falsedivide

[falsedivide]

megumi asks you to teach him how to kiss

"Hey (name)?"

"Hm?" you hum, glancing up at Megumi. "Yes, sweetheart?"

You watch curiously as your boyfriend slowly turns a shade of pink, twiddling his thumbs nervously on his lap. "Uhm," he starts to say, "Can- can you teach me how to kiss?"

"How to kiss?" you echo, frowning. "Why?"

"Well..." Megumi scratched the back of his neck shyly. "I've never actually kissed anybody yet, and uh, some people were making fun of me a while ago for being so 'inexperienced', so I," he inhales and exhales deeply, "I want to learn how to kiss. Or uhm, how to kiss you well. Please you."

Red slowly creeps up on the back of your neck, and although the offer was tempting, you were concerned. "Are you sure, Megumi? What people say don't matter, you know that, right? We don't have to do anything for them."

Megumi stared at his lap for a moment before mumbling, "I know but... I- I just wanna prove them wrong. Even if they won't see it."

You sighed, moving over the coach to hug Megumi tightly. "Okay." You mumbled on his shoulder. "I'll teach you."

Moving away from Megumi, you clasped your hands together, a serious expression on your face. You reached for Megumi's face, turning it to face yours. You took a deep breath. "okay, so first of all, you need to learn how to ease yourself onto my lips."

"Ease myself?" Megumi echoed, biting his lips anxiously. "Like- like this?" He slowly leaned over to you, stopping an inch away.

"Like that." You whispered. You picked up his hand and slid it up the nape of your neck, feeling him shiver as he felt your skin on his palm.

"Put your other hand on my cheek." You instructed. Megumi exhaled, lifting his trembling hand and cupping your cheek with it.

"Mhm, just like that," you breathe, slowly wrapping your arm around the neck of the boy in front of you, your other hand flat on the couch for balance.

"Now what?" Megumi asks you, his breath fanning across your face.

"Follow my lead," you mumbled, and leaned forward, gently pressing your lips on his. He tenses up for a moment, his fingers on your neck twitching slightly, before forcing himself to relax. You were surprised at how soft his lips were for a boy who's always so... moody.

You started it slowly, moving against his tentative lips, tilting your head from time to time to get a better grip. "You're getting the hang of this," you said softly against his lips, smiling gently. Megumi nodded and eagerly connected your lips again. He's a natural, you thought to yourself.

Megumi pulled apart from you, taking a shuddering breath of air. "I think I'm getting the hang of it." He whispered, his lips slightly flushed.

"Oh sweetheart, this is only the start of it," you said, a slight chuckle leaving your lips. "Keep following my lead. Now I'm going to add the tongue."

"The... the tongue?" Megumi's eyes widened, pulling back a little in hesitation.

You pat his cheek in reassurance. "It's gonna be okay, sweetheart, I'll guide you through it."

You adjusted your position on the couch, lifting yourself up and sitting on Megumi's lap. The boy looked at you in surprise, confusion glimmering in his blue-green irises which you loved so much.

"Just trust me," you said gently, pulling his hand to graze your waist, his fingers twitching against your skirt nervously. His other hand remained on your neck, and your left arm stayed on his, your right cupping his cheek. You saw Megumi's throat bob as he swallowed heavily, leaning up to meet you in the middle.

This time, your mouths fit almost perfectly, synchronized as you moved it against his. You then stuck your tongue out, nudging it against his lips. Megumi visibly stiffened, and you pulled away for a moment to quickly whisper, "When I stick my tongue out, open your mouth."

He nodded and followed, allowing your tongue to enter and slowly explore his lips. You felt Megumi shudder underneath you, involuntarily leaning forward and helping your tongue to further go into his mouth.

"Move your tongue with mine." You murmured against his lips, putting your tongue in again. You felt the hesitation in Megumi's tongue as it moved slowly with yours, struggling to get used to the feeling. You swirled your tongue with his slowly, allowing him to adjust, which he did, almost naturally.

While it may not be your first time to make out with somebody, you were certainly aroused. You loved Megumi, never really lusted him, but now you felt that beginning to change as he got the hang of it, heat blooming in your chest. You picked up the pace, your tongues grappling with one another in a messy battle of love, lust, and everything in between. And now that he had gotten the hang of it, you realized how good he really felt.

You began grinding on him, your hips rolling and rubbing against his crotch, of which you felt a large bulge forming. Megumi moaned lowly into your mouth, and you shivered at the vibration, kissing him harder, deeper. All thoughts of control abandoned the two of you, and you pulled him flush against you, your hands roaming up his shirt, a moan escaping your lips. You felt Megumi's hips stutter, thrusting against you from time to time. You arched into him, almost subconsciously tugging at his belt.

Suddenly, Megumi pulled back, inhaling sharply. "Wait."

"What?" You whispered, gazing at the boy you were on top of. His hair was messy, face flushed, lips red and glossy. Even his eyes were dazed and unfocused, and you thought it looked so hot on him.

"Uhm, I don't think I'm really ready for anything past kissing." Megumi said, his face an embarrassed shade of red.

"Oh."

"Don't get me wrong!" Megumi quickly said, "I would... love to do it with you. I just- I think I wanna take this slow."

A soft smile spread across your face. "Of course, Megumi." You leaned down and kissed him again, slow and sweet, full of promise. "We'll take this as slow as you want to."

Megumi sighed in relief, touching his lips as if he still couldn't believe that he had just done that.

"You're a natural, Guro." You said, a slight smile on your face.

"I am?" He murmured, blushing and adjusting his wrinkled shirt. "I mean... I'd definitely like to do that again." he added, his voice barely louder than a whisper. You smiled affectionately at him, your eyes softening.

"Anytime you want to, sweetheart."

[falsedivide]

Slow Dancing In The Dark

christmas au! inumaki x reader

a lonely party. a purple collar. a song. and a kiss.

—a perfect christmas

Snow falls all around you, fluffy and white in the cold december air. You shiver, hands in your coat pockets and walk faster, past the bright green and red lights all around you.

Christmas time. The time where everyone is in good spirits, cheery and exchanging gifts and greetings. You loved Christmas; but this year seemed to be lonelier than the rest.

You winced as the cold breeze hit your flushed face, the bag of custard shokupans in your hands slowly getting less and less warm.

It was a good thing that yours and your friends' favorite bakery was only a few steps away from Jujutsu High. You wouldn't have to walk a long distance to pick up the pastries that you insisted to pick up for the seven of you.

"(name)!" Nobara called out by the steps of the school where she and the rest of your friends were sitting, waiting for you to return.

"Thanks for getting the shokupans for us." Maki said in her usual cross expression. You didn't take it personally; you knew she was like this to everyone (and you also knew that deep down was a much softer Maki)

"Welcome," You said, smiling, your eyes crinkling at the edges above your collar.

Your friends stood up, rushing to get one each from the bag and you noticed that two remained, wondering who it belonged to.

"Oh," Yuji hummed, biting into his shokupan and looking at the last one in the plastic. "That's Inumaki's. For some reason, he's in a quiet mood. Won't really talk to anyone. Maybe you'd have a little more luck, (name)." The pink-haired boy nodded at Inumaki Toge, who had his chin in his hands, staring off into space with half-lidded eyes and slightly furrowed brows.

You walked over to your friend, gently waving a hand over his eyes. "Inumaki?"

He blinked and looked up at you, tilting his head in confusion. "Kelp?"

"Uhm," you held up the two pastries in your gloved hands. "Here. Do you want the chocolate custard or the strawberry custard?"

You sigh. Good times.

He pointed at the strawberry shokupan, mumbling thanks ("pickled plums") and blushing when your hands touched his. You sat down beside him, digging a small crevice in the snow with the tip of your boot and nibbling on the soft bread. It was good, and you were glad you got the chocolate one. It reminded you of the times when your grandmother would bake her special homemade shokupan, still warm from the oven, and you'd sit on her kitchen stool, the warm summer breeze blowing from the open windows.

You realized that you'd zoned out when you jumped at Inumaki's piercing lavender irises gazing at you in curiosity. Smiling awkwardly, you shrugged, tucking hair behind your ear. "Just thinking." You said lightly.

Inumaki nodded, more to himself than to you. Seemingly lost in thought once more, you watched as he took a bite of his bread.

