#...it's oddly specific huh

[seneon]

i hate to be those booktok girls who goes like "omg dazai is so relatable" "omg sewercide king!!" "he's literally me fr!" but like... the way he writes oba yozo's view on his family in no longer human actually gave me chills when i read it. wdym you're only funny n silly to your family but feels the least speck of human emotion and understanding !! wdym you're a people pleaser!! wdym you draw morbid paintings to feel something!! clown shit!! ( he js like me fr )

[eats-the-stars]

everybody who went to a private catholic school name the craziest personal belief an instructor lectured the class on.

i'll go first: mentally disabled people are free of original sin, just like animals, so they get a free pass to heaven

[chipistrate]

How's it going fnafers

[asthedeathoflight]

When chapter 6 of the siren au comes out you guys are going to think "well that was kind of too much time you spent describing all the ways rembrandts skin is fucked up and how much pain she was in for your fun magical realism au" but i just want you to know everything happening to her in that fic is literally happening to me in this moment as im writing. And i dont even have magic powers. So think before you speak.

[ded-inside-anonymous]

I think that my dentist told me to kiss people? Idk it was an oddly specific interaction, but if I turn out to be bad at kissing I will be thoroughly upset

[justwannabecat]

MURDER UNCLE SLADE WILSON IS A RECOGNIZED TAG ON AO3 DHFNHJGUFYDGXJFFS

[skyward-floored]

comin' into your inbox

sayin' hi

'cause I think you're awesome and very relatable and I hope you have a wonderful time of everything :)

Sayin’ hiya back :)

Hope you’ve been having a good weekend!

[rcbertsugden]

.

[suiana]

yandere! male housewife who randomly spawns in your life one day.

you wake up, still feeling slightly sleepy only to be greeted by... this oddly delicious smell of eggs and pancakes???

"good morning sunshine!"

"ah!"

suddenly, this random man that you've NEVER met before walks in, breakfast tray full of all your favourite things, beaming and treating you like you two are a happily married couple.

what the actual fuck.

"bro get out of my house???"

"darling, i know you're confused but please don't tell me to leave☹️ i just cooked all this for you! it's really not that hard to say a simple thank you, you know?"

"I don't even know who you are💀"

he doesn't get out of your house.

and he even has the audacity to stay there, sit on your bed, and feed you. huh??? what???

anyway! you end up in this weird forced relationship that you're dragged into because this guy doesn't seem to take no for an answer. not only is he obsessed and completely smittened by you, he's also... very persistent. too persistent. it's like he doesn't know when to give up. specifically in asking for your attention.

and he wonders why you don't like him...

"darling! it's time for our daily cuddling session!"

"yes dear..."

you're exhausted. absolutely drained from his constant affections that threaten to suffocate you. but you can do nothing about it because this man, like i said, doesn't take no for an answer.

"can you leave me alone?"

"haha... no why would i do that?"

"because i asked?"

":3"

i mean, at least he can cook and clean? you haven't touched the stove or your laundry ever since he appeared in your life so at least that's a positive. i guess. i dunno, maybe if you make him jealous or angry...

"no dinner tonight."

"what? why?"

"you went out without telling me how could you do this to your husband?"

"for the LAST time, we are NOT married."

#oldmarriedcouple

[goaskangel]

making a movie with shiu + toji !! part one

cw : pure smut, toji n shiu being total pervs, recording, slapping, extremely gross

you couldn’t understand what they had in common. they got along so well but you still find it hard to believe that shiu kong and toji fushiguro would hang out with each other on purpose. let alone work together as managers. shiu being so work focused and smooth. toji being aggressive and competitive, but they were both cocky. constantly cackling at their inside jokes and whistling at the women passing by on their matching breaks, it’s surprising they actually got work done. 

absolutely no shame behind their sly eyes when they flirt with you, the woman they hired. after befriending you, the small line they, unusually, didn’t cross was practically nonexistent. toji would twirl your hair mid conversation at the front, empty counter at work. shiu casually sliiiiding behind you at the tight space in the staff-only back, hands on hips. 

treating you so so nice by driving you around, giving you the extra bonus just ‘cause, taking you out for drinks. they like that especially, seeing you get super bubbly. soo dizzy, you most definitely won’t notice the bulge in shiu’s pants, or how toji has to readjust himself through his sweats.

so when you find yourself in bed, massaging your dull cunt with your vibe, unable to get anywhere near close, you scroll through your phone, getting bored of whichever social you were on but jumping slightly when your phone vibrates. 

the screen delays by a few before you read ‘mr. manager #2.’

mmm, toji. 

you sit up and answer the call, “hi, what’s up?”

“hey, sweets. me and kong thought we should stop by.”

huh? stop by? “why? did i leave something in his car again?”

it sounds like he laughs away from his phone, “no, no. not again. was wonderin’ if you wanted to do the thing you always wanted.”

the hell is he talking about? “what thing?” 

“about making a movie.” 

right, okay. “...when did i say that?” you held your phone with both hands.

“aw, she doesn’t remember. at the bar. told me and kong you’ve always wanted to.”

there’s no way, you think to yourself. no way you could’ve gotten so drunk that you can’t remember what you said to your managers. what else could you have told them?

“you there, honey?” 

“yeah, yeah.” you get up, pushing your things in the bedside drawer and hastily pulling your shorts up. 

“mhm, right then. we’re pulling up. don’t fall asleep on us now.” he says bye, followed by the sound of a car drifting. you stare at the screen for a while, walking to the front near the door. it hit you, toji and shiu are coming over to your place to make a movie. straight up admitting to wanting to record fucking their employee. 

the doorknob rattles before being properly knocked on, how long had you been standing and day-dreaming for? you walk to the door and open it.

greeted with dressed down, casual men. toji slightly taller, more buff considering he was wearing a very nice tank and his beefy arms were out. shiu dressed a little more appropriately, but still incredibly good looking. a big black camera in his right hand. you’re too distracted to notice it first until it snaps a picture right at your face,

“pretty, pretty. we’ll see how ya look after we’re done with you, huh, doll?” 

“you know i don’t even remember saying anything.”

“lemme remind you then,” toji says, walking past you inside to the living room, shiu following. you sigh at their intrusion before closing and locking the door behind you. 

“hmmm, ya mentioned it a few times. ‘i’ve fantasized about being recorded with two guys on me.’ ain’t that oddly specific?” he chuckles at his own mockery of a drunken-you.

“people say a lot of crap while they’re drunk.”

“yeah, but you still let us in.”

“yeah, what’s it gonna be, doll?” shiu squints as he adjusts the camera’s focus and zoom before cleaning the lens with his shirt, lifting it and revealing his toned body. pudge to his stomach, a trail of black hair down his middle. you gulp as you shift in your now seat on the couch, toji towering over you. his big hands resting on his slim waist. god, this really does feel like a porno. the desperate high you’ve been trying to reach finally throbs behind your panties. “make you feel real good. satisfy all those needs you told us about.” he steps closer, twirling the hair out of your face, gently stroking his big fingertips on your jaw. he notices the slightly confused look through your dazed expression.

“like havin’ two cocks in your mouth,” he squeezes your cheeks with three fingers, making you pout, “getting pushed around. hold you down. a little spanking.” a smile tugs at your lip.

“yeah? ya like that sound of that?” he teasingly slaps your face gently. 

“mm, mhm.” so pathetic, you think to yourself. you are most definitely not watching this back. that is if they even give you the tape, sickos might just keep it for themselves. 

“yeah, toj’, slap her ‘round some more.” a black lens focuses on you as toji holds your face in his hands, giving you a few practice taps before slapping you with a hefty hand. you whine at the impact and squeeze your eyes shut as he lands another. 

“open y’er eyes, pretty thing. keep ‘em on me.” his strong fingers going down to grip your throat. your hesitant eyes open to find a sly, sly grin on his scarred lip. his dazed eyes holding malicious intent. “you like the contact, i know you do.” petting the hair out of your face, dragging his palms down to your shoulders, then torso. he lifts you up just to push you down to your knees, still petting you as you’re met with his bulge in your face.

“go ahead, girl. take toji’s cock out.”

a/n...HIIIII PART TWO COMING SOON I HOPE U ENJOYED!!!! read my other stuff while i pull pt 2 out of my ass xoxo!

PART TWO

masterlist

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad - Lilia Vanrouge x reader

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

Series Masterlist

You love your best friend. You really, really do. But sometimes—sometimes—the things they drag you into make you question your life choices. This time? It’s a novel. A bad one.

The plot is borderline unreadable, but somehow, it’s now your problem. Because of course it is.

“So, listen,” your friend had said, waving the book around like it was some kind of literary masterpiece. “Malleus Draconia, the fae prince, is cursed—chained up in this forest. The curse can only be broken by someone who isn’t attracted to him. But here’s the kicker: he’s so hot that no one can break the curse. For ten years.”

“Uh-huh.” You’d nodded along, already feeling your brain cells start to wave white flags of surrender. But your friend continued.

“The main character stumbles upon him after years of drama and frees him because they’re the only one not drooling over him. Then they fall in love, blah, blah, blah.”

At this point, you were barely listening. But then they dropped the bomb. Your eyes were shutting and you felt the sweet embrace of sleep call to you.

“Also, there’s this subplot where a magical plague of squirrels overruns the kingdom, the Saint betrays everyone by secretly being a double agent for some shadowy organization, and—get this—there’s a surprise paternity reveal where the devil is the father of the Saint who turns out to be the evil villain controlling everything.”

Your face had hit the pillow as your soul left your body.

And somehow, the next thing you remember is waking up dead. Or, more specifically, reincarnated. In the body of the heroine. In that story.

You can't believe the story was so terrible that it killed you.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that the room is way too fancy for your tastes. The bed is massive, the sheets feel like they cost more than your entire existence, and the walls are adorned with tacky portraits of people who are probably supposed to be important.

“Oh, no,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. “This can’t be happening.”

But it is. You’re in the novel. The very one your friend had been yammering about. And not only are you in it, but you’ve woken up a full year before the plot is supposed to kick off. A year of waiting for terrible drama, an ex-fiancé who can’t take a hint, and a poor fae prince you’re supposed to rescue.

But you? Yeah, you’re not that patient.

“No way am I waiting a whole year for some garbage plot to unfold,” you mutter, throwing the covers off. “I’m just going to free Malleus now, take my reward, and live a quiet, drama-free life by the beach.”

With that plan firmly in mind, you march out the door.

It takes a bit of wandering through some overly cursed forest, but you eventually find Malleus’s “prison.” And honestly? It’s not nearly as dramatic as you expected.

There he is, sitting in the middle of a clearing, chained up in some kind of spooky-but-also-weirdly-ornate setup. He looks just as the novel described: tall, dark-haired, horns giving him an air of mystery and power. But what you weren’t prepared for? The way his eyes widen slightly in surprise when he sees you.

“I wasn’t expecting… company,” Malleus says, his voice soft, almost tentative.

You pause for a second. He looks intimidating, sure, but there’s something oddly… sweet about him. Like a guy who’d get excited over a party invite and then be too shy to actually show up.

“Yeah, I’m just here to get this whole ‘curse-breaking’ thing out of the way,” you say casually, walking up to the chains. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

Malleus blinks, looking a bit confused. “You… are not attracted to me?”

You snort. “Nah, not really. You’re nice to look at, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve got my own problems. Let’s just get you free so I can collect my reward and move on.”

He still looks mildly surprised but nods. “Very well.”

With a shrug, you reach out and touch the chains. There’s a brief flicker of light, and they dissolve. Just like that.

Malleus looks down at his freed wrists, clearly shocked. “It… it worked.”

“Yeah, wild, right?” you say, brushing off your hands. “So, about that reward…”

Before you can finish, Malleus stands and, in a tone so polite it makes you feel guilty, says, “You have freed me. Please, allow me to invite you to stay at my castle. As a guest.”

You blink at him. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

Malleus’s expression falters for a moment, and you swear he looks a little sad. “But… I would like to repay you for your kindness.”

He’s giving you this look, all wide-eyed and hopeful, and you realize—he just wants to hang out.

Oh no.

