (UF Sans) x Reader, Grillby (UT) x Reader

The warm air ruffled your hair as you opened the heavy oak door to your favorite diner, the wear of today making your bones creak in protest as you slid slowly across the floor, beelining straight towards the familiar scent of sizzling meat and burnt pine. You slid into your usual seat, wood scraping against wood as you leaned onto the bar in a lazy, exhausted slump, the snowflakes stuck in your hair wafting off of you as you brushed them out of your hair and off of your clothes.

The evening chill hadn't even bothered you, or rather you opted to ignore it as your exhaustion took precedence, even still, the chill almost slid off you in waves as a familiar warmth greedily took you in its embrace. 

“...”

The familiar crackle of fire made the corners of your lips twitch upwards, you had laid on top of your hands, eyes resting as you waited patiently for this exact monster to warm your worn little heart.

“...”

He crackled and you snorted, assuming his awkwardness at you ignoring his approach. You lifted your head, gracing Grillby with your full attention as a tired but friendly smile lifted your face.

“Hey hot stuff.” You drawled lazily, fighting a yawn in between your little quip as his brow raised at your antics.

Huffing a laugh and willing yourself to straighten you turned to him, no matter how tempting it was to sunbathe in the fire elementals warmth like some stray cat fresh off the streets. Then again - you suppose that's exactly what you were. Amidst your musings you felt Grillby grow increasingly twitchy with your lackluster conversation and you should probably cut the guy some slack, he depended on you for the one sided friendly banter after all.

“Sorry sorry, I'm here.” You voiced absentmindedly, pulling a stray lock of hair out of your face as you gave him your actual full attention.

He crackled in response, sliding a menu over to you and you couldn't help but stare at it blankly for a second… god you should really get some sleep, especially since Grillby's eyes hadn’t left you even once through this whole encounter, in worry if you had to make a guess.

You met his eyes, squinting a bit at how bright he was but you noted that he was definitely worried, or perhaps curious, his fingers twitched as he looked over you.

“Like what you see?” you mused with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him and you couldn't help but laugh as his flames sputtered, he leveled you with a glare and you subconsciously pulled away your hands as you felt the temperature rise.

“Is that a yes?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him in teasing, and he huffed , turning his eyes away from you - offended and flames crackling, you snickered at his reaction, an evil glint in your eye as you leaned in your barstool to try and meet his gaze and failing miserably.

“Oh c’mon Grillbs, don't go giving me the cold shoulder, i’ll cry.”

He leveled you with a look as you wiped a nonexistent, fake tear from your cheek and you let out a laugh as he pushed the menu towards you once again.

“Okay, okay uh…” You calmed, letting your eyes briskly fly over the menu before meeting his gaze again.

“Surprise me, whatevers fine.” you answered, pushing the menu back towards him, and he rose a fiery brow at you at your impish grin. 

“I'm serious, just give me whatever, I'm starving.” Grillby didn't move for a while before letting out a distorted little huff and moving back towards the kitchen, a loud pop and crackle in his wake. You huffed out a laugh at the sight but your attention was soon cut short, pulled towards the front door, the cool gust of wind making you shiver as you glanced towards it. A hulking form making its way towards you, the evening shadowing their features under the hood of their fur lined jacket, a glint of a golden fang caught your eye but you didn't dare stare. You turned back towards the bar, pulling out your phone to distract yourself as you waited eagerly for your food. 

You could feel the stranger approach, the floorboards creaking behind you with the heavy footsteps and an uneasy tenseness settled in your spine. It's unlikely that they would do anything, and although human and monster relations were still tense you had enough trust in Grillby to know that he would more than likely step up in your defense if any of the monsters decided they didnt want a human around, or so you hoped anyway.

It didn't mean it was wise to let your guard down anyway.

The stranger seemed to hesitate in his approach, a shadow cast over you as you pointedly scrolled through your phone, the hair on your neck stood up for the few seconds that he seemed to halt behind you, a looming presence in the diner dim. A grunt caught your attention before the presence retreated - moving further down the bar, slumping into one of the stools as he leaned onto the bar with a deep almost growl like grunt.