His eyes have always been so pretty, you distractedly thought, watching a snowflake fall gently on your shokupan.

What would Inumaki and Yuji like? you asked yourself, thumbing through mangas in your local bookstore. You squinted, tilting your head to try to read the title on the side of the book. Kaiju 13. You smiled, knowing that Yuji had been too broke to buy this volume since it'd came out. You pulled it out, walking over to the cashier to pay.

Walking out of the store with plastic on your hand, you wondered what to get Inumaki. He was difficult to gift since he's unable to talk, so you've only ever seen him say the necessary things through his notes app. The two of you weren't close anyway, although you'd definitely like to be.

You racked your brains, thinking of what Inumaki could possibly like for Christmas.

Okay, so maybe you had a small crush on Inumaki. So what? You never do anything about your crushes anyway. Probably explains why I'm so single. You laugh to yourself internally. Unless loving books so much counts as a relationship, my love life is non-existent

A mug?

No, that's too boring

A sweater?

He always only wears one sweater anyway, so I don't think he'd wear the one you would give him

Flowers?

Flowers at Christmas? Really, (name)?

You exhaled in exasperation, rubbing your face with your hand hopelessly. You decide to walk around window shopping instead and hopefully find something.

After an hour of walking, shivering and trying to keep snow out of your hair in vain, you spot a clothing shop. With an exhale, you trudge inside. Perhaps you'd get more luck in here.

It took you a while before you chose a black sweater with a violet collar, which you thought would bring out the lavender in his eyes. You hoped it wasn't too much or too little for him.

At least you'd finally completed your Christmas shopping.

The blinding blue and purple lights flashed your eyes.

You tilted your head back as you took another gulp of punch, taking care not to let the dark red liquid drip onto your dress. You lay the glass back down on the clothed table, making your way to a seat in the corner of the hall.

The Christmas Party. The one the whole school had been hyped up about for days, chatting and gossiping about who was going to go with who, and who was going to where what. Heck, even the teachers were excited about it; you could see them chatting enthusiastically by teachers' table.

Everyone was having a lot of fun. The dj blasted electronic music, the beats thumping with your heart, and all around you, students danced without shame, letting it all out at the biggest party of the year.

And you?

You were lonely.

Yes, you had friends. Yes, you knew a lot of people here. And yes, your friends had already tried to invite you over to enjoy with them. But... it didn't feel the same. Nobara had invited you a while ago, claiming that it would be fun! and all that, but then you felt extremely left out, not knowing how to connect with the friends Nobara had. Not wanting to burden her with having to tag you around, you quietly excused yourself, heading to the punch table to avoid embarrassment. And now here you were, watching the dance floor with a half-hearted smile.

Suddenly, as the electronic music came to an end, a slower, song started playing on the speakers.

I don't want a friend...

Slow Dancing In The Dark by Joji started to play. Students from all over began segregating into two, couples finding their way onto the dance floor, now coated in a dark navy light. You watched boys putting their hands on girls' waists, arms encircled around necks, and you were almost happy for them. Almost.

You looked around the room, half hoping to find somebody that would maybe spot you and possibly ask you to dance? You found nobody as for the moment, but you waited anyway, sitting primly by the side and watching the couples smile at each other shyly and wishing you were doing the same

I want my life in two

You sighed, chin in your hands as you smiled softly, seeing Nobara dancing with Yuji.

Waiting to get there

It was almost unbearable, being on the side and surrounded by happy couples. Unbearable, actually, to the point that you stood up and quietly left the hall.

Waiting for you

The music could still be heard from the courtyard albeit slightly muffled. You sat down by your favorite spot in the garden, surrounded by tulips that the gardening students had planted for a project.

When I'm around slow dancing in the dark

Sitting with your elbows in your knees and your chin in your palms, you swayed gently to the music, watching water cascade down the water fountain.

Don't follow me, you'll end up in my arms

You closed your eyes, trying to hold back the tear fighting to be let out

You done made up your mind, I don't need no more signs

It was almost pathetic, you knew, if you would see yourself in another perspective. A girl, tidied up and primmed well in a dress she had spent hours searching for, sitting alone in the garden, holding back tears with her head on her knees.

Can you, can you...

Maybe love isn't for me

Give me reasons we should be complete?

You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. Lifting your head and hurriedly wiping your face, you look at the person beside you, only to be met by lavender.

"Inumaki?" You ask, gazing at him with a small frown on your face. "Why are you here?"

He shrugged, blinking and brushing a snowflake from your sleeve gently. "Mustard leaf?"

You smiled at him gratefully. "I'm okay, but... weren't you dancing with somebody?"

You should be with him, I can't compete

The blonde shook his head, his gaze falling slightly. When you tilted your head in confusion, he slid out his phone from his pocket, quickly typing something down on the notes app.

I was looking for you

You glanced up at him in surprise, a light shade of red adorning his and your faces.

"Me?" You wondered, bewildered.

"Salmon," Inumaki mumbled shyly.

The smile on your face grew softer. "Thank you, Inumaki, but really, I'm alright," you affirmed.

Inumaki nodded again, averting his gaze to look at the ground. You noticed that his thumbs were twiddling, almost as if he had something to say, but he didn't know how.

You broke the silence, taking out the sweater from your bag and handing it to the boy. "Oh, here, this is for you. Merry Christmas!" You greeted, forcing a smile onto your face.

He hesitantly took it from your hands, eyes wide, feeling the fabric with the tip of this thumb and tracing the collar with his index.

You nervously watched him, hoping, hoping that you got the right thing. "Sorry if it's not much," you quickly added. "I was running out of time and uhm, I didn't know what to get you."

To your surprise, Inumaki pulled you into a hug. His arms wrapped around your torso almost naturally, and you freeze for a moment, your hands hovering on air, before you relax into him, laying your chin on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his neck, your eyes fluttering close. It was quiet all around you, save for the muffled music coming from the hall. It was almost, dare you say, magical in a way.

You never wanted to let go.

Unfortunately, he did, awkwardly pulling apart from you. You knew your face was a beet red, and you tucked your curtain bangs behind your ear again, a small habit you had. To break the awkwardness, Inumaki showed you his phone screen again, and you squinted at the words.

I'm sorry I wasn't able to get you anything

Your eyes widen. "No it's okay! I don't need anything, really, I'm fine."

You looked like you needed somebody to be with you.

"Well, you're here now so..." You mumbled, averting his gaze once again. Yet another awkward silence falls over the two of you, and you scold yourself internally for ruining the moment, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress nervously.

Fabric ruffles as Inumaki suddenly stands up beside you. You glanced up at him, confusion etched in your expression upon seeing his outstretched hand.

Inumaki showed you his phone screen as an answer, and you read it, a blush adorning your features once again.

Since I didn't get you anything, would you like to dance with me as a compensation?

You nodded shyly, taking his hand and standing up with him. Inumaki furrowed his brows a little, reluctantly putting one hand on your waist. He tilted his head as if to ask, "is this okay?" and you nodded again, intertwining your fingers with his other hand.

I don't wanna go home...

Were you dreaming? You couldn't tell, couldn't pinch yourself to check lest you let go of Inumaki. You felt as if you were floating as the two of you swayed to the music, the soft glow of the moonlight adorning Inumaki's gentle features, snow falling softly all around the two of you.

Can it be one night?

Your face was so close to Inumaki's face, so close that you were an inch away, that you could see every silver fleck in his purple eyes, every snowflake caught in his eyelashes.

Can you, can you...

"Inumaki..." you mumbled, and he hummed in acknowledgement, looking at you with a dreamy, focused expression you've never seen on him before.

Give me reasons we should be complete?

You didn't know what to say. All you knew is that you never wanted this to end. But it did, and so suddenly. Inumaki stopped moving and stepped closer, pulling down his collar. Your breath hitched in your throat.

You should be with him, I can't compete

"Mustard leaf?" He whispered, his mouth an inch away from you.

You looked at me like I was someone else, oh, well

You swallowed, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Can't you see?

Yours and his lips met in the middle, moulding together in a perfect kiss, a kiss of unsaid words, of longing glances, and of sweet beginnings.

in the dark

I don't wanna slow dance...