“Ugh, fine,” you groan. “I’ll stick around for a bit.”

The way his face lights up is honestly too pure for someone who was supposed to be all intimidating and all-powerful.

When you arrive at Malleus’s castle, things get interesting real fast. You’re greeted by his entourage—Sebek, who looks like he’s one insult away from going Super Saiyan; Silver, who’s napping on his feet; and Lilia, who seems like the embodiment of chaos.

Sebek is the first to speak, scowling at you with righteous fury. “How DARE you approach Lord Malleus with such insolence!”

You roll your eyes. “I just freed him. You’re welcome.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode, but Lilia steps forward, his sharp grin making you instantly suspicious. “Oh? You broke the curse? Without being… swayed by our dear Malleus’s charms?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “Didn’t even break a sweat.”

Lilia’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Fascinating. You must have quite the willpower. Or perhaps…” He looks you up and down, clearly intrigued. “You simply have different tastes?”

You blink. Then, without thinking, you point at him. “Actually, yeah. You’re hot.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence, during which Sebek looks like he’s been hit with a brick, and Lilia lets out a delighted laugh.

“Oh, you are a delight,” Lilia says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Perhaps you should stay longer.”

“You think I’m joking, but I’m not,” you deadpan, earning a grin from Lilia.

Silver, meanwhile, is still half-asleep and completely unfazed by your chaos. “Good job on freeing Malleus,” he mutters, yawning.

Malleus, who has been silent this whole time, finally speaks up. “You… do not find me attractive?”

You turn to him and sigh. “Look, it’s not that you’re not attractive. You’re, like… objectively pretty. But I don’t really go for the whole cursed prince thing.”

Malleus seems to process this slowly, his brows furrowing slightly. “I see…”

“But don’t worry,” you add quickly, feeling a bit bad for the guy. “You’re sweet. It’s a compliment, really.”

Malleus looks a little less confused and a bit more happy. “Sweet? No one has ever called me that before.”

You snort. “Well, I’m calling it now. And hey, you’ve got your freedom, right? Now you can get invited to all those parties you wanted.”

At this, Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, and you realize—oh no, he’s the type who really just wants to be invited to stuff.

“Oh,” you mutter under your breath, “you’re like a giant puppy, aren’t you?”

Malleus tilts his head, clearly confused, but before he can ask, Lilia leans in with a knowing grin. “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “This is gonna be a long stay, isn’t it?”

Lilia’s smile widens. “Oh, most definitely.”

Later, you’re sitting around the dining hall with the group when Lilia casually brings up the dreaded plot points.

“So, when do you think the magical plague of squirrels will hit?” he asks, almost too casually.

You nearly choke on your drink. “The what now?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Lilia smirks. “There’s a prophecy. The squirrels will overrun the kingdom unless someone stops them.”

You blink. “This is real? I thought that part was a fever dream.”

Malleus nods seriously. “The squirrels are quite the threat.”

You slam your head on the table. “I’m trapped in a nightmare.”

Silver, half-asleep as always, just yawns. “I’ll take care of them. Probably.”

And that’s when you realize: maybe you should have let the curse be.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, but you and Malleus… well, you’ve become friends. It started small, mostly casual conversations where he’d hover around, awkward but eager, just happy to be included. There was this one time you invited him to tea, and the poor guy looked like he was about to cry from happiness. Now? You’re taking your frienship to the next level.

“Hey,” you say, strolling into the throne room where Malleus is doing the farthest thing from brooding. He’s just kind of standing there, staring out the window like he’s daydreaming about a really nice picnic. “Want to go to the market with me?”

The look on his face is priceless. His eyes widen like you’ve just handed him a golden ticket to the best party of the year. “You… want me to accompany you?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, as if this isn’t the biggest deal of his life. “I need to pick up some stuff, and I figured it’d be more fun with a friend. Plus, y’know, maybe someone will actually give me a discount if you’re there.”

Malleus looks like you just offered him the world “I would be honored.”

And that’s how you, Malleus, and the rest of his chaotic entourage—because of course they followed��ended up at the bustling market.

Sebek? Less than thrilled. In fact, you think he might actually be foaming at the mouth. “I cannot believe you are fraternizing with Lord Malleus so casually! Do you not understand the honor you’ve been given?!”

“Sebek,” you sigh, waving a hand dismissively, “we’ve been over this. I’m his friend. Friends do normal stuff together. You know, like going to the market.”

Sebek glares at you like you’ve just insulted his entire bloodline. “Lord Malleus does not engage in such trivialities!”

“Uh,” you glance over at Malleus, who is currently inspecting a row of intricately carved fruit. “He’s literally doing it right now, Sebek.”

Malleus turns to you, holding up a fruit shaped like a tiny dragon. “Would you like to try one? It is said to bring good fortune.”

You grin at him. “If you’re offering, I’m down.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode from sheer indignation.

“You dare—!”

“Sebek,” Malleus cuts in, his voice as gentle as ever. “I am quite enjoying myself. There’s no need to worry.”

You grin at the sight. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Malleus glances at you, a little bashful but still smiling. “I have never been invited to something like this before. It is… a new experience.”

Oh god, he’s so sweet. You feel like you’re corrupting a baby deer by dragging him into the real world, but it’s so worth it.

Lilia, however, is having the time of his life. He leans over, grinning like the mischievous little gremlin he is, and whispers in your ear, “I must say, you’ve got quite the charm. Lord Malleus rarely accepts invitations. You might be more important to him than you think.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, maybe he just really likes fruit.”

Lilia laughs, a sound that’s equal parts endearing and dangerous. “Or maybe he enjoys your company, hm?”

“Careful,” you say, flashing a grin. “Keep sweet-talking me like that, and I might start flirting back.”

Lilia’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Oh? I think I’d enjoy that.”

Oh god, he’s not backing down. Now you’re in the deep end. “Listen, if you keep going, I’m gonna have to ask if you’ve got plans for dinner.”

“I’m free this evening,” Lilia replies smoothly. “Shall I prepare a feast? Or perhaps we could have something more… intimate?”

You blink at him, unable to tell if he’s messing with you or if this is just how he operates. Either way, you’re so down to find out.

Before you can respond, Sebek cuts in, voice raised to what can only be described as ‘angry airhorn.’ “You will not speak so casually to Master Lilia!”

“Oh, Sebek, relax,” you say, patting him on the shoulder, which is a mistake because it feels like patting a brick wall. “He likes it.”

Lilia winks at you, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. “Indeed, I do.”

You smirk, shooting Lilia a playful look. “See? The man’s practically begging for attention.”

Malleus, meanwhile, has been watching this entire exchange with mild confusion. “Is this what humans call… flirting?”

You give him an exaggerated nod. “Yup. It’s a sacred tradition. Very serious stuff.”

“I see,” Malleus muses, looking between you and Lilia. “Perhaps I should try it as well?”

“Oh, please don’t,” Sebek groans, looking absolutely horrified at the idea of Malleus flirting. “Lord Malleus, you are above such trivial pursuits!”

Lilia is practically cackling at this point. “Now, now, Sebek. It wouldn’t hurt to let Malleus explore new experiences.”

You grin and elbow Malleus lightly. “Don’t listen to Sebek. You can totally flirt if you want.”

Malleus, sweet as he is, looks completely serious when he asks, “What would I say? I do not wish to offend.”

You pause, trying very hard not to laugh. “Okay, how about this? Try complimenting someone. Like…” You glance around and point at a vendor selling flowers. “Tell them they have lovely flowers.”

Malleus nods, taking this very seriously, and walks over to the vendor. You, Lilia, Sebek, and Silver (who’s been napping the whole time) watch as Malleus, ever the gentleman, says to the vendor, “Your flowers… are as radiant as the moonlight.”

The vendor looks flustered, blushing furiously. “Oh! Thank you, My Lord!”

You can’t help but laugh. “See? You’re a natural.”

Malleus returns to your side, looking pleased with himself. “I believe that went well.”

“Yeah, now you just have to work on *accepting* compliments,” you say with a wink, and Malleus tilts his head slightly in confusion.

“Accepting?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “like, if I were to tell you you’re the sweetest giant fae-dragon puppy I’ve ever met, you’d say…?”

Malleus looks genuinely flustered, his cheeks tinting the faintest shade of pink. “I… would say… thank you?”

“Good enough,” you laugh, nudging him playfully. “We’ll work on it.”

Sebek is muttering to himself about ‘disrespect’ and ‘sacrilege,’ but Malleus looks… happy. Like, really happy. He’s still a little awkward, sure, but you can tell he’s having a good time. Probably more fun than he’s had in years.

Lilia, meanwhile, is back at your side, leaning in close with that smirk of his. “You’re quite the influence, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” you grin, “someone’s gotta drag him into the real world.”

“Perhaps you’ll drag me into something as well?” Lilia purrs, his voice low and teasing.

You blink at him. “Keep talking, and I might actually propose to you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Lilia says, eyes glinting with mischief. “Perhaps later tonight?”

“Is that an invitation?” you quip, raising an eyebrow.

Sebek practically has steam coming out of his ears. “Master Lilia!”

But Lilia just laughs, utterly unfazed. “Oh, Sebek. You really must learn to loosen up.”

Silver yawns loudly, cutting through Sebek’s rant like a chainsaw through butter. “Can we get food now?”

You snort. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Malleus, ever the polite host, nods eagerly. “Yes, let us dine together. A family outing is not complete without a meal.”

You pause, blinking. Family? Did he just call this a family outing?

Lilia catches your expression and chuckles. “Oh dear, it seems Malleus has grown quite fond of you.”

You shoot him a playful glare. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” Lilia says, smiling knowingly. “In fact, I believe it’s quite the opposite.”

Before you can respond, Malleus steps up, still radiating pure joy. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight? I would very much enjoy your company.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to self-destruct from sheer disbelief, but you? You can’t help but grin. “Sure, why not? But if I catch you stealing my dessert, it’s game over.”

Malleus chuckles, his awkwardness fading just a bit. “I shall do my best to restrain myself.”

Lilia leans over, voice low and teasing again. “Perhaps you’ll save dessert for me, hm?”

You snort. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

“Ah, but I’m a fae. Luck is my specialty.”

You shake your head, grinning as you walk alongside Malleus, who’s positively glowing with happiness. Yeah, this is one weird, dysfunctional family, but maybe you like it that way.

It’s quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones, making you feel both peaceful and unbearably restless. You find yourself standing on a balcony, overlooking the courtyard bathed in moonlight. The cool breeze whispers through the trees, the scent of night-blooming flowers drifting lazily through the air.

Lilia stands beside you, leaning against the stone railing, his usual playful demeanor absent. In its place is a rare solemnity, something you’ve only seen glimpses of before. You glance at him, noting the way the moonlight catches in his hair, casting soft shadows across his face. It feels... strange, seeing him like this. So serious, so quiet.

After a long silence, he speaks, his voice soft but weighted with emotion. “I was terrified, you know. Of losing him.”

You don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. Malleus. The curse that had wrapped around him for so long, a dark cloud that threatened to take him away. You had been the unexpected catalyst for breaking it, and while you hadn’t fully understood the gravity of it at the time, you’re beginning to now.

Lilia continues, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “I’ve lived a long time. I’ve seen many things, lost many people... but the thought of losing him...” He trails off, his voice catching in a way that makes your heart ache. “It would have broken me.”

You swallow, unsure of what to say. What can you say to something like that? You’re just... you. You never asked to be involved in any of this, never imagined that you’d become such an important part of these people’s lives. But here you are.

“I didn’t do anything special,” you finally manage, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I was just... there.”

Lilia turns to look at you, and there’s something deep in his eyes—something raw and real that takes your breath away. “Sometimes just being there is enough,” he says quietly. “You saved him. And in doing so, you saved me too.”

You shift uncomfortably, not because of his words, but because of the way they tug at something deep inside of you. A part of you that you’ve been trying to keep buried for as long as you’ve been in this strange, unfamiliar world.