You chanced a glance at the stranger from the corner of your eye, watching as a skeletal hand pulled out from his pocket and moved to the fur lining of his hood, the snowflakes lodged in its strands falling, but before you could chance another look, the crackle of Grillby's flames brought you back to attention.

You eyed the fire elemental for a moment and he eyed you right back, gaze unreadable as he placed a plate of fries and a burger in front of you. You smiled, your tension easing off significantly as you looked back up at him, grateful.

“Thanks Grillby, looks great.” he hummed in response, nodding at you before moving further down towards the new arrival.

You ate in relative silence after that, not willing to chance a close call with how sluggish you had been, besides, the stranger didn't come in here to be stared at by some overly curious human.

…

Grillby's food had done wonders for your exhaustion, you almost wondered if he had toned up the magic with how much more energized you had been. Your muscles relaxed, and breathing had become that much easier, your eyes no longer lidded as you finished up the last of your fries. 

There were a couple more monsters that sought solace in the warming glow of the bar, some of them greeted you in their approach and you answered in kind. The diner wasn't even half full however, Sunday nights were rarely drinking nights but you couldn't help but crave something magical to finish off the night, the goings on of today had undeniably drained you. The loud and entitled woman, the lean, grim and prim monster and more importantly your down in the dumps coworker. You didn't complain though, some days were just like that - harder , more draining, it was life, and as much as you could whine and complain over how much it had worn you out, some people had it harder. 

You tended to think you were good at that, the comfort, the listening, the watching for signs - not only towards others but yourself as well. You took care to seek comforts in places of your own making, seek out warmth in the colder days, intuitively and almost instinctively you sought out the things that made life that much brighter. Why or how, you had no clue, it seemed natural to you, like taking a sip of water after being out in the sun all day, or a hot cup of coco in the cold winter nights.

You slid your plate to the side and picked up the menu again, knocking yourself out of your train of thought, huffing, looking if there were any new additions as you flipped through it. You couldn't help but feel like someone was watching you every now and again however, but whenever your gaze lifted to look around the feeling had gone away, it was… weird, to say the least.

A light crackle in front of you had snapped your attention up as you glanced at the bartender, squinting once more at the contrast.

“Hey Grillbz, you have anything new on here?” you asked, pointing to the menu as you asked. He answered you with a hum, his eyes moving towards the menu before turning towards the various shelves behind him, lined with bottles upon bottles of various liquids. Some you recognized, some you did not.

Grillby mulled over his thoughts before moving, seeming to make up his mind as he picked off various bottles and a jar or two from the shelves. It was always a treat to see Grillby work, his practiced hands mixing drinks expertly, it made your eyes glint and grin widen in excitement. 

You leaned slightly over the counter to look at him working, ignoring his amused huff before he moved to make your drink.

As he placed it onto the bar you took to examine it, a purple and orange liquid swirling in the glass, it bubbled inside of itself, the appearance of it reminded you of one of those lava lamps that used to be all the rage way back when - it certainly glowed like one.

“Okay, thats really fucking cool.” you grinned, glancing up at the monster like a child in a candy store. He seemed to let out a distorted chuckle, a low and sultry thing but soft, so very soft, it had your brows raising, you weren't sure if you had ever heard him laugh like that. A huff here and a cracklining there but not quite like this. The stutter in your pulse was embarassign if you were honest, but the warmth in his gaze did nothing for your nerves so you turned away, fighting a slight blush as you decided to occupy yourself with the drink, not noticing the slight raise in temperature as you turned away.

Picking up the glass, you examined a bit more critically before finally giving it a curious sip. You didn't expect the bitter tang as your brows furrowed, the subtle taste of orange and something you couldn't quite discern sliding over your tongue, humming in surprise at the slight sizzle that hit the back of your throat as your brows lifted, whatever it was - it was fairly strong. You waited for the inevitable effect of whatever magic Grillby had poured into it to hit, and slowly you felt the tips of your fingertips prickling.