Maybe this Christmas wasn't so bad, after all.

bonus:

from that day onwards, Inumaki only ever wore the sweater you gave him

[falsedivide]

hii can you make gradient line dividers using dark colours combined with white (BTW YOUR DIVIDERS ARE SO CUTEE)

hex code : : #22151F

hex code : : #422d20

hex code : : #380F38

hex code : : #43473E

hex code : : #02074A

hex code : : #5C0000

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ : : credit not needed <3

[falsedivide]

Yuji Itadori wants to talk to you so he asks Nobara for help

"Yuji, just go talk to her."

"No, no, no, no I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm just gonna embarrass myself."

16 year old Yuji Itadori buried his face in his hands and groaned. "I'm never gonna get to talk to her."

Nobara sighed, rolling her eyes. "You'll never know if you'll embarrass yourself or not if you don't actually just go and talk to her."

"But I won't ever embarrass myself if I don't talk to her either!" Yuji argued, flailing his hands dramatically.

"Then you'll never get to talk to her," Megumi deadpanned.

"Arghhhhhhh." Yuji flopped back onto his seat in exasperation. With a slight pout on his lips, he played with his food with his chopsticks, distractedly segregating the rice from the meat.

Suddenly, Yuji's expression brightened, his posture straightening. "Nobara! You're friends with her, right?"

"Yeah and...?" Nobara said, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"Can't you just call for her to come over?" Yuji said, clasping his hands together and widening his eyes at the brown-haired girl.

Nobara narrowed her eyes at him. "You know what, fine, just to get you to stop moping around."

Yuji grinned, pumping his fist. "You're the best, Kugisaki."

"Yeah, yeah." Nobara rolled her eyes. She raised a hand and attached it to the side of her mouth, calling you from across the room.

You raised your eyebrows, excusing yourself from your friends to quickly walk over to Nobara, who was gesturing for you to go there.

"Hey, what's up, guys?" You casually smiled, leaning over the empty chair beside Nobara.

Nobara smiled at you, "Hey (name)!", and Megumi muttered a quiet hello of acknowledgement, continuing to eat his lunch.

"So what brings me here?" You asked them playfully.

"Well," Nobara rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips. "My friend here wants to ask you out." She nodded towards Yuji.

Yuji watched as you turned towards him curiously, noticing that he was slowly turning pinker than his hair. He frowned at Nobara in irritation. That was not what I meant for you to do!

"Oh really?" You asked Yuji, raising your eyebrow with a smirk on the side of your lips. "And what's your name?"

Yuji swallowed, the blush on his cheeks growing more and more prominent. "Hi, uh, I'm Yuji. Yuji Itadori."

"(full name)," you say in response, reaching over to shake his hand. You cocked your head. "What Nobara said, did she mean that?"

"Uh-," Yuji chuckled nervously. "Well, I mean probably, she did, well I mean yeah she did because I kind of told her to, but not really since- uhm what I meant is, yeah she... she did."

You laughed lightly at Yuji's stuttering, a light pink dusting your cheeks.

"Well alright, you can take me out, Yuji Itadori." You smiled seeing the wide eyes and open mouth of the pink-haired boy. "I'll catch you later, maybe after third period? Then we could talk details."

"Yeah!" Yuji nodded enthusiastically. "That would be great!"

"Well, see you around Yuji." You said with a final, charming smile aimed at him.

Once you had walked back to your table, Yuji slumped back on his seat with a loud exhale.

"That went well," Megumi dryly said, sarcasm laced in his words. Nobara rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that day, but fondly this time

"Yeah..." Yuji said dreamily, watching you laugh with your friends from across the room. "It definitely did."

[falsedivide]

Todo pretends to be dating you so Megumi proves him wrong

"Oh yeah, I know (name) very well."

At the sound of your name, Megumi raised an eyebrow, passing Todo who was casually talking about you with a slight smirk on his face. He slowed down, leaning on his locker and pretending to look for a book in his backpack while keeping an ear out.

"Really?" One of the football players on Megumi's team leaned forward eagerly. "Are you guys dating?"

Aoi Todo sniggered, putting a finger on his chin and pretending to mull over his answer. "I mean..." He kissed his teeth contemplatively. "Sort of? She definitely likes me that's for sure, but I'm considering whether or not to hook up with her."

"Why not?" another one of the players asked.

"Well," Todo shrugged humbly. "It's not like I can't handle a one-night stand but... I'll let her do the chasing. It's more fun that way."

Megumi smirked quietly to himself, laying his cleats on the floor of his locker. He then locked it and turned around, only to be faced with the team, all of them looking at him with curiosity in their expressions. Most especially Todo, who cocks his head at Megumi.

"You've been awfully quiet, Fushiguro." He says. "Mind sharing your thoughts?"

Megumi sighed. For some reason, Todo always seemed to target him for whatever reason there may be. The strange competitiveness he always reserved for him was unprovoked and unusually unexpected, but over time Megumi learned to get used to it. It never really bothered him.

This time was no different. The fushiguro raised his eyebrow at the football player in front of him. "What do you want, man?"

"What'chu think of (name)?" He grinned toothily, brushing non-existent dust from his shoulder. "Since your taste in women is so boring, I want to at least know your thoughts on her."

Megumi rolled his eyes. "I don't need to answer to you, Todo."

The rest of the football team exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the tense air surrounding the two men.

A moment passed, Todo and Megumi staring at each other with frowns on their faces until the sound of a closing door broke the silence.

"Megumi!" your light voice called out. The entire team immediately looked towards the direction of the sound, surprise etched into their features upon seeing you running towards the spiky-haired boy.

You threw yourself at Megumi, tackling him into a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck naturally, as if you've done this a thousand times. Megumi hugs you back, his hands around your waist, and he spins you around swiftly to plant a sweet kiss on your lips in front of everyone else.

You tug him away from the boys' locker room with a bright, oblivious smile on your face, your hand intertwined around his. You barely even noticed Todo. As the two of you turn to leave, Megumi shoots him a small smirk over his shoulder, reveling in the bewilderment of the football team and the burning shame in Todo's furious expression.

That'll teach him not to mess with my girl.

[falsedivide]

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[falsedivide]

George tries to make you jealous and it works

· · ──drabble── · ·

· · ──masterlist── · ·

"Mate," George whispered loudly in Fred's ear.

"What?" Fred replied, stuffing a spoon of mashed potatoes in his mouth. "Ugh, I'm starved."

"Mate, mate." George continued to say. "Who is that?"

Fred ignored his twin, instead helping himself to another round of mashed potatoes. George huffed at him, rolling his eyes, and turned away to stare at the Great Hall's doors. He bit his lip.

"Damn."

"Damn what?" You asked him from his other side, peering up at his tall posture. When George didn't answer you nudged him on his arm lightly. "George?"

George didn't reply, instead whistling lowly under his breath. You turned your head towards the same area George was staring at and found yourself frowning in confusion.

"Katy? What about her?"

"I don't know, (name), but dang... she's hot," George muttered, his eyes glued to where the chaser was chatting with Angelina.

You bit your lip slightly, a small pang of jealousy hitting your chest. Looking down at your food, you pushed your plate away, your appetite suddenly gone.

"You fonna eath thaf?" Fred asked you from across the table, his mouth full of mashed potatoes and gravy.

"Have at it. I'm full," you state. "I'm going to bed. Night Fred,"

Fred murmured back a goodnight, already digging into your leftovers.

"Hey- why so early?" George asked you, finally breaking his gaze away from Katy.

"Just tired," you shrugged, forcing a smile.

"Nah" Fred suddenly said, coughing loudly and hitting his chest to get rid of the food stuck in his throat. "You're just jealous, (name)." He wheezed out.

You glared at him indignantly. "I am not!"

After a pause you mutter, "but even if I am, it's valid since boyfriends are not supposed to admire other girls from a distance. Especially when their girl is right beside them."

You pointedly glanced at George who grinned cheekily.

"I never specified who I was staring at, love." He said, looking you up and down. George shoots a wink at you, and you find yourself blushing.

"You absolute moron," you mumble, taking your seat again and punching him on the shoulder.

George chuckled, putting his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. "My eyes are for you and you only."

Fred choked, gagging, "Yuck, PDA!"