You’re silent for a long time, your gaze fixed on the moonlit sky. The memories of your old life swirl in your mind—your family, your best friend, all the people you’ve left behind. You haven’t spoken about it to anyone here, not in detail. It feels too dangerous, too vulnerable. But standing here, under the moonlight with Lilia, you feel like maybe... just maybe... you can share a piece of it.

“I miss them,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “My family. My best friend. I miss... home.”

Lilia doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his presence beside you, warm and steady. He doesn’t press for details, doesn’t ask questions you’re not ready to answer. He just listens, and somehow, that’s enough.

You take a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs. “It’s hard,” you continue, your voice shaking slightly. “Being here. Being away from them. Sometimes it feels like... like I’m losing pieces of myself. Like I’m forgetting what it felt like to be... whole.”

Lilia’s hand gently rests on your shoulder, a comforting weight that grounds you. “You haven’t lost yourself,” he says quietly. “Not even a little.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. You don’t know if he’s right, but in this moment, you want to believe him. You want to believe that despite everything, despite the distance and the pain and the uncertainty, you’re still... you.

For a long time, the two of you stand in silence, the only sounds the soft rustling of the trees and the distant chirping of crickets. The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting everything in a silvery glow. There’s a quiet understanding between you and Lilia, a shared pain that neither of you needs to fully explain.

Eventually, Lilia speaks again, his voice so soft it almost blends with the wind. “The world can be a cruel place,” he murmurs. “But it can also be kind. And in moments like this... it feels just a little more bearable, doesn’t it?”

You nod, your throat tight with unshed tears. “Yeah,” you whisper. “It does.”

The night stretches on, and though neither of you say anything more, there’s a comfort in the silence. A bond formed in the quiet acknowledgment of each other’s pain. And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re not quite so alone.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay.

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here, but somehow, you’re on a date with Lilia. Yes, that Lilia—lord of chaos, culinary adventurer, and general source of havoc.

The setting is picturesque enough: a meadow at sunset, complete with wildflowers and a gentle breeze. At least, it would be picturesque if not for the feast Lilia has prepared, which has a worrying amount of color, movement, and mystery.

“Surprise is the key to a romantic evening,” Lilia declares as he gestures proudly over the assortment of dishes.

You take a moment to assess the display. There’s a vibrantly colored stew that seems to be emitting steam with a life of its own. A platter of vegetables is twitching as if they’re reconsidering their life choices. And there’s a pie—definitely a pie—with something that looks suspiciously like an eyeball poking out from under the crust.

Lilia smiles at you, eyes glinting. “Would you like to try the stew first, my dear? It’s my own special concoction.”

You stare at it, then at him. “How many people have survived eating this?”

Lilia leans in, eyes full of mischief. “Define survived.”

You grin. “Only one way to find out, right?” Before he can respond, you reach for the bowl and take a large spoonful of the stew. Lilia’s eyebrows rise, clearly impressed by your boldness.

It tastes... unusual. Like someone mixed spicy peppers, sweet berries, and some kind of very sharp herb. You take another bite, considering.

Lilia watches you, waiting for a reaction. “Well?” he asks, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You swallow, then nod thoughtfully. “It’s... actually good. Really good, in fact.”

Lilia blinks, his expression shifting from mischief to genuine surprise. “Really?”

You nod again, going in for a third bite, savoring the strange combination of flavors. “Yeah! I mean, it’s different, but in a good way. The spice, the sweetness... it kind of works.”

Lilia’s face lights up, his delight palpable. “You truly mean it? My culinary prowess is usually met with... trepidation.”

“Trepidation might be an understatement,” you say with a laugh. “But honestly? I think people don’t give you enough credit.”

From somewhere nearby, a strangled gasp echoes across the meadow.

“Master Lilia!” Sebek’s voice rings out, sounding more horrified than ever. You glance in the direction of the bushes where, sure enough, they’re rustling. Apparently, Sebek has taken it upon himself to supervise this date from afar.

Lilia chuckles, clearly enjoying Sebek's reaction as much as yours. “Oh, my dear Sebek. One day, you shall learn that adventure begins in the kitchen.”

You take a sip of the iridescent liquid before you—a drink that looks more like a potion than anything else. It’s sparkling, and it has the distinct taste of... glittery fruit juice? You’re not sure, but it’s oddly refreshing.

Lilia eyes you, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “I must say, you are full of surprises. Most would have fainted by now.”

“Hey, I can handle a little excitement,” you say, reaching for one of the twitching vegetables.

Lilia watches in awe as you pop it into your mouth and chew. “And?” he asks, almost breathless.

You blink. “Crunchy. Kind of earthy. I like it.”

Lilia’s smile widens, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Oh, how wonderful! My dear, you truly are one of a kind.”

Sebek’s dismayed groan echoes once again, and you laugh, glancing toward the bushes. “I think we’re breaking poor Sebek.”

“Well, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Lilia replies, leaning closer to you. “And speaking of fun, I have something special for you.” He produces a bright blue flower, presenting it to you with a flourish.

You take it, giving it a cautious sniff. It smells like fresh-baked cookies, and you look at Lilia, raising an eyebrow. “A flower that smells like dessert? Now you’re really spoiling me.”

Lilia’s eyes soften, his voice lowering. “Only the best for someone who appreciates my unique touch.”

Before you can reply, there’s another voice—this one distinctly sleepy. “Father, what... what’s going on here?” Silver approaches, looking like he just woke up from a nap. He takes one look at the scene—the half-eaten dishes, the flower in your hand, and Lilia’s delighted expression—and sighs. “Are you actually eating this... willingly?”

You nod, grinning. “Turns out Lilia’s cooking isn’t so bad. It’s actually kind of great.”

Silver looks at you, then at Lilia, then back at you. He blinks, his brain clearly trying to process this information. “Father, are you using magic to manipulate their taste buds?”

Lilia puts a hand over his heart, looking offended. “Silver, how could you suggest such a thing? I assure you, our dear friend here is enjoying my cooking purely of their own volition.”

Silver sighs again, rubbing his temples. “I think I need another nap.”

Lilia laughs, turning his attention back to you, his eyes filled with affection. “You truly are something special, my dear. Few have ever dared, let alone enjoyed, my creations.”

You smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “Well, I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

Lilia leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Would it be too much to say I find you... irresistible?”

You chuckle, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

Lilia smirks, his gaze full of warmth. “Ah, but pushing my luck is what I do best. Perhaps next time, I’ll cook an even more adventurous meal for us.”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “Define adventurous.”

Lilia’s eyes glint mischievously. “How about roasted phoenix feathers?”

“Phoenix feathers?” you echo, shaking your head with a laugh. “You know what? I think I like you just the way you are—absurd cooking experiments and all.”

Lilia’s expression softens, his smile turning tender. “I’m glad to hear it.”

With that, the two of you rise, arm in arm, leaving behind the bizarre remains of the meal. Somewhere in the bushes, Sebek is probably fuming, and Silver has most likely already fallen asleep again.

But as you glance at Lilia, whose eyes are still filled with excitement and warmth, you think that maybe absurd is just what you need.

You love this little family, but you had to gain equal footing with Sebek before you got attached any further. So you did what you thought would work the best— Challenge him in something he enjoys.

You and Sebek had been circling the field for a while now, your horses galloping side by side as you both tried to outpace each other. The competitive tension was thick in the air, though not hostile—it was more of an unspoken game to see who would crack first.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve been riding horses for *years*?” Sebek shouts over the wind, his eyes sharp with determination.

“Yup,” you reply, grinning as your horse picks up speed. “Equestrian club, since I was a kid. Surprised?”

Sebek huffs, his posture straight and rigid as always, but you can tell he’s impressed. “It’s… commendable. For a human, you’ve got some skill.”

“Some skill?” you tease, glancing over at him with a mischievous smile. “Is that all I get? Come on, Sebek, I thought you were competitive.”

He narrows his eyes at you, spurring his horse faster to pull ahead. “I am competitive! You’ll find I do not lose so easily.”

You laugh, nudging your horse to keep up. There’s a thrill in it—pushing each other, but not in a mean way. Sebek’s passion for horse riding matches your own, and it’s fun to finally find common ground with him. Plus, you’re enjoying the challenge.

The field blurs by as you both race toward the far fence, neither of you backing down. As you approach the finish line (or rather, the arbitrary spot you both decided was the end), you both cross it at nearly the same time, pulling your horses to a halt, panting slightly.

Sebek is the first to speak, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “Hmph. You’re not bad.”

“Not bad? I’d say I’m pretty good,” you shoot back, grinning ear to ear.

Sebek scoffs, but there’s a lightness in his tone that wasn’t there before. “You’re still a human, but… I’ll admit, you ride with some honor.”

“Wow, high praise,” you tease, but you soften your smile. “Thanks, Sebek. You’re not half-bad yourself.”

For a split second, you think you catch the ghost of a smile on his face, but it quickly disappears as he straightens in his saddle. “Of course. Riding is in my blood.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, obviously. I bet you were born in the saddle.”

“Perhaps I was,” Sebek says, completely serious. You stifle a laugh, realizing he probably believes that.

But before you can retort, Lilia rides up, his usual mischievous grin firmly in place. “Ah, what’s this? A friendly competition between two of my favorite people?”

“Master Lilia,” Sebek says, immediately shifting into soldier mode. “We were just—”

“Competing, yes, I can see that.” Lilia’s grin widens as he glances between the two of you. “I must say, the sight of you both racing like that was… quite exhilarating.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “What, did we impress you?”

Lilia leans closer, voice dropping into a playful tone. “Oh, darling, I’ve been impressed by you for quite some time now.”

Sebek looks like he’s about to faint from sheer mortification. “MASTER LILIA! HUMAN!”

You laugh, waving Lilia off. “Careful, Sebek, you’re gonna scare your horse.”

But surprisingly, Sebek doesn’t snap back. Instead, he looks at you, something softer in his expression. “I admit… you’ve shown me something today. Perhaps you’re not just a reckless human after all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Wow, Sebek. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re starting to like me.”

Sebek grumbles, looking away. “Do not mistake my words. I merely acknowledge your competence. Nothing more.”

“Sure, sure,” you reply, still grinning. “But hey, anytime you wanna ride again, I’m game.”

Sebek glances back at you, his usual harshness softened just a bit. “Perhaps… I will take you up on that.”

Lilia chuckles, clearly pleased with the budding camaraderie. “Ah, it warms my heart to see you two bonding. Who knows? Maybe you’ll become the best of friends.”

You wink at Lilia. “Well, if Sebek keeps up, maybe I’ll make him my official riding partner.”

Sebek, for once, doesn’t argue. Instead, he gives a small, determined nod. “We shall see, human. We shall see.”

As you ride back toward the stables, you can’t help but smile. You’ve earned a bit of respect from Sebek, and who knows? Maybe you’ll turn this into a full-fledged rivalry—one with a bit more fun and a lot less shouting.

Lilia, of course, flirts all the way back, making sure to keep the mood light and teasing, much to Sebek’s increasing exasperation. But even he can't deny that today was fun

The day should've been as normal as you could have these days—your stomach had other plans. There’s this nagging craving in the back of your mind for ramen, but of course, you’re stuck in a medieval isekai world where even the concept of instant noodles would make heads explode.

You groan, pacing back and forth in your room. "Ramen, ramen, ramen..." You’re practically chanting it like a spell. Finally, you snap your fingers. "Alright! Let’s get some ramen going!"

With all the determination of a contestant in a cooking show, you head to the market, a list of makeshift ingredients mentally prepared. You have no clue how you’re going to explain seaweed or soy sauce to the vendors, but hey, you’ve gotten this far in life on sheer audacity.

Except, ten minutes later, you find yourself hopelessly lost. You had been walking with confidence, chest out, head high, until you somehow managed to wander into a part of town that definitely wasn’t on your mental map. Instead of bustling vendors and cheerful shoppers, you’re now looking at a spooky, abandoned-looking area, complete with dense fog and suspiciously creaky trees.

“This... This isn’t the market,” you mutter, pausing in front of a seriously ominous cottage. If there were ever a sign that said "DO NOT ENTER" in flashing neon, this would be it. And yet, for reasons unknown even to yourself, you approach.