“Whoa what's in this stuff?” You asked, lifting your eyes back towards the handsome bartender, suddenly noting just how mesmerizing the flames rolling up his body seemed. He had been idly polishing another glass, his gaze never leaving you as what you could only assume was his mouth lifted into a knowing smile. He pulled out a laminated sheet of paper from behind the bar, and as you glazed over it you noted that there were various descriptions of colors and the traits they represented.

Soul traits, or soul/magic traits you presumed and as you slid down the list a question formed on the tip of your tongue.

“Bravery and perseverance?” you questioned, looking back up at Grillby and he answered you with a nod, you lifted a brow at him.

“So the colors match the traits?” another nod.

You looked back towards your drink, not sure if you were quite understanding it correctly. 

“Soo- what, what does that mean exactly?” you blurted, turning back to the bartender as he crackled subconsciously.

“‘s just like your regular alcohol.” a gruff voice further down the bar made you turn, eyes landing on stark red, a strangely familiar shade. The stranger from before, it seemed, had decided to join in - a skeleton monster by the look of things, with a rough edge to his voice and a gruff look to his face…- skull? 

“Uh…” you took a second, turning more of your body to face him, suddenly the previous tension you had felt from him a mere memory. “How do you mean?” 

“makes you braver, and makes it last longer” He added, his gaze turning to slide down your body lazily, grin full of sharp teeth lifting, seemingly liking what he sees. Your brow rose, noting the gesture. “Right, well that's a bit boring.” You blurted, only catching yourself a second later.

The startled look you shot Grillby would have been funny if your heart hadn't dropped in your chest. “Not that it was bad! Honestly I really liked the taste and-” A gruff laugh made you turn back towards the skeleton with an incredulous stare as he seemed to take amusement in your effort to smooth over the slight. Your eyes narrowed at him and you couldn't help the huff as he shot you a wink. 

“‘s fine doll, grillbz can take the heat ” you blinked at him, noting the huff Grillby let out next to you.

“I mean yeah, just look at him, he's smokin’.” you blurted before even really thinking about it, your eyes widened. The sharp guffaw pulled you from your shock as you looked back at the stranger.

“stars sweetheart, you don't mince any words do ya.” You grimaced at the comment, chancing a look at Grillby who seemed to be pointedly looking away from you, polishing a glass that really doesn't need to be polished any more than it was - what was up with that actually?

“got the hots for him huh?” you raised a brow, shooting the skeleton a quick glance and noted his shit eating smirk before you found yourself actually mirroring it. As you turned back to Grillby you pointed a look his way.

“...Well I’d offer to stop, drop and roll with him but it might be too hot to candle ” 

Grillby lets out what almost could be considered a groan, a distorted and crackling sound as he turns to you exasperated, the gesture muffled in its intent by the gruff chortle ringing only two seats down from you and it makes your smile widen, brows wiggling at Grillby as the temperature picks up enough for you to finally notice. 

“Whoa hot stuff sorry, sorry, you don't need to bring on the heat.”

The bartender crackled at your delivery, lifting an arm up to his face as he shook his head, you barely noticed as the skeleton moved seats, sliding into the barstool next to you and the loom and doom of his shadow once again prickled at your neck, a subconscious shiver running up your spine.

“careful doll, keep going and he might light a fire under your ass” the stranger grinned at you, his grin sharp as he lifted a glass of… something up to his mouth.You took note of the sudden closeness, but oddly you didn't quite mind it, even as the goosebumps on your arm prickled at your skin, the guy seemed like good fun, even if you were dwarfed by the sheer size of him.

“Aw Grillbz would never do that -  would you?” you asked, your tone playful as the fire monster leveled you with another look. You took another sip of your drink, turning your eyes away from the heated gaze before throwing up your arms in surrender.

“Alright alright, I got it.” you gave Grillby a placating look but as he stared at you and as the low thrum of magic hit the back of your throat once again your fragile little facade cracked, a slow smirk overtaking your features.