[falsedivide]

Snowy Diamond Flakes

Hex code: #F6F6F7

Hex code: #D9D8DF

Hex code: #B0C2D7

Hex code: #B2A7BB

Hex code: #E4C2C7

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[falsedivide]

— thinking about…

Boyfriend!Megumi who secretly lives for seeing you in his hoodies. He’ll grumble about you stealing them, saying “Don’t you have your own clothes?” but then hides his face when you twirl around in it. He’s this close to fainting every time you pull the sleeves over your hands.

who gets so shy when you compliment him that he mumbles, “You’re annoying,” but he’s beet red and looking at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

who doesn’t know how to text romantically, so he’ll send random pictures of the most niche stuff.

Boyfriend!Yuji who texts you “happy birthday” so fast it’s sent at 12:01 AM because he’s afraid he’ll forget later.

who shares all his snacks with you but cries a little inside when you eat the last chip. He’d never admit it, though, because “Your happiness matters more than chips.”

who is always down for a spontaneous adventure—whether it’s stargazing or hunting for the best ramen spot at midnight. “It’s not bad, right? Okay, maybe the sketchy alley was a bad idea…”

Boyfriend!Toge who listens to you ramble about your day with the softest smile, but halfway through, his head falls onto your shoulder, and he’s fast asleep. When you poke him awake, he signs “Keep going, I’m awake now.” He’s lying.

who loves stealing your food, but when you try to take his, he’ll sign “Hands off” dramatically while guarding it like a dragon.

who sends you texts that are just emojis and expects you to decipher the whole conversation. (Spoiler: it’s always him saying he misses you.)

Boyfriend!Choso who stares at you lovingly while you’re talking, completely zoning out because he’s too busy thinking, “How did I get so lucky?”

who tries so hard to understand memes because you keep sending them, and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. (He Googles half of them.)

who tucks you into bed like you’re royalty and refuses to let you get up without a kiss. “No kiss, no freedom.”

Boyfriend!Yuta who texts you good morning, goodnight, and random updates like, “Just saw a cool bird. Thought of you.”

who gets so flustered when you hold his hand that he forgets how to walk straight. “Wait, left foot first, right?”

who offers you his scarf in cold weather, even if it means he’s freezing. You have to force it back on him, but he’s just happy you cared.

[falsedivide]

toge inumaki // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

salmon!

dog-gone it.

intimacy is subjective

the sky, the sun, getting beat up by inumaki

bitter eclipse

puppy love

tongue-tied

be not afraid of my body

sweet dreams and other cursed demands

i leave you

come

our hands

the sun will rise again

1999

transatlanticism

my home is where your heart is

i know when you're around ('cause i know the sound of your heart)

let's talk.

nightmares

paper wings

pull me close

this love

secret admirer

favorite

muse

a coffeeshop phone call

crush

fillings for you

[falsedivide]

Nougat and Rosemary

Oneshot

George Weasley x reader

Synopsis: When a sudden game of spin-the-bottle throws you and George into an unexpected situation, you begin to see him less as an annoyance and more as a... potential lover?

Word count: 3.4k

TWs: none

requested by @runawayprincesslily

masterlist

   "Hi."

   "George Weasley."

   "Did'ja miss me, sweetheart?"

   "No."

   You roll your eyes in annoyance. "And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me 'sweetheart.'?"

   This was the fifth time this week that George Weasley had pestered you. And it's only Tuesday!

   "But you love it." George winks, licking his bottom lip and grinning.

   "I, in fact, do not." You scoop up all your books with your arms, grunting as the top one almost falls off-balance to which you level a hand over to keep from dropping to the ground. George offers a hand for help, and you huff at him to show that you don't need any, the stack wobbling dangerously.

   "Why are you taking so many classes anyway?" He asks you curiously, tilting his head to one side, his torso splayed over the desk, his arms hugging the table as he watches you take shaky steps towards the door.

   "Education is a blessing," you state matter-of-factly. "And I intend to make the most out of it."

   See, before you'd been invited to Hogwarts, your family had been very much low on money, meaning you were not given an education. The only reason you knew how to read and write before going to Hogwarts was because your mother had taught it to you in between her shifts at the farm.

   "While many students." You look at George pointedly out of the corner of your eye. "may take being here for granted, I do not."

   The ginger raises his hands lazily. "Alright alright I got it, ma'am. Thank you very much for that bit of enlightenment." George rolls that last word in his mouth mockingly.

   "You're welcome."

   "Now can I get a kiss on the cheek?" George asks mischievously, which you completely ignore and walk out the door.

──────── ⚯ ͛

   "C'mon, (name) join us!" Your friends pull you along to the circle in the center of the room. You try to refuse them, claiming that you still had a DADA essay due—Snape would cut off your ears if you didn't complete it by tonight—but in the end you agreed anyway, thinking that perhaps a night off wouldn't be so bad.

   You were mistaken.

   Midway of the spin the bottle game, a group of tall Gryffindor stumble into the common room, plopping down into gaps of the circle. And to your displeasure, George Weasley worms himself between you and the rest of your friends, smiling cheekily and nudging you.

   "Hi sweetheart," he says, his smirk wide on his freckled face.

   "You again." You sigh, putting your chin in your hand, and resting your elbow on your legs.

   "Always gonna be me," George sings out to which you roll your eyes at.

   As the ginger continues to pester you, you watch the game quietly. A brown-haired boy from across the room reaches over and pinches the bottle with two fingers and spins it.

   I wonder who it'd land on this time.

   The green glass glints in the light, and you stare at it mesmerized, completely missing the fact that it had landed on you. Someone snaps their fingers and you blink, gaining consciousness again. A nervous frown settles on your face.

   I did not sign up for this.

   From beside you, George stiffens, sucking in a quiet breath. The two of you watch quietly as your friend reaches over and spins the bottle a second time...

   ...and it lands on the boy beside you.

   You freeze, your eyes flitting towards George. The boy looks back at you, a slightly anxious expression on his face, a small smile sitting on his lips.

   "We don't have to if you don't want to, (name)," he offered softly.

   The rest of the people in the circle groan in disappointment. You hear a boy mutter "killjoys." under his breath. Your pride swells, and the next thing that comes out of your mouth surprises even you.

   "No. Let's give the people what they want."

   As the rest of the room look at the two of you—and your brain screams at you "What are you doing!?"—you lift your chin in pure stubbornness and level your eyes with George.

   Meanwhile the redhead, his cheeks dusted with a slight pink, nods slowly and grins at you nervously. "Are you sure you're okay with it?" He mumbles under his breath.

   "I'm sure." You say, already half-regretting your decision.

   George searches your face one last in hesitation before leaning forwards and taking your chin between his index and his thumb. You mirror his actions, tilting your head with his, closing your eyes in heart-racing anticipation.

   The first thing you notice when your mouths connect is how soft his lips are. The second, the taste of him: sweet like a caramel nougat, but at the same time herbaceous like a rosemary.

   You barely hear the cheers that erupt around the room at all, even after George pulled away. The two of you meet eyes and your breath catches in your throat. Did I really just do that?

   An awkward pause, then you force a smile at the redhead, a prominent blush on your cheeks. He smiles back gently, and you flush under his gaze, turning away and leaning forward to spin the bottle once again.

   Thankfully, it no longer landed on you nor George for the rest of the night, although every time someone leaned over to kiss another person, you couldn't rid your mind of you and the ginger. Even when you cheered for your best friend when she got her crush, you couldn't get the kiss out of your head. It didn't slip by your thoughts either on how his thigh was pressing onto yours for the entire three hours that you stayed in the common room... and how you didn't pull away.

   Crawling into your sheets that night, you swear you still tasted caramel and rosemary.

──────── ⚯ ͛

   The next morning, you thought it all a dream.

   "It must've been a dream," you muttered. "George Weasley did not kiss me, and I did not like it. At all. No, no, no, it was a dream that was just too realistic."

   Your hopes were quickly dashed, however, when you walked into the Great Hall and your friend Parvati quickly grabbed onto your arm and pulled you to a corner.

   "Did you actually do that?" She whispered, brown eyes wide with curiosity.

   "Do... what?"

   "The kiss! With George!" She said, as if it were obvious.

   Your heart dropped to your stomach. So it did happen, you thought in distress.