Before you can bolt in the opposite direction, the door swings open with the most dramatic creak you’ve ever heard. A woman, dressed in black robes, stands in the doorway with a gaze that could curdle milk. Her aura practically screams witch, and not the cool kind either—the villainous, melodramatic kind.

“Well, well, well,” she sneers, stepping out with all the grace of a Broadway villain, “look who wandered into my lair.”

“Uh, yeah...” You trail off, scratching the back of your head. “So… this isn’t the market?”

The witch gives you a look so condescending it could melt iron. “No,” she hisses, “it most certainly is not. You’ve trespassed on my domain, little fool!”

“Right, so sorry about that,” you say, trying to backpedal. “I’m just trying to make some ramen, and I—wait, hold on, who are you exactly?”

Her eyes flash with annoyance. “You don’t know who I am?”

You blink at her. “Is this the part where you tell me, like in those cartoons? ‘Cause I’m getting major ‘I’m about to monologue’ vibes right now.”

The witch’s face twitches, clearly not used to people interrupting her villain speech. “I,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “am the witch who cursed Malleus Draconia!”

Oh, that witch. You’ve heard some stories about her, mostly from half-paying attention when your friend geeked out over the original plot. But now that you’re face-to-face with her... this is not how you pictured it. You tilt your head.

“So, wait,” you begin, trying to suppress a snicker, “you’re the one who came up with that whole 15-year curse plan? And your big finale was… what? Swooping in at the last second to save him and then expecting him to marry you?”

Her eyes narrow. “That was the plan.”

You stare at her for a moment, the absurdity sinking in. “...That’s ridiculous.”

“How dare you mock me?!” she shrieks, her voice reaching a pitch that probably scared some birds out of nearby trees. She raises her hand, dark magic swirling between her fingers, and you swear you can hear thunder crack in the distance.

“Okay, hang on,” you say, taking a cautious step back. “Let’s not get all zappy here. I’m just saying that’s a lot of effort for a plan that has, like, a one percent success rate.”

“Silence!” She’s fuming now, throwing her hand forward to launch the magic at you—and you brace yourself for the worst. You’ve seen this in movies before. This is the part where you get turned into a frog or something equally terrible.

Except… nothing happens.

The magic fizzles out midair like a dud firecracker, leaving a puff of smoke and an awkward silence in its wake. You blink. She blinks. You both stare at the spot where the magic should have been.

“Uh…” you begin, rubbing the back of your neck. “Was that supposed to do something?”

The witch looks at her hand, then at you, then back at her hand again like she’s having a serious identity crisis. “What...?”

“I mean, points for the drama, but I’m still standing here,” you say, waving your hand in front of your face as if checking for damage. “And I don’t think I’m a toad.”

She tries again, gathering more magic in her hands and launching it at you with renewed fury. But once again, nothing. The magic stops short, fizzling out like it’s hitting an invisible barrier around you. Now she’s just staring at you, dumbfounded.

You, on the other hand, are absolutely flabbergasted. “Okay, this is getting weird.”

That’s when Lilia appears—literally, out of nowhere. He casually steps out from behind a tree like this is all a normal Monday for him. “Ah, I thought I sensed some familiar mischief afoot,” he says, his voice cheerful, though his eyes glint with something far more dangerous as they lock onto the witch.

The witch recoils, visibly shaken. “Lilia Vanrouge,” she hisses, sounding more like a disgruntled cat than a fearsome sorceress.

“In the flesh,” he says with a light bow, his grin all sharp teeth and mischief. “What brings you out of your little hidey-hole?”

She glares at him but doesn’t say anything. She’s outmatched, and she knows it. With one last seething look at you, she vanishes into thin air with a dramatic whoosh of smoke, leaving you and Lilia alone in the now eerily quiet forest.

You turn to him, utterly confused. “What the heck was that about? Why didn’t her magic work on me?”

Lilia’s grin softens, his gaze turning fond. “Ah, I see I’ve forgotten to tell you. I placed a fae’s blessing on you some time ago.”

“Wait, what?” You gape at him. “When did you do that?!”

He chuckles, as if you asking when he bestowed a magical shield on you is the most amusing thing he’s heard all week. “You tend to attract trouble, my dear. I thought it best to give you a little extra protection.”

You blink at him, still processing. “So… you’ve been secretly protecting me this whole time?”

His gaze turns a bit more serious, the usual playful air dropping away. “I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” he says softly, the words carrying a weight you hadn’t expected.

For a moment, you’re left speechless, flustered even. The teasing and jokes you’re so used to from Lilia are gone, replaced by something… deeper. It throws you off your game.

“Well, uh…” You clear your throat, desperately trying to recover. “I appreciate not getting turned into a frog or whatever she was planning.”

His grin returns, and the moment passes. “You’re welcome. Now, shall we head back to the market? I believe you were on a quest for... ramen, was it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as the absurdity of it all catches up with you. “Yeah, let’s do that. And maybe next time I’ll avoid wandering into spooky villain lairs.”

“An excellent plan,” he says, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

And just like that, you’re back on track—albeit a bit more shaken than before, but at least you’ve got a magical blessing you didn’t know about and one very charming fae escorting you through the mess.

You’re sitting under a large tree in the courtyard, soaking up the rare bit of peace and quiet that’s fallen over your life. It’s a nice day, the kind that makes you feel all warm and content, the sun shining gently through the leaves. Beside you, Silver is leaning against the trunk, dozing off as usual. You’ve become used to his tendency to fall asleep mid-conversation, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable.

He stirs a little, blinking his sleepy eyes open and looking at you with a soft smile. “It’s nice to have moments like this,” he says, voice a bit groggy. “Especially after everything.”

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning back on your hands. “It’s been... a lot.”

Silver glances at you, his gaze thoughtful. “You really helped us. My family,” he says, his tone a bit more serious than usual. “Freeing Lord Malleus from that curse... it was no small feat.”

Your stomach twists a little at the mention of Malleus. It still feels surreal that you had a hand in such a monumental event. You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Eh, you know... just another day of accidentally stumbling into chaos.”

He chuckles lightly, his smile softening even more. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to thank you properly for what you’ve done. You really saved us all.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Stop, you’re going to make me blush. I was just trying to make some money, and suddenly I’m in the middle of an epic quest. You know how it is.”

Silver hums, half-amused, and then casually drops the bomb on you like it’s the most normal thing in the world: “You’d be perfect with Father.”

Your brain short-circuits. “...Sorry, what?”

Silver, utterly oblivious to the internal crisis he’s just unleashed within you, looks at you with that serene, peaceful expression of his. “Father. You’d be perfect with him.”

The world screeches to a halt. *Perfect? With Lilia?* You stare at him, wide-eyed, your mouth hanging open in a most undignified manner. “I’m sorry, did you just—did you just suggest that I—me—should be with your father?!”

Silver nods, looking completely at peace with his assessment, like he’s just commented on the weather. “Yes. You two get along well. You make each other laugh, and he seems fond of you. And Father... well, he deserves someone who can make him smile like that.”

Your mind is racing at 100 miles per hour. “Silver. SILVER.” You clutch your head as if physically holding your brain together will stop it from spiraling into madness. “Do you have any idea what you just said?”

Silver, ever the calm and composed knight, merely tilts his head. “Was it something strange?”

“STRANGE?!” You’re flailing now, completely losing your cool. “You just casually suggested I should date your father! Who, may I remind you, is an ancient fae with enough power to casually toss me into another dimension if he wanted!”

Silver blinks, seeming to consider this for a moment. “I don’t think he’d toss you into another dimension. He’d probably just... laugh and then take you out to dinner.”

You’re having a full-blown existential crisis. Your face is bright red, your heart is doing somersaults, and you’re not sure if you want to scream, faint, or throw yourself into the nearest fountain.

Silver, meanwhile, is just sitting there, serene and utterly oblivious to the emotional chaos he’s just unleashed upon you. “Father’s a good person,” He says softly. “I think you two would be happy together.”

“I... I...” You sputter, trying to form words but utterly failing as images of Lilia’s teasing smile and playful banter run through your mind. And then you imagine the alternative: Lilia’s serious side, the one that is somehow even more terrifyingly attractive, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Oh no,” you whisper, clutching your chest. “Oh no, no, no... Silver, what have you done?”

Silver looks at you with concern now, finally noticing that you’re having what can only be described as a breakdown. “Are you alright?"

“NO!” you cry, standing up and pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’ve broken me! You’ve ruined me! I’m—Silver, your father is... He’s... and I... Oh, gods, this is too much. TOO MUCH!”

Silver watches you pace for a moment before quietly saying, “You’re thinking about it, though.”

You freeze mid-step. “I—NO! Maybe? Yes? I—Why would you say that, Silver?!”

He just smiles, a soft, knowing smile. “Because it’s true.”

You slump back down beside him, groaning loudly as you cover your face with your hands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Silver chuckles softly, resting his head back against the tree again. “I’ve heard that before.”

And as you sit there, your mind spinning with thoughts of Lilia and all the ridiculous, impossible implications Silver’s comment has brought to life, you can’t help but think that maybe—just *maybe*—he has a point.

But you’re not ready to admit that yet. Not even to yourself.

“I need a drink,” you mumble under your breath, and Silver hums in agreement.

“Father would probably help you make it,” he says, and you let out a loud groan, flopping onto the grass in dramatic defeat.

“Silver, you’re killing me.”

He just smiles that peaceful smile of his.

It’s a quiet afternoon, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the courtyard. You’re standing with Malleus and Sebek in one of the palace’s gardens, the tranquil hum of life around you contrasting with the more serious conversation that’s about to unfold. You can feel the weight of what Malleus is about to say, and your mind spins as you prepare yourself for another emotionally charged moment.

Malleus takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “For the longest time,” he begins, his voice soft and filled with an unspoken vulnerability, “I thought I would be stuck. Trapped in that cursed state forever. I had resigned myself to it, believing that it was my fate to be alone.”

You shift slightly, unsure how to respond to such raw honesty. Sebek, standing next to Malleus, is silent for once, his usual loud and defensive nature tempered by the gravity of his lord’s words.

“But then you came along,” Malleus continues, turning his glowing eyes toward you. “You broke the curse, something no one had been able to do. You gave me back my freedom, something I had lost hope of ever regaining.”

Sebek clears his throat loudly, his usual dramatic flair coming to the surface despite the tenderness of the moment. “Yes, well,” he says, voice gruff but tinged with the awkwardness of someone who isn’t quite used to expressing gratitude. “I... suppose we should be... grateful. After all, if it weren’t for you, Lord Malleus would still be... cursed, and we wouldn’t be here together as we are now.”

You blink at Sebek’s begrudging admission, feeling a small smile tug at your lips. The fact that he of all people is thanking you, even in such a roundabout way, is oddly touching.

“Wow, Sebek,” you say, voice teasing but soft. “Who knew you had it in you?”

Sebek bristles at your words, his expression a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “D-Don’t misunderstand!” he exclaims, face turning a shade redder than usual. “I’m merely stating the facts! Nothing more!”

Malleus chuckles softly at Sebek’s outburst, his usual gentle smile returning to his face. “Sebek’s gratitude, no matter how begrudging, is indeed a rarity,” he teases lightly before turning his attention back to you. “But truly, I am grateful. You’ve given me back more than just my freedom. You’ve given me back... this.”

He gestures around him, indicating the garden, the palace, the sky above. “This life, this chance to be with those I care about. And for that, I owe you a debt that I may never be able to repay.”

You shift awkwardly, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “I mean, I didn’t really set out to save anyone,” you admit, your voice light but with an edge of honesty. “I just... wanted the reward. And then maybe to go home.”

Sebek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he opens his mouth to argue, but Malleus holds up a hand, stopping him before he can launch into one of his dramatic tirades

You hesitate, glancing between Malleus and Sebek. “I didn’t think I’d get attached,” you admit quietly, your voice softening. “But I have. Somehow, I’ve found myself... caring about all of you. This weird little makeshift family.”