“I flame to please, after all.” The disgruntled sigh that leaves the bartender only fuels both you and the strangers amusement, and as you turn to the skeleton with a wide grin you can practically feel him laughing, his grin matching yours with a glint to his eyes, his arm landing around your shoulders making you let out a little ‘oof’ as he chortles - much to the dismay of the fire elemental.

“You like that do you?” you ask the monster at your side, giving him an amused once over as he turns to you, a deep red sparkle in his eyes and a sharp glint to his golden tooth.

“what can i say, i lava good fire pun, but you're more than sparkin’ my interest dollface.” he winks, a flirty tilt to his tone which was a sharp contrast to the distorted groan from Grillby, much to his delight however, a group of bunny monsters entered the bar and he gladly took his exit, leaving you with your newfound friend. Or at least you hope he was friendly, all things considered.

“Tickled your funny bone did I?” you smirked back at him, a playful glint in your eye as his grin widened.

“one of em sure” he responded and you snorted.

“Oh yeah? Which one?” you asked with raised brows glancing down and back up pointedly, leaning in slightly as you felt the weight of his arm on your shoulders shifting. For a guy made entirely of bone he seemed pretty big, heavy, if his gaze was anything to go by.

“stars ya aint shy either are ya kitten” his voice lifted as he kept his eyes locked on you, squeezing your shoulders which made you shift your weight closer to him, whether it was on purpose or not, you didn't know.

“Yeah well, neither are you, fangs.” You quipped, taking another sip of your drink, careful to pace yourself in the midst of your new companion. The skeleton seemed friendly, very friendly if his roaming eyes and sharp grin were anything to go by, and whilst you enjoyed the attention more now that you had a bit of liquid courage, you didn't plan on bringing anyone home tonight, especially not someone who you've known for barely a few minutes.

“fangs?” he questioned, making you turn your eyes back to him, leaning back in your stool.

“I'd call you by your name if you gave me one.” he hummed, finishing off his own drink, 

“‘names red, but you can call me anything you'd like dollface” he winked, feeling a squeeze on your shoulder before he moved his hand away, an easy and sharp grin on his face, a look almost signature to him or so it seemed.

“Oh yeah? Anything at all?” the glint in your eye was downright evil as he shot you a dirty look, Red turned slightly and it was then that you fully took notice of his appearance. A blood red collar with golden studs sat right below his chin clasped tightly around a matching thick, red turtleneck. He was sporting some shorts, odd for the weather and seemingly completely throwing the point of his jacket, but you weren't one to question it, especially not as he leaned in, a dangerous, sharklike smirk pulling on his features as he stopped just short of your face. You were sure he felt the stutter in your breath on his teeth, a thought that made you gulp, your eyes wide as they stared up at two glowing red ones.

“anythin at all dollface, so long as i get ta return the favor.” his voice was low, low , a deep grumble that made your insides almost vibrate in tandem. You couldn't help but stare at him, like some sort of deer in headlights, struggling to fight a flush from your face and he noticed, his grin widening, knowing .

The sudden knock on wood made you snap back to reality, eyes shooting back towards the bar and were met with Grillby's stare, it wasn't one you could read given the situation, and for some reason you didn't really want to right now. The barman had placed a new drink next to Red, something yellow in a short glass that you couldn't make out. 

The skeleton grunted, whether it was due to your retreat, the sudden intrusion or in thanks for the drink you couldn't tell. You took a good long sip of your own drink, finishing it off - you felt like you needed it after whatever that was.

You could feel Grillby's own gaze directed at you, but you didnt turn to meet it, pushing your glass over to him lightly and after a second or two he took it from you, your hand twitching as his flames brushed over your fingertips. You knew Grillby's fire was not like regular old fire, he seemed to regulate his temperature with a practiced ease at his own convenience, but survival instincts were no joke - you noted for the second time today, so no matter what your brain told you, your nervous system reminded you that fire equals bad, a reflex you couldn't help but feel bad about. You looked up at him, his expression still unreadable as he placed your glass with the rest of the dirty ones, due for a wash later or so you assumed.