   You swallowed hard. "Yeah... I did do that."

   "Oh my gosh." Parvati squealed, a hand on her grinning mouth. "I can't believe it, (name) I thought you didn't like him!"

   "I don't!" You protest, shaking your head. "It was all part of the game. I only did it because I didn't wanna look like a wuss!"

   Yet the more you denied it, the more you thought back on that moment, on that kiss. You remembered how soft George's lips were, on how your mouths seemed to perfectly connect, on how his tongue momentarily flicked on your lower lip...

   "Yes, I did that the other night." You said with a sigh, ridding your mind of those traitorous thoughts. "And no, I do not like George Weasley. Can I please eat breakfast now?"

   "Fine." Parvati said, a mischievous smile on her face. She loops her elbow around yours and skips to the Gryffindor table. "But I still don't believe you in the latter."

   She walks back to her seat beside Seamus who was stuffing his face with potatoes, leaving your elbow free. You scanned the table for any seats left and winced when you noticed that the only one left was in front of none other than George Weasley.

   With a sigh and a very empty stomach, you gently padded over to the seat and lowered yourself onto it, filling your bowl with porridge in silence, avoiding the gaze of the ginger in front of you.

   "Morning, (name)." George says softly.

   You suck in a breath quietly, daring to look up, meeting his eyes. He stares back at you with a small smile on his freckled face.

   Why is he looking at me like that?

   "Good morning," you curtly reply, focusing back on your food.

   Why is this so difficult? It's never been so difficult to talk to George before.

   Once you finish your bowl, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, rushing to stand to get to your next class early.

   "(Name)," George suddenly calls out, looking up at your standing figure. You glance at him in surprise.

   "Yes?"

   "You have Transfiguration next, right?"

   "Yes... I do." You carefully answer, a small frown settling on you. Why was he asking you this?

   "Oh, what a coincidence; I do too." A slightly nervous smile grows on his face, and he hesitates before saying, "May I walk you there?"

    Warmth flooded your face, adorning your cheeks with a light shade of red—and it certainly didn't help when Parvati shot you a wink from across the table. You hesitate, but for some reason, a small tug on your heart has you saying, "Yeah sure. You can... walk me to class."

──────── ⚯ ͛

   Since you and George arrived at McGonagall's classroom at the same time, it only made sense to him to sit beside you. So he did, pulling the seat back for you to sit down, which you accept with a confused frown.

   Something's changed. You thought to yourself, as you glanced down on George's fingers brushing yours on your desks. He's softer to me now, less cheeky, more... gentle.

   You couldn't concentrate on what McGonagall's saying whenever George would adjust his seating position, his thighs grazing yours on multiple occasions. You were hyper-aware of how he'd sometimes scribble something on the edge of his notebook, a low and thoughtful hum escaping his throat, his slender fingers smoothening the feather in his pen.

   When the class was finally over, you got up as fast as you could and ran to your dorm.

──────── ⚯ ͛

   The following days were just as strange as the previous. You couldn't get the ginger out of your mind.

   You didn't get what changed after the kiss. You had never liked George Weasley! Not ever, not even when he relentlessly flirted with you.

   Some part of you suspected that maybe you had always liked George, but you knew he flirted with everyone, so you didn't lead yourself on further. Yet, the more you thought of it, ever since the kiss, you never caught him flirting with anybody else but you.

   However, he didn't even seem to flirt with you much anymore either. Gone were his sugary nicknames for you, replaced with stolen glances, half-smiles, and the occasional brush of fingers.

   It confused you; and even more so when you began to act differently around him. You'd catch yourself looking for him in a crowd of people, notice every shared class the two of you had, and get a slight pang on your chest every time you would see him interact with another girl.

   I can't be falling in love with him, you keep telling yourself every day, every morning, and every night. Yet, the more you denied it, the more it haunted you.

   After battling your conflicting emotions for a fortnight, you decided to just avoid him.

   It's simple, really, you thought to yourself one night. Why didn't I think of it earlier? The less I see him, the less I think about him.

   And you indeed did that.

   Every time you would turn to see George in the hallway, you would quickly walk off, finding an excuse whenever your friends would ask you why. All the shared classes the two of you had, you started attending later so as not to chance upon sitting beside him. And you ate as early or as late as you could, sometimes even skipping meals just for the purpose of not seeing that familiar head of mussed red hair.

   It was working for you, albeit slowly.

   But it was killing George.

──────── ⚯ ͛

   George Weasley frowned slightly as he watched you scribble on your notebook from across the room, his chin on his palm, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.

   Why is she avoiding me?

   Lately, George had been hurting. Badly. Every time he would try to talk to you, you would skirt him, avoid him, run away, or always have something to do. Either you were suddenly very busy—which he doubted since your schedule definitely didn't change—or you were doing it on purpose.

   Maybe I did something?

   Shaking his head slightly, George focused on a small dot in his notebook where he had subconsciously been pressing his pen on. He winced at the tear in the parchment, rubbing it contemplatively with his thumb.

   He pretended not to notice as Fred gave him a side-eye. Where had his fun-loving brother gone? Why had he been replaced by a moping redhead with broken hearts in his eyes?

   George glanced up again, his eyes fixating on the girl from across the room. Why have I never noticed how pretty she is? How perfectly her hair falls and how it enhances her features even more.

   Fred followed his brother's eyes and rolled his eyes. So that's why, he thought. Of course my brother is lovestruck.

   After class had ended, during their lunch break, Fred decides to confront George about you.

   "Georgie, you can't keep doing this." Fred says, diving straight into it.

   "Keep doing what?" George asks him, frowning in confusion.

   "You and (name). This... this charade you two have going on: it needs to end." Fred firmly says.

   "What charade?" George scoffs. "She won't even talk to me!"

   "Then you gotta go talk to her."

   "And why should I?" George stubbornly says. "It's not as if it could change anything."

   "It may not change anything." Fred says solemnly. "But if you don't do anything, you might lose her."

──────── ⚯ ͛

   George knew his brother was right.

   That night, he tossed and turned repeatedly in bed, his conversation with Fred echoing over and over in his mind.

   "Then you gotta go talk to her."

   But how do I? George asked himself, his eyes shutting tightly in frustration. What am I supposed to say to her?

   After hours of tossing and turning, his thoughts racing, George gave up on trying to fall asleep. He got up from bed and decided to sneak to the library where he's sure to find peace (and hopefully a book containing how to sort out the human thoughts and emotions)

   It wasn't hard to sneak out. Being the devious prankster he is, he knew every route and secret paths, how to avoid Peeves, Filch, and Mrs. Norris. He was distracted tonight, however, which is why he almost tripped over a trap Peeves had put in the middle of the hallway.

   Grumbling under his breath, his heart pounding, he opened the library door.

   And there you were, across the room, a lamp illuminating you curled up in a chair with small novel in your hands.

   You jumped and glanced up in alarm, then relaxed in slight relief when you saw that it was just George.

   Once he closed the door, he walked over to you, heart pounding in his chest. "What are you doing here?"

   You raised an eyebrow at him. "I should be asking you the same question." You blew out a small breath in a sigh, closing your book and putting it aside. You nodded to the seat across you, which George took gratefully.

   "I couldn't sleep," he admits. "I was thinking too much."

   You stared at him for a second, your eyes narrow, then shrugged lightly. "Me neither."

   An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. You debate on whether or not to break the silence, but before you could, he does.

   "Hey (name)," he says softly. You hum in acknowledgement.

   "Is..." he hesitates. "Is it weird that I'm starting to feel different about you?"

   The words tumble out of his mouth, and his expression seems as if he'd surprised not just you, but himself as well.

   "Different how?" You carefully ask him.

   "Different in a way that whenever I look at you, I wanna kiss you again."

   Your breath hitches in your throat, and you bite your lip. How did he know I'd been feeling the same way?

   "So why don't you?"

   The same expression that was on his face a few moments ago was now on yours. You wondered what in the world possessed you to say that. At the same time, however, you were telling the truth.

   George runs a hand through his hair and swallows, his throat bobbing. "Is this why you've been avoiding me?"

   You didn't reply.

   "Well I guess I'll find out."

   With that George leans forward slowly, tentatively, waiting for you in a silent question of consent.