Sebek looks as though he’s about to protest the “weird” part, but a stern glance from Malleus keeps him quiet. You can see the begrudging acknowledgment in his eyes, though—he knows it’s true, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Malleus hums thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he speaks again. “Well,” he says casually, as if discussing something as simple as the weather, “if you’re so attached, perhaps we should make it official. Perhaps you should marry into the family."

You freeze. Did he just—?

You whip your head towards Malleus, completely flustered. “M-Marry?! What?!”

Sebek, on the other hand, looks as if someone just punched him in the face. His mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, his eyes wide with outrage. “L-Lord Malleus, what are you suggesting?!” he sputters.

Malleus blinks, as calm as ever. “I’m suggesting marriage,” he repeats, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “If they are so attached to us, it seems a reasonable next step. Perhaps they should marry Lilia?”

Your face turns a bright shade of red as your heart pounds in your chest. “Wh-What?!” you stammer. “Lilia?!”

Sebek turns even redder, his face contorting in disbelief. “Master Lilia?!”

Malleus nods sagely, completely unfazed by both of your reactions. “Yes, Lilia. He has shown great affection for them, and they would fit well within our family. Would you not agree, Sebek?”

Sebek looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s an uncomfortable silence as he realizes… he can’t argue. He knows Malleus and Lilia both care about you. He knows that you’ve proven yourself to be a good person, despite his initial distrust. His mouth twitches, the words clearly struggling to escape his throat.

“I—well—Lord Malleus,” Sebek starts, looking every bit as if he’s been defeated by sheer logic. “I… I must admit… They are a suitable companion for Master Lilia… even if the idea of them marrying… well, it is quite… outrageous.”

You feel your soul leave your body as the conversation continues. Sebek can’t quite bring himself to fully agree, yet he doesn’t outright refuse the idea either. His loyalty to his lords binds him, and his begrudging acceptance of your presence has left him caught between duty and outrage.

“I—This—” you stammer, completely overwhelmed. “I—This is insane!”

Malleus looks at you with a calm smile. “Think it over,” he says, voice gentle. “You’ve already become part of our lives. Why not make it official?”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat as you see the sincerity in his eyes. This isn’t just a flippant suggestion—it’s Malleus genuinely offering you a place in his family. But the idea of marrying Lilia? That’s… that’s a whole new level of madness.

“I—I think I need to lie down,” you mutter, pressing your hands to your temples. “This is too much.”

Malleus chuckles softly, and even Sebek seems to relax—if only a little. But as you glance between the two of them, you can’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest. Even with all the absurdity, you know one thing for sure: you’ve found a place with them, whether you intended to or not.

The cat was just sitting there. Innocently perched on the branch, fluffy and regal like a tiny, judgmental king. You don’t even know what possessed you, really. Maybe it was those huge, adorable eyes or the way its tail flicked back and forth. But somehow, someway, you ended up halfway up a tree. Climbing a tree. For a cat.

“I just wanted to pet you,” you mutter, feeling slightly ridiculous as you hug the branch for dear life. “And now I’m stuck. Great.”

The cat stares at you, completely indifferent to your plight. You sigh, glancing down at the ground, which now seems alarmingly far away. Heights were never your thing, but in the moment, with that cute little furball teasing you, logic flew right out the window. Now, you’re clinging to the tree like a cowardly kitten yourself.

“Why did I think this was a good idea?” you groan. The cat blinks at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This is all your fault!”

And then, because fate has a terrible sense of humor, you hear a voice from below. A familiar, unmistakable voice—playful, with a hint of amusement laced through it.

“Well, well, what do we have here? It appears my dear little beastie has gotten themselves stuck.”

You nearly slip off the branch as you glance down to see Lilia standing at the base of the tree, arms crossed and an infuriatingly amused grin on his face. He looks every bit the mischievous fae, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter.

“I—uh—this is—” You stammer, trying to come up with some kind of excuse, but nothing comes. You’re halfway up a tree. Because of a cat. No explanation is going to save your dignity now.

Lilia tilts his head, chuckling. “Were you planning on living up there from now on? Or should I assist you in returning to the ground?”

“Hey, don’t judge me!” you huff, cheeks burning. “The cat—look at the cat! It was really cute, okay?”

Lilia glances up at the feline, which is now licking its paw in complete disinterest. He raises an eyebrow. “Ah, yes, the cat. I see now. How could anyone resist such a noble creature?”

You groan, feeling your face get even hotter. “I—um—I might need help getting down.”

Lilia’s grin widens. “Of course, my dear. I was planning on catching you anyway.”

You freeze. “C-Catching me?”

“Mmhm. Just jump down, and I’ll catch you,” Lilia says, his tone so casual, as if catching people out of trees is just something he does every day. He spreads his arms out, waiting expectantly.

Your heart races as you eye the distance between the branch and the ground again. It’s not terribly high, but… still high enough to make you nervous. But Lilia’s standing there with that easy confidence, and the thought of staying stuck in this tree forever doesn’t exactly appeal to you either.

Taking a deep breath, you inch closer to the edge of the branch. “O-Okay. I’m going to jump.”

“Go ahead,” Lilia says, his voice soft. “I’ll catch you.”

With one last look at the disinterested cat, you finally push yourself off the branch. For a split second, there’s nothing but the rush of air—and then you feel yourself land securely in Lilia’s arms. You’re caught. Easily, gently. Like it was nothing at all.

He looks down at you, his face much closer than you anticipated. “See? I told you I would catch you.”

You’re breathless for a moment, your heart doing flips as you realize just how close you are to him. His arms are around you, holding you steady, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his clothes. He’s staring at you with that soft, amused smile, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of just how handsome he is.

“Oh no,” you whisper to yourself, “I’m swooning.”

Lilia raises an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Y-You’re really smooth,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “Like, catching me so easily and looking at me like that. It’s—it’s really unfair.”

He chuckles softly, clearly entertained by your flustered state. “Unfair, you say?”

“Yeah, like—like, you’re so effortlessly cool and charming, and I—” You freeze, suddenly realizing what you’re saying. You clamp your mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are out, and your brain has completely short-circuited.

And then, before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out of you in a panicked rush. “Okay, I like you! No, wait—I think I’m in love with you! I mean, how could I not be? You’re so amazing, and I just—Oh god, I’m confessing! I’m confessing right now, aren’t I? This is a confession. Oh no, this is terrible. I didn’t mean to—”

You feel your entire body heat up as you bury your face in your hands, completely mortified. Of all the ways you could’ve confessed your feelings to Lilia, this had to be the worst possible way. You weren’t ready! You were supposed to be calm and collected, not blurting it out after getting caught in a tree!

For a moment, there’s silence. And then, you hear the softest chuckle from Lilia. His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you just a little closer.

“You’re adorable,” he says, his voice soft and full of warmth.

You peek through your fingers, confused. “Huh?”

“I’ve known for a while that your feelings for me were more than friendly,” Lilia continues, his smile gentle. “But hearing you confess like this… it’s endearing.”

You blink, trying to process his words. “Wait—you’ve known?”

Lilia nods. “You’re not as subtle as you think, my dear.”

You groan again, hiding your face in your hands once more. “This is so embarrassing…”

Lilia laughs softly, and before you know it, he leans in and presses a light, gentle kiss to your forehead. Your heart skips a beat, and you lower your hands, looking up at him in surprise.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Lilia says, his eyes soft. “I’m honored to be the one you’ve chosen.”

Your heart flutters as his words sink in, and you realize that, despite your mortification, he’s… accepting your feelings. He’s not teasing you or brushing it off—he’s genuinely acknowledging your confession. And more than that… he’s reciprocating.

“Lilia…” you whisper, your face still burning with embarrassment, but also with a warmth that you can’t quite describe.

He leans in a little closer, his nose brushing against yours. “You don’t need to say anything more, my dear. Just know that I feel the same.”

And with that, Lilia closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your heart race even faster. All thoughts of your earlier panic melt away, replaced by the warmth of his touch and the feeling of being completely safe in his arms.

As he pulls back, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and breathless. Lilia smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement and affection.

“So,” he says, his voice teasing, “was that worth climbing a tree for?”

You blink, still dazed from the kiss. “I… I think so.”

Lilia laughs softly, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the ground. “Next time, though, perhaps we’ll find a more dignified setting for your confessions, hmm?”

You groan, covering your face again as you mutter, “Please don’t remind me…”

But despite your embarrassment, you can’t help the small, giddy smile that creeps onto your face as you realize that, somehow, things turned out perfectly anyway.

You sit with Lilia on a bench beneath the shade of a massive oak tree, the same one he caught you from, nerves simmering beneath your calm exterior. He’s as composed as ever, leaning back against the tree with a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

Across from you sit Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, all three watching you with varying degrees of curiosity—Malleus with calm interest, Silver with that sleepy, gentle acceptance, and Sebek with what you’re sure is the beginning of a tirade bubbling just beneath the surface.

“We have some news,” Lilia says, breaking the silence with his usual playful tone. His hand slips into yours, squeezing lightly. “About us.”

Malleus’s eyes light up with interest, his draconic gaze honing in on the subtle intertwining of your hands with Lilia’s. “News?” he repeats, leaning forward slightly. “What sort of news?”

You exchange a glance with Lilia, and he gives you a nod, as if to say go on, it’s safe. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and blurt out, “We’re together. Like, romantically.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Malleus’s eyes widen, his entire face brightening with delight. “Truly?” he asks, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his face. “That is wonderful news! You will be joining the family then?”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by how happy he is. “Uh, well—eventually, I guess. We haven’t exactly planned a wedding yet…”

“But when we do,” Lilia interjects smoothly, eyes glinting with amusement, “you will be the first to receive an invitation, Malleus.”

Malleus beams, the delight practically radiating off him like sunlight. “I would expect no less. To witness your union—ah, it will be a grand day.”

Meanwhile, Silver gives you both a small, approving nod. His expression is calm, though there’s a softness in his eyes that shows he’s happy for you. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice as gentle as ever. “Father deserves someone who makes him happy. And you… you seem to do that.”

Your heart warms at the approval from Silver. “Thanks, Silver,” you say, offering him a smile in return.

And then there’s Sebek.

For a moment, he just stares at you and Lilia, his mouth working as if he’s trying to form words. You brace yourself for the inevitable protest, expecting him to shout something about how inappropriate it is, or how you could never be good enough for Lilia, or—

“You…” Sebek finally speaks, though his tone is less outraged than you anticipated. He scowls, but there’s an undeniable hint of reluctant acceptance in his eyes. “You’re together, then?”

Lilia nods, his smile never wavering. “Indeed, Sebek.”

Sebek inhales deeply, closing his eyes as if preparing for some kind of inner battle. You can almost hear him wrestling with his instincts, wanting to object but also unable to deny the truth of the situation. After a long pause, he finally exhales and mutters, “Well… I suppose… if it makes Master Lilia happy, then…”

You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief when Sebek opens his eyes again, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “But that does not mean you should grow complacent! Just because Master Lilia has chosen you does not mean you are exempt from proving yourself worthy!”

Lilia laughs softly at Sebek’s stubbornness, and you can’t help but grin. “Of course, Sebek,” you say, teasing him lightly. “I’ll do my best to live up to your high standards.”

Sebek huffs, crossing his arms. “See that you do.”

Despite his bluster, you can tell he’s not truly upset. There’s a begrudging acceptance in his stance, the same way someone might finally accept that their favorite hero isn’t perfect, but still worthy of respect. Sebek might not be able to fully wrap his head around the idea of you and Lilia being together, but deep down, you can tell he doesn’t disapprove. Not really.

Malleus, meanwhile, is still beaming. “I look forward to your wedding,” he says, sounding genuinely excited. “It will be a grand celebration. And I will be the first to celebrate your union.”

You laugh, finally feeling the tension melt away. “You’ll be the first to get an invitation, don’t worry.”

Lilia squeezes your hand again, his eyes warm as he looks at you. “Indeed,” he says softly, “and I think it will be a lovely celebration.”

As you sit there, surrounded by Lilia’s peculiar little family, you can’t help but feel a swell of emotion. For all their eccentricities—Malleus’s dragon-like mannerisms, Silver’s sleepy but sincere approval, and Sebek’s stubborn loyalty—you’ve somehow found yourself among people who care. Who, in their own ways, are happy to see you and Lilia together.