You glanced back at the menu still sitting nearby in an attempt to distract your skittering thoughts, trying to decide whether or not you wanted another boost of liquid courage. You weren't a lightweight by any means but a pleasant buzz seemed to settle your nerves already and as you glanced over the menu you weighed your options. Magic drinks were strong, even the ones light on magic, something about how humans and monsters took to it differently, it seemed all the monster drinks were strong for humans, and from what you knew all of the humans regular drinks were strong for monsters - some weird physiological thing apparently.

“what ya gettin?” Red pulled you from your thoughts, making you glance up at him, your embarrassment drowning in the light of your buzz. “Not sure…” you muttered, pulling your eyes away from him and back to the menu undecided. You hummed but soon lifted your eyes back to the skeleton, shooting the drink in his hand a curious look.

“What did you get?” curiosity peaked, especially considering how his smirk stretched. Red pushed the glass your way, a brow bone raised.

You gave him a skeptical look, eyes squinting as you eyed the glass, glancing towards Grillby for a second before throwing caution to the wind. That bravery/perseverance thing was really no joke.

You lifted the glass up to your nose, giving it a cautionary sniff which made Reds grin only widen before taking a sip, it was then you realized that a mistake was made somewhere along the way. Your face must have been real funny, considering how much of a laugh Red had gotten out of it. Your nose scrunched in a grimace as the taste hit your tongue, just barely keeping yourself from gagging.

“Christ is that mustard ?” you groaned out, still cringing back from the taste as you set the cup promptly down, pushing it right back into Reds hands.

“stars sweetheart you shoulda seen your face” he chortled, lifting up a hand to rub away a tear, his shoulders still shaking in amusement. You turned to Grillby, an incredulous look on your face. You found that the barman had seemed amused by your reaction, he lifted a knuckle to his mouth, keeping himself from laughing in a crackle.

“That stings, fucking hell, what else is in that, rum?!” you asked in an outrage, making Red shoot you an approving look.

“you have good nose kitten, ‘ts a screwdriver” 

“That is anything but a screwdriver” You disagreed, tickling his hypothetical funny bone even more if the chuckle was anything to go by. Red shrugged, picking up the glass and downing it in one and you cringed at the sight. “anythin’s a screwdriver if you want it to be” he shrugged, his everlasting grin on his face.

“That is not how that works.” you disagree, shooting him a look. “Why mustard? Why not literally anything else?” He shrugged again, handing over his glass to Grillby for a refill.

“jus’ like it” he grunted in thanks as you watched in abject horror as Grillby mixed his drink and slid it across the bar.

…

Time passed easily in Reds and Grillbys company, conversation flowed freely as both you and Red made it a pointed effort to torment the fire elemental at every opportunity, trading flame related puns and pick up lines at your own discretion. It had been a surprise how easily Red had joined in your shenanigans, his laugh hearty as a particularly dirty one liner slid past your lips, one that made your knuckles sting as the heat picked up, the barman sounding his disapproval in the only way he knew how. 

Even so he didn't deny you your fun, refilling your drink for the third time tonight, something light so you could still keep your wits about you - a wise decision considering the downright dirty look Red shot you moments prior. Red seemed rather charming, in an odd - gruff and mean sort of way, his pickup lines aimed more at you rather than Grillby, but you couldn't help but enjoy them, the attention flattering and one liners witty, despite the growing slur to his words. 

It was half past two in the morning when you finished your drink, a number that made you blanch once you had checked your phone. It was late, much later than you had intended, especially considering the early morning classes you were expected to attend. You grunted, pocketing your phone as you pushed your now empty glass away, expression souring. 

“everything' alright dollface?” Red quipped at your side, words lazy as they slipped past his teeth and you turned to him, noting how he was leaning more of his weight onto the bar. Now that you thought to yourself, the skeleton had been throwing back drink after drink, his glass empty in two long chugs. How many of those had he actually had? Whatever the number it concerned you, especially considering the fact he had indulged in a human specialty.