   And you answer him with a tug of his pyjama collar, your lips meeting in the middle above the center of the library table.

   The kiss wasn't rough or desperate. It was gentle and explorative; both of you were still reluctant to be too bold and you left it at that—innocent and sweet.

   You knew that this was the start of something new... something nice. It was new beginnings, sweet and herbaceous, nougat and rosemary.

──────── ⚯ ͛

a/n: sorry this took so long, love! but here it is and I hope you like it :D

[falsedivide]

Quick tips for writing arguments

⋆˙⟡ the “are we actually doing this?” pause where both of them realize, mid-sentence, that this is about to get ugly

⋆˙⟡ cutting each other off, not because they’re rude, but because they’re terrified of what the other will say next

⋆˙⟡ one character’s voice going way quieter instead of louder...scary ughh.

⋆˙⟡ pacing. or standing so still it’s unnatural

⋆˙⟡ someone saying the other’s name like it’s a warning shot

⋆˙⟡ hands clenching into fists… or clenching nothing because they don’t know where to put all that fury

⋆˙⟡ the “oh crap I went too far” moment after blurting something that can’t be unsaid

⋆˙⟡ insults that only hurt because they’re true

⋆˙⟡ a laugh that’s definitely not funny, the kind that says I can’t believe you just said that

⋆˙⟡ them talking over each other, dialogue tripping and tumbling until one of them snaps STOP

⋆˙⟡ the awful, ringing silence after it’s over, where they’re both just breathing hard and trying not to look at each other

⋆˙⟡ the shaky “we’re fine” lie afterward that fools absolutely no one

[falsedivide]

ᯓ General Fic Recommendations Page

───〃★ I figured that since I read a lot on AO3, Tumblr, and Wattpad I'd compile all my favorites here for you all to enjoy too! There are series, oneshots, and entire books to read from all three apps ᯓ✦

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

⊱⋆this page is constantly being updated⋆⊰

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Harry Potter

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Alice in Borderland

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Jujutsu Kaisen (coming soon!) ⟡.•

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┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★｡

┊ ˚★

★⋆

[falsedivide]

Alice In Borderland Fic Recs

✦. ── a compilation of all best fics I have found and collected in the aib fandom ── .✦

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

⋆͙͘͡★ legend:

A ᯓ AO3 ☄

T ᯓ Tumblr ☄

W ᯓ Wattpad ☄

(•) ᯓ fluff ☄

(*) ᯓ angst ☄

(°) ᯓ smut ☄

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ Shuntarō Chishiya ˎˊ˗

T - red strings tie me down •*

T - drabble *

T - ephemeral hearts •*

T - breath of --

life •*

evil •*

love •*

T - unwoven hearts --

one

T - lillies •

T - summer nights of

fireworks and fireflies •

T - a series of firsts •°

T - caught in the fall --

one •*

two •*

T - one day or day one? •*

T - quiet •

T - i love you, i'm sorry *

T - off-camera

T - forgotten memories •*

T - sienna •*

T - social anxiety •

T - reminiscence •*

W - a simple sound •*

W - the flowers bloom •*

W - hearts formed by

solicitude and desolation •*

W - intertwined •*

W - friends with benefits •

W - oneshots •*

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ Suguru Niragi ˎˊ˗

A - lost cause •*

A - daddy's girl wins again •

T - thank you •

T - three times a charm •°

T - night in the library --

prologue •

shadows of the past *

too good to be true *

intentions *

the truth untold *

the game *

pain *

secrets *

burn *

faltering trust *

the breaking point *

the game *

T - let me take care of you •

T - a life worth living *

T - also in that universe •°

T - body electric *

T - last betrayal •*

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ Kōdai Tatta ˎˊ˗

T - loser's luck •*°

T - headcannons (romantic) •

T - headcannons (platonic) •

T - my love is mine, all mine ---

one

two

T - impulses (by yours truly) •

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

[falsedivide]

strawberry crepes

chishiya shuntarou

red strings tie me down

chrysanthemum

purple lilacs

deception cuts through the wounds

winter dreams

drowning in the essence of you

the pact

[falsedivide]

I love love LOVE your fics smm they always make me feel SO much. I was wondering if you'd be willing to write a george x reader. Actually I have two ideas so wtvr you want

1. George asks reader to dance during yule ball on can't help falling in love by elvis presley. Write from readers perspective who thinks george is just doing this to be nice/ out of pity. She let's him. And also from george pov who build up alot of courage to ask the girl she's in love with (the reader) to dance on the song.

2. Where they both are in love with each other but haven't confessed. Their friends suspect and challenge them to kiss. The kiss feels more than platonic and forced (cause obviously). Then reader avoids him relentlessly while george grows desperate. He finally confronts her and teases her and then confesses.

hi! hi! unfortunately I'm witnessing a dry season in my writing hobby as for the moment, but trust, I'm working on it slowly but surely. you'll get a tag in your notifs once I finish ! </3

[falsedivide]

Lover Boy

. Summary: After years of stolen glances, unfortunate interruptions, and sneaking out of the palace, Telemachus finally musters the courage to confess to you, well… not without a little help, of course. . Pairing: Telemachus x gn! Reader . Warnings: None . Notes: This one had been rotting in the drafts for a while. You can all thank @selena-of-ithaca for inspiring me to finish it! I will probably be doing a second part of this closer to what the request originally was cause it left me thinking about some ideas I wanna explore Art taken from duvetbox's animatic of Legendary Stars devider made by @saradika-graphics, taken from this post

You can say what you will about love at first sight—that it's not real, that it's just an exaggeration poets use to get their point across. But for Telemachus, it was real. Way too real. He just didn't know it at the time.

The first time he saw you, he was just a boy, running from the suffocating walls of the palace. It had stopped feeling like a home—what it was supposed to be—and had become a den. He felt like a lone sheep trapped in a cave full of wolves, and there was no escape. He couldn't leave. He had duties, responsibilities. And most importantly, his mother needed him.

Ever since the suitors had stormed in, treating the palace and everyone inside it as if they were nothing, life had become unbearable. The halls were filled with laughter that wasn't joyful, voices that weren't kind. Every step he took had to be careful, every turn of a corner calculated, just to avoid crossing paths with them. It didn't matter that he was the prince, the heir to Ithaca's throne—his title held no weight with them.

He felt like he was drowning, even though he stood on solid ground.

So naturally, he went to the beach. Or at least, that's where he intended to go. Lost in his thoughts, his mind running rampant, he barely noticed where his feet were taking him. He was halfway down the docks when he collided with someone—hard. The impact sent both of you to the ground, and something clattered beside you.

"Are you alright?"

The voice reached him before he even opened his eyes. The blow had forced them shut, but when he finally blinked them open, the sight before him left him speechless.

At the time, he would've chalked it up to embarrassment. Maybe that was part of it. But looking back, he thought maybe—just maybe—he knew you were the one right then and there, even if he hadn't fully realized it yet.

"Uh... hello?" You waved a hand in front of his face. That snapped him out of his daze, but before he could speak, another voice cut through.

"Kid!"

Both of you turned in unison. A man stood at the edge of the docks—a gruff, towering figure with a bit of gray streaking through his hair. His arms, covered in calluses and old scars, looked like they belonged to someone who could crush a person with a single tap. But you knew better. You knew his heart was made of gold.

"What happened? Are you alright? I knew I shouldn't have let you hold the spears," the man grumbled, his deep voice thick with concern.

"Dad," you muttered, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your tone.

But he wasn't listening. He kept going, mumbling about how he should keep a better eye on you.

"Dad! I'm alright," you reassured him, then turned back to Telemachus—though at the time, you didn't know his name. "Are you?"

He nodded quickly, still a bit unsettled by the sheer presence of your father.

"See? Everything's fine." That seemed to calm the man, at least a little.

You rose from the ground, dusting yourself off before gathering the fallen spears. With one hand, you picked them up. With the other, you reached down and helped Telemachus to his feet.

Your father studied him with a keen eye. "What's your name, son?"

"Telemachus, sir." Anyone could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Your father's brows lifted slightly. "The prince? What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I just wanted to take a stroll along the beach." Telemachus gestured toward the shore—a more desolate place, one few people ever ventured to.