And as you glance at Lilia, who’s still watching you with that fond, amused expression, you realize something important: this makeshift family of fae and knights… they’ve accepted you.

Flaws and all.

The living room felt a little too tense for your taste today. You were sprawled out on a chair, arms crossed, listening to the absurd conversation that seemed to have spiraled out of control.

Malleus, sitting at the head of the table, had the "serious prince" expression that made you roll your eyes every time you saw it. Lilia was perched on the back of his chair, his legs dangling, thoroughly amused by the current predicament. Sebek stood in his usual soldier-like stance, ready to protect everyone from... squirrels, apparently. And Silver was doing his best to stay upright while leaning on a wall. He was losing that battle.

“It’s time to discuss the prophecy” Malleus said, his voice carrying an ominous weight you found ridiculous. “The Squirrel Plague will bring misfortune. Entire kingdoms will fall to their tiny paws.”

You blinked. “We’re seriously talking about squirrels?”

Lilia nodded with an overly grave face. “Indeed, my dear. Squirrels are resourceful creatures. Vicious even, if the stories are true.”

Sebek puffed up his chest, eyes blazing with his trademark fervor. “MY LORD, IF THOSE RODENTS BELIEVE THEY CAN THREATEN YOU—"

You leaned forward, waving your hand dismissively. “Alright, alright, let's not hype up the squirrels too much, okay? This whole situation is ridiculous.”

Silver, who had just about managed to pry his eyes open, muttered, “It’s not just the squirrels. I heard some people talking about... uh, the Saint being accused of spying or something.”

The room fell into silence for a second, everyone digesting that little bombshell.

Lilia’s grin widened as if the idea of spies delighted him. “Spies, you say? This is getting quite intriguing.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, no thanks. Squirrels are bad enough, but spies? I’m not dealing with this.”

Malleus turned towards you, a slight frown on his lips. “I assumed you wished to stay here. You haven’t mentioned wanting to leave before.”

You sighed, shrugging. “I mean, I don't have any attachments to this place. I stayed because you guys were here. But right now, let's bounce. Immediately. The squirrels can have this place.”

Silver, rubbing his eyes, nodded. “They're right. It’s a lot of hassle, and honestly, the squirrels are starting to weird me out. I saw one trying to chew through the wall this morning.”

Sebek turned to Silver with his mouth agape. “A SQUIRREL DARED TO ATTACK OUR DOMAIN?!”

Lilia chuckled, nodding. “They’re getting bolder, indeed. I even had one throw an acorn at me this morning. It was a declaration of war, I tell you.”

You waved your hands at them. “Guys, seriously. I don’t care if we’re at war with the squirrels. I just don’t want to be here. Briar Valley sounds much nicer, doesn’t it? No plagues, no spy accusations, no rabid rodents.”

Malleus blinked at you, then slowly smiled. “If you wish to leave, then there’s no reason for us to stay. I thought perhaps you'd not want to leave the place you grew up in, that you would be attached.”

“Attached?” You gestured dramatically at the window, where you swore you could see a squirrel watching with beady little eyes. “Nope. I’m only attached to you four, and I’m not risking my life for some acorn-flinging rodents.”

Silver yawned, already giving in. “I say we go. Less hassle, more sleep.”

Lilia gave a theatrical sigh leaning on Malleus. “Well, I suppose the adventure ends here. Back to Briar Valley it is! And I’ll be sure to bring along some acorns... perhaps we can keep the spirit of battle alive.”

Sebek, his voice still full of misplaced enthusiasm, nodded fiercely. “IF MY LORD DECIDES TO RETURN, THEN I SHALL ENSURE OUR JOURNEY IS WITHOUT PERIL! THE SQUIRRELS SHALL NOT—”

You interrupted with a grin. “Yes, yes, Sebek. You’ll protect us from the squirrels. Good job.”

Lilia hopped off Malleus’s chair, already halfway to the door. “I’ll go prepare the portal. Who knows, maybe we can get there in time for the fireflies.”

You got up too, stretching and giving one last look at the living room. “I think I’ve had enough of prophecies, plagues, and espionage.”

Lilia grins "Maybe we could have our wedding in Briar Valley". Malleus, now entirely on board, nodded with regal finality. “Then we shall return to Briar Valley. I trust the squirrels will not miss us.”

Lilia snickered, and you felt him squeeze your shoulder. “Perhaps we should bring a souvenir,” he mused. “A squirrel, perhaps, as a reminder of this peculiar little chapter of our lives.”

You shook your head, laughing. “I think I’d rather forget it altogether.”

With that, you and your four favorite Briar Valley residents left—leaving behind the squirrels, the spies, and every bit of drama that had nothing to do with you. Peace, it turned out, was just a portal away.

With that, the group made their decision—no heroic stand against the prophecy, no attempts to sort out spy dramas. Just a swift, sensible retreat to where things were far less complicated. And honestly? That suited you just fine.

Alright! I liked writing this a lot, It's not as chaotic as my other isekai ones but I like how it turned out!

Also if the formatting is off, I'm so sorry but I fell spectacularly on my ass while ice-skating and can't sit long enough to edit on my laptop.

Also quick poll for the next trash novel one, I'll definitely finish all of them, this is just for which one should I post first. They're all almost done.

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

[devdozes]

♥ Who's the cute doctor with a white jacket and a cute accent?

Phainon is a vigilante who kills heroes :0 and reader is a doctor who owns a clinic

The street was empty when you stepped out of your small clinic, stretching your arms with a yawn. The neon glow of streetlights flickered against the pavement, a steady hum of crickets filling the air. It was well past midnight, your usual closing time. The last patient had left hours ago, leaving you with only the scent of antiseptic and the ever-present exhaustion clinging to your bones.

And that was when you saw him.

Slumped against the alley wall right beside your clinic’s entrance, a man lay sprawled out, one leg bent awkwardly, his clothes torn and stained with blood. His messy silver hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and from the way his chest heaved unevenly, he was in bad shape.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, already moving toward him. “Don’t tell me I’ve got another late-night idiot with a hero complex.”

Kneeling beside him, you gently prodded his shoulder. “Hey. Still breathing?”

A soft, pitiful whine escaped him, followed by a lazy blink. Then, like a puppy realizing it had finally been noticed, the man perked up almost instantly. Despite his obviously battered state, he offered you the most ridiculous, lopsided grin you had ever seen.

“Angel,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “Have I…died?”

You stared at him. He blinked up at you, expectant.

“…No, but you might if you keep bleeding all over my sidewalk.”

His grin widened, eyes gleaming under the dim light. “Then I must be in heaven, because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a short, exasperated sigh. “Great. You’re one of those types.”

Deciding that talking would get you nowhere, you looped his arm around your shoulders and, with a great deal of effort, hauled him to his feet. He was heavier than he looked, all lean muscle beneath the torn layers of his dark hoodie.

“C’mon, Casanova, let’s get you patched up.” ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The clinic was quiet save for the rustling of medical supplies and the occasional hiss of pain from your unexpected patient. He sat on the examination table, swinging his legs slightly like a child as you cleaned a particularly nasty gash on his forearm. His hoodie had been discarded, leaving him in a black tank top that did nothing to hide the bruises blooming across his torso.

“You got into quite the fight, huh?” you mused, applying a fresh bandage.

He hummed, tilting his head. “You could say that.”

“You don’t look like the street brawling type,” you continued, noting the way his wounds were oddly precise—like someone had been targeting specific areas to incapacitate rather than kill. “Pissed off the wrong guy?”

“Something like that,” he said, watching you with an intensity that sent a small shiver down your spine. Then, without warning, he reached out and poked your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re all serious, y’know?”

You smacked his hand away. “I will sedate you.”

He laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. It was such a stark contrast to his earlier state that you had to pause. This guy…was weird. But you’d dealt with weirder.

“Alright, mystery man,” you said, stepping back. “You’re patched up, but you should probably rest before you start running around and getting into more trouble.”

His expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flashing through his eyes. Then, just as quickly, he was beaming again. “So you do care about me, doc.”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm a doctor; if I don't care, I will lose my license.”

Little did you know, you had just invited the most dangerous, yet oddly devoted, presence into your life. And he had no plans of leaving any time soon.

It started with small things.

The next evening, Phainon showed up at your clinic’s doorstep, miraculously uninjured this time, holding a single flower in his hand. “For my angel,” he declared dramatically, offering it to you with a grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “You realize this is a medical clinic, not a flower shop, right?”

He pouted. Actually pouted. “Can’t I just appreciate my favorite person in the world?”

You huffed but took the flower, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

The visits didn’t stop. Each day, he came bearing small gifts—some fresh fruit, a book he claimed “reminded him of you,” even a plushie one time. You didn’t know where he got them, and you didn’t ask. He never overstayed his welcome, just long enough to chat, flash you that infuriatingly charming grin, and then disappear into the night.

There were…odd moments, though. Bruises appearing overnight. The way he sometimes winced when he thought you weren’t looking. You questioned him once, but he only ruffled your hair and said, “I’m just clumsy.”

You didn’t buy it. But you let it go. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It was nearly 3 AM when you heard the familiar knock at your clinic door. You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Phainon, if you brought me another bouquet, I swear—”

The door swung open, revealing a very unimpressed Phainon holding a Tupperware container. “Stop eating instant noodles 24/7,” he deadpanned, marching straight to your desk.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I saw the trash,” he accused. “You are a doctor, and yet you treat your body like a college student cramming for finals.”

You gaped at him as he shoved the container into your hands. “I—You—Did you make this?”

He crossed his arms, looking almost smug. “Of course. You deserve real food.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, unexpected but not unwelcome. You sighed, popping the lid open to reveal a neatly prepared meal. “...Fine. But if this kills me, I’m haunting you.”

Phainon beamed. “Deal.”

And so, your strange dynamic continued—one clueless doctor, one overly devoted, not-so-secret vigilante, and an ever-growing pile of suspiciously extravagant gifts you pretended not to question.

But as the days passed, you couldn’t ignore it anymore—the way his grip lingered when he handed you something, how he always seemed to know when you were exhausted, the fleeting shadows in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

Something about Phainon was undeniably dangerous. And yet, when he smiled at you like you were his whole world, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The city breathed at night. It wasn’t the kind of breath that brought life—it was shallow, ragged, laced with rot. Beneath the neon glow of the skyline, the filth that called themselves "heroes" thrived, hiding behind capes and empty words.

Phainon had no patience for them.

He crouched on the rooftop of an abandoned parking structure, the cool wind ruffling his platinum hair. Below, the target moved, blissfully unaware of the predator watching from above.

Adrian Vaughn.

A hero by title. A parasite by nature. His record was pristine in the public eye—dozens of successful operations, multiple civilians "rescued," a shining beacon of hope for the people. But beneath that fabricated veneer, Vaughn was filth. Human trafficking, drug smuggling, bribery. He sold out the very people he was meant to protect, sending them into the hands of the highest bidder.

Phainon had been tracking him for weeks, studying his routines, his weaknesses. Tonight, he would erase his name from existence.

Vaughn turned into an alley, accompanied by two bodyguards dressed in sleek tactical gear. They weren’t ordinary thugs; they moved with the precision of trained killers. But Phainon wasn’t concerned.

He relished the challenge.

As Vaughn leaned against the brick wall, pulling out a cigar, Phainon dropped from the rooftop in complete silence.

The first man didn’t even have time to react. A dagger plunged into his throat, severing vocal cords before he could scream. Blood sprayed across the wall as Phainon twisted the blade, then yanked it free. The second guard barely managed to spin around, gun raised—

Too slow.

Phainon sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and snapped it with a sickening crack. The gun clattered to the ground. Before the guard could register the pain, Phainon drove his knee into the man’s ribs, sending him crumpling. A swift strike to the temple, and the body hit the floor with a thud.

Vaughn stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror. “What the f—”

Phainon was on him before he could finish.

A brutal punch to the gut sent Vaughn reeling. He gasped, dropping his cigar, but Phainon didn’t let up. He grabbed the so-called hero by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall.