“Yeah, I'm more worried about you to be honest.” His brow raised at your words, and a rolling hum sounded from deep within his chest.

“oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, you look just about ready to call it a night.” You leveled him with a look, noting his snort, pawing at the glass sat in front of him.

“i’d rather call you t’night” his flirty comment lazy, probably due to the influence. Despite his claims to be ‘jus’ fine dollface’ you hadn't believed him. It was conflicting - on one hand he was a big boy, perfectly capable of making his own decisions, he certainly wouldn't be in danger even if you left him there, not under Grillby's watchful eye and considering the air of sharp magic wafting off him - you hardly thought anyone would bother him. On the other hand he looked positively sloshed, even you could tell in your haze. 

A sigh escaped you, feeling yourself sobering slightly. It wasn't really your problem, he was just some guy with a knack for one liners that had made your evening, but you could at least call him a cab - or something.

“Okay big guy if you say so, I probably should be heading off though.” You patted his back and he gave you a soft grunt in response, you glanced at Grillby to note that he was already calculating your tab, only to be interrupted by Red as he stopped the barman in his tracks.

“put those on me will ya’?” He slurred and you shot him a look.

“You don't have to do that Red-”

“don’t worry about it sweetcheeks, t’s my treat.” Red lifted, his weight shifting, lazily he straightened and it's only then that you managed to gauge his full height. He was only about two heads taller than you but you still felt downright dwarfed as he shot a look down at you, his grin easy.

“why dontcha lemme walk ya home as thanks” Oh this seemed like a loaded question if you've ever heard one, his expression betrayed him, his grin wide and eyes lidded. You hummed and gave him a skeptical onceover.

“ Just walk me home?” 

“unless ya have anythin else in mind…” he hummed, and it took everything in you to stop the shiver that threatened to roll down your spine at the intensity in his pointed gaze. You hummed in response, teeth catching lip as you squinted up at him in amusement.

“Can't say that I do…” you trailed off, your knowing smile betraying your little lie, Red shot you a look that told you he had caught on, but he didnt point it out, instead he shrugged as he turned towards the front door, lifting a hand to your lower back in encouragement to keep in step with him.

“c’mon dollface, ‘ts dark out, don't want me to worry do ya?” He quipped and you hummed in return. You had to admit, walking through the city in the dark early hours all by yourself was less than appealing, and even though you didn't know if showing Red where you had lived was a good idea, something told you that he wouldn't push even if you told him no - then again that might be the alcohol talking.

“Okay fine.” you relented with a light air to your tone. You turned back to Grillby, exchanging your goodbyes before heading off into the night with Red.

The night air was freezing and you couldn't help the full body shiver at the contrast, your breath showing as you muttered a quiet curse under it, Red lifted his arm around your shoulders and drew you towards him, a gesture that made you tense slightly but unable to resist the subtle warmth of his jacket, you let him pull you along.

Red engaged you in light conversation as you walked, throwing general and silly questions your way like your favorite color or favorite season - all of them tinged in a playful and flirty subtext but as you indulged his curiosities you began to realize that most of them had no real heat to it. It seemed friendly, rather than anything else and slowly you felt yourself relaxing in his casual hold. It was… nice, he was being nice, and as the revelation hit you you realized that his once loaded question of walking you home seemed genuine. Perhaps you had misjudged him, the thought heavy on your mind but you could hardly be blamed for it - when a monster like Red pulls you into the night, it's only reasonable to keep your guard up, you don't think you could do much if he were more criminally inclined after all. You barely knew him, a fact that you wanted to rectify now that you knew he meant you no real harm.

As you approached the beat down apartment building you knew to be your home, you laughed at one of Red's shitty little pickup lines, his eyes glinting at you as you turned towards the front door - it was then that you felt him pull away and stop in his tracks.

“uh doll?” he voiced, making you turn to him in question.

“Yeah?”