"Oh, well, that's always a delight to see," your father said with a knowing smile. "Why don't you take [Name] with you? They love going there."

"Dad!"

Heat rushed to your face. That was all you could muster in your embarrassment.

"What?" Your father shrugged. "You could use a break. You need friends your age, anyway." He muttered the last part, but it was loud enough for Telemachus to hear—making your face burn even more.

That day was the first of many.

Over the next ten years, you and Telemachus built something unshakable—a bond carefully woven over time. And in those years, Telemachus came to a realization.

He liked you.

Really liked you.

He had always been hesitant to use the word love. He had never really seen it with his own eyes—not the kind poets spoke of. He had never met his father, and his mother had spent most of his life waiting, praying for Odysseus to return. He supposed the strength she carried was love, in its own way. But he had never seen it in action.

And the years had only made it harder. The suitors had grown more desperate, more dangerous, stripping away every ounce of his attention and confidence.

But then—after twenty long, agonizing years—his father came home.

Everything changed.

In the first few weeks, Telemachus watched his parents reunite. He saw the way they cherished each other, how they barely left each other's side. He saw love in the way they looked at one another, in the way his father reached for his mother's hand without thinking, in the way she smiled as if she had been holding her breath for two decades and could finally exhale.

And that's when he knew.

That's what he wanted.

He wanted to hold your hand, wanted to make you smile—not that he didn't already manage to do that. He wanted to wake up by your side, to trace soft, chaste kisses along your face. He wanted to look into your eyes and, without a single word, know that you both felt the same, that you loved each other.

The only problem was... he didn't know how.

And, gods, he was scared.

──────💗──────

Odysseus made his rounds through town, as he had made a habit of doing ever since returning home. He liked watching the people go about their day, seeing the town buzz with life. He took in every sound, every movement, every face. After spending so many years without proper human interaction, he had learned to appreciate the small things.

That, of course, didn't mean he didn't make time for his family. If anything, he dreaded the moments he had to spend away from them to tend to his duties. That was why, when his son volunteered to accompany him to the docks, he was ecstatic. His mind raced with possible conversation topics, excited at the rare opportunity to bond with Telemachus outside the walls of the palace.

But as they walked, it became increasingly clear that the conversation was more one-sided than he would have liked. Telemachus seemed distracted, his gaze scanning the crowd as if searching for something. Or someone.

Normally, Odysseus might have felt a twinge of disappointment at his son's lack of attention. But then he spotted you, helping your father unload the fishing boat. And then he noticed his son—staring directly at you, his hands fidgeting at his sides before he wiped them on his tunic, as if trying to get rid of sudden clamminess.

Oh. That explained it.

Odysseus' observation skills might have been rusty, but he wasn't stupid.

"Do you want to go talk to them?"

Telemachus nearly jumped out of his skin, his head snapping toward his father. "I— I already do talk to them! We're friends."

Odysseus raised an eyebrow with skepticism. "Friends?"

"Yes!" Telemachus insisted, a little too quickly. His cheeks, however, betrayed him as they flushed red.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I introduced myself?"

Telemachus gave him an incredulous look. "You're the king. They already know who you are!"

"Yes, well, I never personally introduced myself," Odysseus replied smoothly. "And any friend of my son's is a friend of mine."

And with that, he began walking toward you without waiting for a response.

"Father!" Telemachus whisper-shouted, but Odysseus—despite clearly hearing him—kept going, a determined pep in his step.

Panic surged through Telemachus. His father was about to make it so much worse. Desperately, he glanced around, looking for an escape. And then, without thinking, he ducked behind a stack of barrels, pressing himself against the wall in mortified defeat.

He wanted the earth to swallow him right there and then.

"Hello." Odysseus' voice snapped both you and your father to attention.

"Oh—hello, my king, what brings you to us?" your father said, immediately dropping what he was doing to give the king of Ithaca a respectful bow of his head. You quickly followed suit, though your own bow was a little sloppier in your haste.

Odysseus acknowledged both of you with a nod in return—once to your father, then once to you.

"I just wanted to meet my son's friend," he said casually. "Make up for lost time."

At the mention of Telemachus, your ears perked, and your gaze instinctively swept the area, searching for him. It was an unconscious reaction—but not one that went unnoticed by Odysseus.

"Is... is he here?" you asked, smoothing down some stray hairs without realizing it.

Odysseus' lips curled slightly in amusement, though his sharp eyes held something more calculating. He looked behind him, to where his son once stood. "He was. But he seems to have disappeared." His tone was light, but the glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly where his son had gone.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Sounds like him."

"Mm." Odysseus crossed his arms, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression. Then, after a brief pause, he gestured toward the town. "Care for a walk?"

You hesitated, glancing toward your father for guidance. He met your uncertain gaze with an encouraging nod.

"Of course," you answered, finally releasing your grip on your work.

Odysseus extended a hand to help you out of the boat. His grip was firm but not overbearing, a steady reminder of the strength he carried. You accepted his help with a small word of thanks, and he nodded in acknowledgment.

As you stepped onto solid ground, Odysseus and your father exchanged brief goodbyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Then, without further delay, you and the king of Ithaca set off down the worn path.

"Tell me—how did you and my son meet?"

"Oh, uh—he ran into me," you said, remembering the day vividly. "Literally."

Odysseus chuckled, nodding as if that sounded exactly like something Telemachus would do. "And you've been friends ever since?"

You smiled. "More or less. He's easy to talk to."

That earned a raised brow from the king. "Is he?"

You tilted your head, sensing a hidden layer to his question. "Once he warms up to you, yes. He's thoughtful, kind. He listens—really listens. Not just to respond, but because he cares about what you're saying."

Odysseus hummed, rubbing his beard in thought. "And what do you think of him?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. "I—well, I think highly of him, of course. He's my friend."

"Just a friend?" Odysseus asked, watching you closely.

You felt warmth creeping up your neck. "I—yes?"

He chuckled at your hesitation, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Well, I suppose time will tell." Then, as if switching subjects entirely, he gestured toward the boat growing smaller behind you. "You work hard."

"I have to," you said, welcoming the shift in topic. "It's not easy work, but it keeps me moving."

Odysseus nodded approvingly. "A strong back and a strong mind—both good things to have." He studied you for a moment longer before adding, "Loyalty is important too. My son, he has to be careful about who he trusts." You could sense something else in his words, more than a father concerned for his son, something personal.

You met his gaze steadily. "I understand. And I'd never betray his trust."

The weight behind your words must have satisfied him because, for the first time, Odysseus' sharp scrutiny softened into something resembling approval. "Good."

Then, without another word, he turned his head slightly and called out, far too casually.

"You can come out now, son."

A muffled curse sounded from behind some abandoned barrels.

Your face lit up with laughter as Telemachus sheepishly emerged from his not so secret hiding spot, his face redder than a pomegranate.

Odysseus clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, grinning. "A prince shouldn't cower behind barrels, Telemachus. Stand tall."

Telemachus muttered something under his breath that you couldn't quite catch. You, however, were too busy giggling to care.

Odysseus gave you one last, knowing glance before stepping back. "I'll leave you two to it, then."

And just like that, he strode off, leaving Telemachus staring at you, utterly mortified.

──────💗──────

"He embarrassed me!"

"You embarrassed yourself."

Telemachus stared at his father in disbelief, then turned toward his mother, silently pleading for help.

Penelope and Odysseus sat side by side on a wooden bench, a stack of parchment spread across the table before them. Penelope had been signing documents, her focus divided between the ink stained sheets and the arms wrapped securely around her waist. Odysseus, ever at ease, rested his chin in the crook of her neck, perfectly content to hold her as she worked.

Penelope glanced up at her son, amusement flickering in her gaze. "Your father just wanted to help."

Telemachus groaned. Of course, he knew that, but did his father really have to do it like that? "I didn't need any help."

At that, Penelope and Odysseus exchanged a look—one of those unspoken conversations only long-married couples could have. A smirk tugged at Odysseus' lips, and Penelope barely suppressed a laugh.

Telemachus narrowed his eyes. "I mean it!"

"I already told you, sweetheart," Penelope said, her voice warm with patience. "You just need to ask them."

Telemachus hesitated. "But what if...?"

"The worst that can happen is them saying no." Odysseus chimed in, casual as ever.