"Scared, ‘hero’?" Phainon murmured, voice dripping with mockery. His usual cheerful demeanor was nowhere to be found—only cold amusement remained.

Vaughn wheezed. "W-Wait—"

Phainon drove his fist into the man’s ribs, feeling something crack. Vaughn let out a choked sound of pain.

"Did your victims get to beg?" Phainon asked, tilting his head. "Did you let them plead before you sold them like cattle?"

Vaughn trembled. "I—I can pay you! Triple whatever you’re getting! Just—"

The words died in his throat as Phainon unsheathed a second dagger, pressing it lightly against Vaughn’s cheek. A thin line of blood beaded where the blade kissed skin.

"Oh, Vaughn," Phainon sighed theatrically. "You really think this is about money?"

Vaughn whimpered.

Phainon’s grip tightened. His blade trailed down Vaughn’s neck, slow, deliberate. He could feel the man’s pulse hammering beneath his skin.

"You pretend to be a savior," Phainon whispered, his breath warm against Vaughn’s ear. "But you’re just another parasite, feeding off the innocent."

With a flick of his wrist, he drove the dagger into Vaughn’s shoulder.

A scream tore from the so-called hero’s lips, echoing through the alley.

"Shh, shh," Phainon cooed, twisting the blade. "Screaming won’t help you. No one’s coming."

Vaughn gasped, clawing at Phainon’s wrist, but the grip was unyielding.

"Please—!"

Phainon’s eyes darkened.

He yanked the blade free and, in one swift motion, slashed downward. Vaughn’s body convulsed before sagging against the wall. His eyes, once filled with arrogance, were now lifeless.

A pool of blood spread beneath him.

Phainon exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

Another name erased. Another stain cleansed.

Wiping the blood off his blade, he stepped over the corpses, retrieving the gun one of the bodyguards had dropped. He turned it over in his hands before smirking. A hero’s own weapon, used to kill his accomplices. The police would find the bodies in the morning and spin whatever story they wanted.

He didn’t care.

All that mattered was that Vaughn wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

The night welcomed him as he vanished into the darkness.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

You sat on the worn-out couch of your clinic, a half-eaten pancake held loosely in your hands. The morning air was still crisp, the warmth of your blanket cocooning you, yet something about Phainon felt…off.

He was smiling—he always was—but there was something different about it. A flicker of exhaustion hidden behind his golden eyes, the way his fingers drummed against his knee, restless.

Something had happened.

You swallowed a bite of your food, tilting your head. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

Phainon blinked, then grinned, feigning innocence. “What? Me? Angel, I am the very picture of health.”

You narrowed your eyes, setting your plate down. “Phainon.”

He flinched. You rarely used his name like that, not unless you were serious.

"Okay, okay, maybe I took a tiny night stroll," he admitted, waving a hand dismissively. "But look! I still had time to make you breakfast. Aren't I the best?"

You huffed, standing up and walking over to him. He was still sprawled lazily on your couch, but you could see it now—the tension in his shoulders, the subtle twitch in his fingers, as if his body hadn't fully come down from something.

You reached out, brushing your fingers against his wrist. "You're tense."

For the first time since walking in, he hesitated.

You weren’t stupid. Phainon was good at hiding things, slipping past questions with honeyed words and cheeky grins. But now, up close, you could see the faint traces of red beneath his nails, the way his hoodie sleeves were rolled just enough to hide fresh bruises blooming along his skin.

Blood that wasn’t his.

The realization hit like a whisper of cold air.

"You’re hurt."

Phainon blinked. Then he smiled—small this time, softer, a little weary. "Not really," he murmured. "I’ve had worse."

You sighed, grabbing his wrist more firmly now. "Sit up."

He raised a brow. "Bossy today, aren't we?"

You shot him a look, and with a chuckle, he obeyed, straightening as you moved to inspect him properly.

Your hands were gentle, fingers tracing over his knuckles, noting the split skin. A fresh bruise painted the side of his hand, likely from impact. His sleeves had smudges of something darker—wiped-off blood.

You didn’t ask who it belonged to. You didn’t think you wanted to know.

Instead, you focused on tending to him, pulling out your medical kit. "You always come to me like this," you muttered. "How many times do I have to patch you up before you stop throwing yourself into trouble?"

Phainon leaned back against the couch, watching you with a lopsided smirk. "Mm… I dunno. How many times are you willing to fix me up?"

You paused, fingers hovering over his bruised skin. He always did this—teased, danced around the weight of his actions. And yet, the way he looked at you now, cerulean eyes searching, waiting—

It made your heart stutter.

"You're an idiot," you murmured, dipping a cloth into antiseptic before pressing it against his hand.

Phainon winced slightly but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch.

"Maybe," he hummed, voice lower now, almost thoughtful. "But I'm your idiot, aren't I?"

Your breath hitched.

The room was quiet now, save for the soft rustling of bandages as you wrapped his hand. He was watching you too closely, his usual playful mask slipping into something else—something heavier.

You could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his breathing had slowed. His free hand—uninjured, warm—lifted slightly, brushing against your wrist.

A silent question.

You swallowed.

"...You are," you admitted, barely above a whisper.

And that was all it took.

Phainon grinned, lazy and triumphant, before tugging you forward by the wrist. You barely had time to react before you found yourself half in his lap, your knees pressing against the couch cushions, his warmth seeping into your skin.

"Phainon—"

"Shhh," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. His voice was softer now, playful but laced with something deeper. "Just let me have this, angel."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You could feel his breath against your lips, the lingering scent of blood and something sweeter—cinnamon, from the breakfast he'd brought.

"You’re ridiculous," you mumbled, feeling heat creep up your neck.

Phainon chuckled, fingers brushing against your cheek. "And yet, you’re still here."

You wanted to argue, to shove him away and scold him for always making your heart race like this—but you didn't. Instead, you let yourself sink into the warmth of him, just for a moment.

The air smelled like rust and rain. Blood pooled into the cracks of the pavement, seeping into the earth like ink on paper. Phainon flicked his blade once, crimson droplets splattering against the nearby wall, before slipping it back into its holster.

The "hero" at his feet gurgled one last, pitiful sound before falling silent.

Pathetic.

Phainon sighed, running a gloved hand through his pristine white hair, pushing back strands that had fallen loose from his usual messy style. His blue eyes gleamed under the dim glow of a streetlamp, their usual mischievous shine dulled by the weight of his work.

"You done being dramatic, or should I start playing sad violin music?"

A voice, flat and unimpressed, cut through the night air.

Phainon turned his head, spotting a familiar figure standing against the alley wall—arms crossed, eyes narrowed, looking as grumpy as ever. Mydei.

Phainon grinned. "Aw, come on, don’t be like that, Mydei. You’re making it sound like I don’t do good work."

Mydei sighed, pushing off the wall with an irritated huff. His white uniform, pristine even in the grimy alley, barely had a speck of blood on it—contrasting Phainon’s more…chaotic approach. His ash-blonde hair with red tips was in a loose ponytail, with a braid out of place from his left side, and his sharp golden eyes burned with constant disapproval.

“I swear, working with you is an exercise in patience,” Mydei muttered, stepping over the corpse with little care. “You take too long.”

Phainon shrugged, stretching his arms above his head lazily. “Art takes time, Mydei. You can’t rush greatness.”

Mydei gave him a look. “We’re not painting a fucking masterpiece. We’re eliminating scum.”

“Eh, same thing.”

Another sigh. Mydei pinched the bridge of his nose like he was fighting off a migraine. “Just tell me it’s done so I can leave.”

“It’s done,” Phainon confirmed, rocking back on his heels. “You know, I don't get why you're always in such a rush. You should take time to appreciate the little things in life. Smell the roses, bask in the moonlight, think about the people you love—”

Mydei groaned. “Oh my god, do not start.”

Too late.

Phainon’s golden eyes softened, and a ridiculous, lovesick grin spread across his face. “Speaking of which, you won’t believe how adorable my angel looked this morning.” "Phainon shut up."

The clinic smelled like antiseptic and exhaustion. It was late—too late for anyone to still be working, and yet, there you were, hunched over a stack of medical files, barely blinking as you scribbled down notes.

Phainon leaned against the doorframe, watching with mild amusement and growing concern. He had come to visit—not because he was injured (for once), but because, well… he missed you. Not that he’d ever say it outright.

But the moment he stepped inside, he noticed something off.

Your movements were sluggish, and your usual sharp focus seemed dulled by exhaustion. There were dark circles under your eyes, your lips slightly chapped, and your uniform was wrinkled—like you hadn’t had a proper break in days.

Phainon frowned.

“Hey, Angel—”

“Don’t call me that,” you muttered, barely looking up from your work.

“Alright, alright. [Name].” His tone softened slightly. “How long have you been at this?”

You hummed distractedly, flipping a page. “Since morning.”

Phainon’s brow twitched. “…It’s midnight.”

“Mm.”

Oh, hell no.

Before he could argue, you sniffled slightly. Then—

A single drop of red hit the page in front of you.

Phainon stiffened. His cerulean blue eyes widened slightly as he watched another drop fall.

You blinked. Touched your nose. Oh. Blood.

“Ah…” you mumbled, finally acknowledging your own state. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Phainon echoed incredulously.

You waved him off, already reaching for a tissue. “It’s fine. I just need to—”

“Sit. Down.”

Your hands froze.

When you finally looked up, Phainon was giving you a look. His usual easygoing grin was gone, replaced with something serious. It wasn’t often you saw him like this—jaw tight, eyes sharp, expression unreadable.

"Phai, I still have—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “You’re overworking yourself to the point of bleeding, [Name]. That’s not normal.”

You scoffed. “It’s just a nosebleed.”

“It’s not just a nosebleed when you’ve been running on fumes for who knows how long,” he shot back. “Have you even eaten today?”

You didn’t answer. That was answer enough.

Phainon sighed, dragging a hand through his messy white hair. “Unbelievable.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving. You barely had time to react before he grabbed the chair you were sitting in and spun it around so you were facing him. Then, to your surprise, he crouched down in front of you, resting his arms on his knees as he looked up at you with an unreadable expression.

The change in height was jarring. He was always towering over you at 6’2, but now? Now he looked genuinely concerned.

“Hey,” his voice softened. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, but you met his gaze.

“…When’s the last time you slept properly?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You swallowed. “Um.”

“That’s what I thought.” He clicked his tongue. “Angel—”

You shot him a weak glare.

“Fine, fine. [Name].” He sighed again, softer this time. “You can’t keep this up.”

You glanced at the files on your desk. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice was gentle, but firm. “The world isn’t gonna end if you take a break.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, Phainon reached out and—

Tapped your forehead.

You blinked in surprise.

“Rest,” he murmured, his tone carrying an uncharacteristic warmth. “For me?”

For a moment, you just… stared at him.

The cerulean blue of his eyes was unusually soft, like the glow of the sky just before dawn. His messy white hair framed his face, strands falling over his forehead, but he made no move to fix it. He was just there, crouched in front of you, waiting.

You sighed. “…Fine.”

A slow, satisfied grin stretched across Phainon’s face. “Good.”

Then, to your utter horror, he stood up—grabbed you by the shoulders—and physically dragged you out of your chair.

“Phai—! What are you—”

“Bed. Now.”

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he said cheerfully, leading you toward the break room. “I’m amazing.”

You groaned. “You’re annoying.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Shut up.”

He only laughed.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

For the first time that night, the clinic was quiet.

The usual hum of your overworked mind had finally been silenced—replaced by the soft, even breaths of sleep. Phainon leaned against the doorway of the break room, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You had knocked out almost immediately after your head hit the pillow. Figures. Your body had probably been screaming for rest, and yet, you'd kept going until you'd collapsed.

He sighed through his nose, running a hand through his messy white hair.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words.

The dim clinic lights cast soft shadows over your face, highlighting the exhaustion that had settled deep into your features. He had never seen you like this before—not just tired, but completely worn down. It made something tighten in his chest.

You always worked too damn hard. Too much responsibility. Too much weight on your shoulders.

Phainon hated it.