“what’cha.. uh wat’cha doing?” you watched him shift on his feet, old sneakers scraping the fresh snow on the concrete, his expression serious, if not almost suspicious.

“Going home?” You asked him, tone unsure.

“you… you live here ?” he questioned again and you weren't quite sure if you liked where this was going, cautious of the shift in his tone.

“Uh.. yeah?” 

He stared at you for a while, gooseflesh prickling as you felt him almost look through you before a hum rumbled from his chest.

“Everything uh… everything okay?” You questioned again, and he hummed again, stoic, before he moved to your side and pushed open the door for you, motioning a go ahead. This was odd, very odd, you didn't like it.

“jus fine dollface, lemme walk ya to your door” he motioned and you abided despite yourself, still on edge but willing to give him some benefit of the doubt. You hoped you weren't making a huge mistake.

As you walked into the stairway you pointedly avoided the elevator, there was no way in hell you were going to cram yourself into a closed tiny space with Red when he was setting off your alarm bells, and as you climbed floor after floor you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention as you felt his eyes on you, you didn't like it, especially after hearing him mutter something along the lines of ‘no way..’ and ‘lucky’ from behind you, your senses on edge and stomach falling.

You didn't like this.

As you reached the fifth floor and opened the door to the apartments you were just about ready to make a run for your apartment - maybe you should? 

You jumped as you heard a loud snort behind you, and warily you turned a cautious look behind you to see Red looking… amused? 

“Okay Red you are starting to really creep me out here.” You admitted and he laughed as you stared at him in a wide, confused and worried stupor, he waved a hand in a dismissive gesture as the look on his face turned relaxed.

“my bad doll, but uh, ya live here?” He questioned again and your brow rose.

“Yeah?” You glanced at your apartment door, moving to stand in front of it, still contemplating just bolting.

“well ain't that a treat.” he huffed, his tone still amused as he moved past you, you picked up a jingle in his pocket as he stopped two doors down.

“Huh?” 

He lifted a glinting set of keys out of his jacket, jingling them your way with a knowing look. You stared at him in confusion before he snorted and lifted the key up to the door and…unlocked it.

“Okay hold on a second…” You stopped him in his tracks as he shot you a raised eyebrow.

“We’re-”

“neighbors.” 

…

“No fucking way.” 

Reds snort echoed through the hallway at the disbelief on your face, his laugh returning to him as you just stared. Of course he was your neighbor, he was a skeleton! It made so much fucking sense you cursed yourself for not realizing it sooner. You had never seen a skeleton monster in town before, your first time seeing one was Papyrus - his family moved in next door, how had you missed that? It was almost obvious, but what the hell?

“Why didn't you just tell me?! You almost gave me a heart attack, jesus…” You whined, lifting a hand to your chest as relief finally flooded through you, Reds hearty laugh didn't help matters.

“you didn't ask” he quipped and you shot him a dirty look, nose scrunching which only made his grin widen.

“You're horrible.”

“ya’ don't mean that doll.” 

You crossed your arms at him as he shot you a knowing look, his grin smug as you shot him a little pout.

“c’mon don't give me that dollface.” He prodded and you sighed in response. “Fine.” you huffed and his expression lightened, still tinged in that smugness of his.

“ ‘ts gettin late” he reminded you and shot you a guiding look towards your apartment door, one you mirrored as you sighed.

“Yeah it is… I should go.” He hummed at you, turning to fling open his own door as you pulled out your keys.

“g’night dollface.”

“Goodnight Red.” you huffed as you opened the door, giving him a parting look before finally making your escape into the comforting warmth of your apartment. Locking the door you let your shoulders droop - it had been a long day and despite the multiple scares throughout the evening you couldn't help but feel… content, in an odd, weird way.

It seems like things were changing, living in this shitty little apartment becoming akin to a rollercoaster ride, but perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing, perhaps you'd enjoy it more than you were willing to admit. Whatever the case, it was time for bed, and as you took to your late evening routine you couldn't help the smile playing on your lips.