Telemachus huffed. "No, the worst thing that can happen is my friendship with my best friend being destroyed because of my stupid heart!" He dramatically pounded his chest before flopping onto his parents' bed, face first, as if trying to bury his shame into the linens.

Odysseus exhaled through his nose. "You just need to go over there, stand your ground, and be confident."

Telemachus lifted his head just enough to shoot his father a deadpan look. "Be confident? Me?"

Odysseus shrugged. "It worked with your mother."

"No, it didn't."

The response came in stereo. Penelope's tone was amused and firm, while Telemachus' carried all the exasperation of someone who had grown up hearing his father's exaggerated tales one too many times.

Odysseus blinked. "What? Of course it did!"

Penelope gave him a knowing look. "No, I fell in love with you because of your intelligence and because you were so unapologetically you."

Odysseus crossed his arms. "...And my confidence and persistence too."

Penelope hummed, tilting her head. "Ehhh... the good looks did help."

"Hey!" Odysseus gasped in mock offense before playfully patting her waist and pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

Telemachus rolled his eyes. Of course, he loved his parents. Of course, he admired their relationship. But gods, was it frustrating to witness when he felt so incapable of achieving the same thing.

How was he supposed to be confident when confidence had never come naturally to him?

How was he supposed to just ask you when the very thought of it made his stomach twist itself into knots?

His whole life, he had watched his father's legendary feats unfold in the stories of others. Odysseus, the clever hero. Odysseus, the king of Ithaca. Odysseus, who could talk his way out of anything. He was larger than life, a master of words, a warrior, a man who could fight off monsters and trick the gods themselves.

And Telemachus?

Telemachus could barely keep his voice steady when he so much as thought about telling you how he felt.

It wasn't just rejection he feared—it was the aftermath. What if things changed? What if it became awkward between you? What if you started avoiding him? What if he lost you entirely?

He couldn't risk that.

But at the same time...

He wanted what his parents had. The quiet affection, the easy laughter, the deep-rooted love that had endured twenty years of separation.

He wanted you.

And yet—he felt stuck.

"That's why you should be yourself," Penelope's voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. "You've been friends for a while. They'll understand."

Telemachus sighed, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. "I can't be myself. Nobody wants that."

Odysseus snorted. "That's dramatic."

Penelope stood up and made her way to her son, gently touched his arm, her voice softer now. "Just try."

Telemachus swallowed, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Just try.

If only it were that easy.

──────💗──────

Telemachus couldn't get the interaction he had with you earlier that day out of his head. He had tried—tried so hard—to keep both his parents' advice in mind. He had finally gathered the confidence to tell you, rehearsing his words over and over, from the moment he woke up to the moment he finally said it.

Well... kind of said it.

You hadn't even heard him. And in that tiny, fleeting moment, all the courage he had painstakingly built crumbled into dust. When you looked at him with those oh so beautiful eyes and that perfect, heart melting smile, he panicked. The words he had prepared vanished like smoke, and before he knew it, he was scrambling to change the topic as fast as possible.

Now, as he replayed the disaster in his mind for what felt like the hundredth time, he decided it was both the smartest and most idiotic thing he had ever done. Smart—because he hadn't ruined your friendship. Stupid—because now he had to go through the agony of doing it all over again.

"You're distracted."

The sharp voice cut through his thoughts, making him flinch. His mentor, Athena, stood a few paces away, arms crossed, her piercing gaze locked onto him like a bird of prey. She had been watching his form as he attacked the training dummy, analyzing every movement, every hesitation.

Heat rushed to his face—not just from embarrassment, but because his mind had been so hopelessly wrapped around you. He swallowed thickly. "... It's [Name]," he admitted.

Athena let out a slow breath, attempting to mask both her amusement and her growing exasperation. She had seen this before—too many times, in fact. First with Odysseus, who had been equally lovesick, and now with his son, who spoke of you so fondly it was becoming predictable.

"Not again." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I am not Aphrodite. I can't help you."

But her words only sparked something in Telemachus. His eyes widened, a flicker of realization lighting them up, and then—

A grin.

"But you're Athena! Goddess of strategy!" He straightened, excitement practically radiating from him. "We can strategize this!"

Athena stared at him, expression flat.

"Please!" In a dramatic flourish, he dropped to his knees, hands clasped together in a desperate plea. "Every time I even think of them, my heart feels like it's going to burst through my ribs! Every time I look at them, I can barely think! I love them. I can't take it anymore!"

Athena sighed, looking up at the sky as if seeking divine patience. This was going to be a long conversation.

──────💗──────

The plan was simple. Or at least, Athena had made it sound simple.

Step one: Get you alone. Step two: Lead the conversation toward something sentimental. Step three: Casually, effortlessly, drop the confession like it was nothing.

Easy.

Except, now that Telemachus was actually there—walking beside you through the sun-dappled forest, the scent of pine and earth filling the air—his entire brain had turned to mush.

You walked ahead slightly, arms brushing away stray branches, sunlight catching in your hair just perfectly. You looked so at peace, humming softly to yourself, completely unaware of the internal war raging within him.

He needed to start the plan. Say something smooth. Something clever.

"So... uh." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat violently. "D-Do you like trees?"

You stopped mid step, turning to blink at him. "What?"

"Trees," he repeated, voice slightly strangled. "Do you... like them?"

A pause. Then, you burst into laughter. "Telemachus, we are literally in a forest."

He groaned internally. That was not part of the plan.

Desperate to recover, he tried again. "What I meant to say was... um, people... people are like trees!"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh? And how's that?"

"Uh..." He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "Well, some are really tall! And, uh, strong! Like... my father." He winced. Gods, this was a disaster.

You bit your lip, holding back another laugh. "Right. So, are you a tree too?"

"I—" He blushed slightly at the idea you might see him as someone strong. He was spiraling. "I think I might be a bush."

That was it. You doubled over, laughter spilling freely from your lips, and despite his humiliation, Telemachus felt his heart swell at the sound. He loved your laugh. He loved—

Wait. He was supposed to be confessing, not making an absolute fool of himself.

"Why are you so nervous?"

"Umm, it's just—" Telemachus' eyes darted rapidly, searching for something—anything—that could save him. His gaze landed on Athena, perched in the form of a huge white owl on a nearby branch, watching intently. He gave her a desperate, pleading look. She only responded with a subtle nod forward, directing his attention back to you.

"Are you alright?" you asked, concern laced in your voice. You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, forcing him to meet your eyes. Gods, you loved his eyes—the way they turned into molten honey when the sunlight hit them just right. At that moment, you cursed your father in your mind. He had hyped you up to finally tell Telemachus how you felt, only for the day to end with him having some allergic reaction or whatever was happening to him.

Telemachus stared at you, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The way the light bathed your features, making you seem almost ethereal—it was unfair. Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"By the gods, you are beautiful."

"What?"

"What?" His eyes widened slightly as if he could pretend he hadn't just spoken.

You raised an eyebrow. "I heard you. I just wanted to know if I heard right."

"Oh."

A thick silence settled between you. The air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken.

You swallowed hard, deciding to bite the bullet. "...I think you're beautiful too." The words tumbled out before you could second-guess yourself. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you forced yourself to push forward. "I like you. I like you a lot, and it's totally fine if you don't feel the same, I just can't hold it in anymo—"

"I do too."

The response came without hesitation, so natural it almost startled you. He took a deep breath, scanning your face for a reaction—some sign that he wasn't making a mistake. He found it.

His fingers tightened slightly around yours. "You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night." His voice was steadier now, more certain. "I try to find excuses to talk to you, to be around you, to hear you laugh—even if it's just for a moment. And I know I should have said something sooner, but I was terrified that if I did, I'd lose you."

The world around you blurred. The whispering leaves, the distant crash of waves against the shore, the rustling of Athena's wings—it all faded into the background.

"You won't lose me." you promised, squeezing his hand.

Telemachus let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His free hand hesitantly reached up, brushing against your cheek as if testing whether this moment was real.

"Then, can I—" He stopped himself, but the question lingered in the air.

You smiled. "You can."

And with that, he closed the distance, pressing his lips softly against yours.

BONUS:

"Would you be mad if I let go of your hand?" "Why? What's wrong?" "It's really sweaty"