His cerulean blue eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally moved. Quietly, he stepped forward, pulling the blanket over your shoulders. You barely stirred, only sighing in your sleep as you curled further into the warmth.

He huffed a quiet laugh, crouching down beside you.

"You really do too much, y'know," he murmured, mostly to himself. "What would you do without me, huh?"

Silence.

A small smile ghosted over his lips.

His gloved fingers brushed against a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You always looked so sharp, so focused—yet here, like this, you looked… peaceful.

He let out another sigh, softer this time.

“…Rest, Angel,” he murmured.

And for once, you did.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the silence.

No beeping machines, no shuffling patients, no ringing phone. Just the soft, comforting quiet of a world you weren’t used to.

Then, the second thing hit you.

You felt… rested.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Your eyes shot open, and the moment you glanced at the clock, your stomach dropped.

2:07 PM.

You had been asleep for over thirteen hours.

Panic surged through you, and you shot up so fast that the blanket slipped off your shoulders. "Oh, shit—I—"

"You’re finally up, Angel."

Your head whipped toward the source of the voice.

Phainon leaned lazily against the doorframe, his usual easygoing smile in place. He looked completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just let you sleep through half the day.

"Thirteen hours?!" you nearly shrieked, throwing the blanket off yourself. "Why the hell didn’t you wake me up? I have patients—I have work—"

"You don’t," Phainon said smoothly, pushing off the doorframe and strolling toward you. "I told the nurse to cancel all your appointments for the day."

You froze.

"You what?"

Phainon only grinned, placing his hands on his hips like he’d done something heroic. "Today, you’re gonna rest and take care of yourself."

Your brain short-circuited. "Phai, you canceled my entire schedule?! Do you know how many—"

"Yup. And I’d do it again." He patted your head before you could dodge, his cerulean eyes glinting mischievously. "You're lucky I didn’t call a damn intervention."

You smacked his hand away with a scowl. "You can’t just decide that for me!"

"Yeah?" He arched a brow. "Then tell me, oh mighty doctor—when’s the last time you actually got a full night’s sleep?"

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

He had a point.

You hated that he had a point.

"...Exactly." Phainon ruffled your hair again, this time dodging your half-hearted attempt to swat him. "Now, c’mon. I made breakfast."

You blinked.

Your eyes trailed past him, toward the break room, and sure enough, you smelled it—the unmistakable scent of eggs, toast, and something slightly sweet.

Your stomach betrayed you with a low grumble.

Phainon’s grin widened.

"...Fine," you muttered, crossing your arms. "But only because I’m starving."

"Uh-huh," he teased, motioning for you to follow. "C’mon, Angel, let me spoil you for once."

You rolled your eyes, but despite yourself, warmth curled in your chest. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

After reluctantly agreeing to Phainon’s so-called "rest day," you made your way to the bathroom, still half-convinced this was some elaborate prank.

But the moment you stepped into the warm shower, feeling the tension in your muscles slowly melt away, you realized just how much you needed this.

For once, you weren’t rushing.

No patients waiting outside. No phone buzzing with emergency calls. No back-to-back shifts looming over your head.

Just peace.

You took your time—longer than usual—letting the hot water soothe your overworked body. Once you finally emerged, refreshed and slightly dazed, you dried your hair, slipped into comfortable clothes, and stepped out into the main clinic space.

And the first thing you saw was him.

Phainon sat on the couch, casually twirling something between his fingers. The moment his cerulean blue eyes landed on you, his entire face lit up.

Like a puppy seeing its favorite person.

"You look cute all cozy," he teased, tilting his head.

You scoffed, but before you could throw back a retort, he suddenly reached for your hand.

You blinked as he placed something cold and sleek against your palm.

A… black credit card?

You stared down at it, then back at him. "Uh, Phai? What the hell is this?"

His smile only grew. "Your new best friend."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why do you have a black credit card with no limit? And why are you giving it to me?"

He leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Because," he drawled, tapping the card in your hand, "I want you to spoil yourself."

You deadpanned. "Phai."

"Angel."

"Phainon."

"[Name]."

You groaned. "This is insane! I can’t just—"

"Sure, you can," he interrupted smoothly, flashing you a grin. "Buy whatever you want. Clothes, skincare, a new bed, hell—buy a whole damn island if it makes you happy."

"Why are you like this?" you muttered, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Because you deserve it," he said, voice softer this time. No teasing, no smugness—just pure, genuine sincerity. "You work your ass off for everyone else. So, let me take care of you for once, yeah?"

You bit your lip, suddenly unsure how to respond.

The idea of spending his money—let alone this much money—felt ridiculous. But the way he looked at you, so effortlessly warm and unwavering in his care, made your chest tighten.

"...I’ll think about it," you muttered, shoving the card into your pocket.

Phainon beamed. "That’s my girl."

You flushed. "Phai—"

"Shhh." He grinned, standing up and ruffling your hair. "Now, go pick something. Or better yet, let’s go out, and I’ll help you spend it."

You were lounging on the couch, finally allowing yourself a moment of rest, when you heard a loud thud.

Your head snapped up just in time to see Phainon stumble back, one hand clutching his forehead after walking straight into the wall.

For a second, there was silence. Then—

"Ow."

Your stomach dropped. "Phai?!"

Without thinking, you shot up from your seat and rushed to him. His cerulean eyes blinked in mild confusion as you cupped his face, tilting it down so you could examine his forehead.

"Let me see," you mumbled, scanning for any signs of bruising. "God, you’re such an idiot. How did you even—"

Before you could finish, Phainon suddenly turned his head—

And pressed a soft kiss against the inside of your palm.

You froze.

The warmth of his lips lingered against your skin, his gaze locked onto yours, impossibly fond and teasing all at once.

"Don’t worry, Angel," he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. "You won’t lose me that easily."

Your breath hitched, heart thudding a little too fast. "Phai—"

But before anything else could happen—

The door slammed open.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You jolted in shock as a familiar figure stormed inside.

Dressed in his usual crisp uniform, Mydei stood at the entrance, his golden eyes immediately narrowing at the scene before him. His already grumpy expression twisted into something even darker the moment he spotted you—cupping Phainon’s face—while Phainon was holding your wrist way too tenderly.

For a long, tense moment, there was silence.

Then—

"BRO GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

Your brain short-circuited. "…What?"

Phainon, to your absolute horror, simply turned to him with a shit-eating grin. "Ohhh, so now you decide to show up?"

"PHAINON, I SWEAR TO GOD—"

"Wait, wait, wait," you cut in, still trying to process literally everything. You looked between the two men—one your unbearably clingy not-so-secret admirer, the other your grumpy older brother who should not be here. "What do you mean ‘sister’?!"

"What do you mean ‘now you show up’?!"

Mydei scowled, ignoring your question entirely. "I knew something was up. The way you’ve been talking about some ‘angel’ non-stop—"

"Ohhh," Phainon mused, leaning back slightly. "Now it all makes sense."

You turned to him, utterly bewildered. "What makes sense?!"

He simply beamed at you, still completely unbothered. "Angel, did I forget to mention?* Your brother and I are coworkers.*"

You blinked. Then, slowly—painfully—you turned to Mydei. "You what?"

Your brother pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about "just one damn night without problems." Then, exhaling sharply, he shot Phainon a glare that could’ve killed a man on the spot.

"This is exactly why I told you not to get involved," Mydei growled. "But nooo, you just had to imprint on my little sister like a lost puppy—"

Phainon grinned. "You call it imprinting. I call it fate."

"Phainon, I swear—"

"Everyone shut up!" you finally snapped, massaging your temples. "Someone start explaining before I actually lose my mind."

Mydei glared at Phainon like he was this close to throwing him out the window. "You first, dumbass."

Phainon chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Where do I even start? The part where we’ve been hunting down corrupt heroes together? Or the part where I fell for your sister the moment she patched me up?"

Mydei’s eye twitched. "Get the fuck out."

"No can do, big bro," Phainon said, grinning. "I live for danger, and your sister happens to be my favorite one."

Mydei clenched his fists. "I am so going to kill you."

Meanwhile, you just stood there, completely overwhelmed.

Your brother was a secret vigilante.

Phainon was his partner in crime.

And apparently, Mydei had no idea that Phainon had been sneaking into your life like a love-struck idiot this entire time.

You let out a slow, suffering sigh. "I need another bath."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ Its been 47 fucking minutes and those two gigantic men are STILL arguing

You inhaled sharply through your nose, gripping the bridge of your nose as both Phainon and Mydei continued their bickering like two overgrown children.

"I swear to god," Mydei seethed, jabbing a finger at Phainon. "If you so much as breathe near my sister again—"

"Too late," Phainon interrupted smoothly, looking completely unbothered. "I’ve already done much more than breathing. Did you know her hands are so soft—"

"PHAINON, I WILL MURDER YOU."

"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!"

Your voice boomed through the room, silencing both men immediately.

They both snapped their heads toward you, wide-eyed, as you glared at them with the force of someone who had been through way too much in one day.

"I don’t care who kills who," you hissed. "I don’t care who works with who, and I especially don’t care about your dumb territorial bullshit. Both of you, just—SHUT UP."

A thick, heavy silence filled the air.

Then, very slowly—

Phainon’s expression crumbled into the most heart-wrenchingly sad look you had ever seen.

His cerulean eyes went wide with devastation. His lips wobbled slightly. His shoulders slumped. His entire demeanor changed into that of an abandoned puppy who had just been kicked out into the rain.

And then—he sank onto the floor.

"...Okay," he mumbled, looking utterly defeated.

You blinked. "Phai, what are you doing—"

Before you could finish, Mydei also stiffened.

Your brother—grumpy, terrifying, merciless vigilante Mydei—visibly swallowed, his golden eyes darting between you and Phainon. Then, hesitantly, with all the grace of a cat who didn’t want to admit guilt—he sat down beside Phainon.

"...Sorry," he grumbled.

You stared at them.

One sad, abandoned puppy.

One guilty, grumpy cat.

Sitting on your floor.

Like two children who had just been scolded by their mom.

You let out the biggest sigh of your life and rubbed your temples. "You both have got to be kidding me."

Phainon, still looking like he had been emotionally devastated, peeked up at you through messy white bangs. "Angel… are you still mad at me?"

You exhaled sharply. "No."

Phainon immediately perked up, tail-wagging energy returning. "Okay, cool. So I can—"

"DON’T PUSH IT."

"Okay," he whispered, sitting back down.

Beside him, Mydei grumbled under his breath before side-eyeing Phainon. "...Why are you sitting on the floor?"

Phainon turned to him and blinked. "Because you sat down."

"I sat down because she was mad at me!"

"Yeah, and she was mad at me too."

"So what, you just copied me?"

"Pretty much."

Mydei groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hate you so much." "But your sister loves me ;)"

[littlegochu]

"just friends" part 4 │ jjk 18+

"no feelings. no promises. just a night that didn’t end when it should’ve."

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: friends with benefits, cold male lead, cold female lead

rating: 18+, smut

synopsis: we weren’t close. just mutuals. he was mia’s boyfriend’s friend — always quiet, always there, always looking like he didn’t care about anything. then we hooked up once. and then again. now it’s late-night texts, locked doors, and pretending not to look at each other during group hangouts. no feelings. no rules. just whatever this is. and yeah, maybe i’m in too deep — but if he is too, he’s not saying it either.

-

The message is already there when I wake up.

[Jungkook]: your place?

I stare at it for a while. Blink. Roll onto my back and let the sunlight hit my face like punishment. My head isn’t aching, but it might as well be—my thoughts are loud enough.

I don’t answer.

Instead, I toss my phone somewhere into the mess of sheets and blanket, drag myself out of bed, and plant my feet on the cold hardwood like it might shock something useful back into my brain.

He’s not my boyfriend. He never was. It was stress relief. Graduation anxiety. A mutual understanding. A warm body and a sharp mouth and a habit that got too familiar.

So why does my chest feel tight?

I shower like it’ll rinse it off. Like it’ll undo the way he looked at me from across the couch—like I was someone he wanted to forget and couldn’t. I don’t even remember washing my hair, just that my fingers shook when they brushed my collarbone.

[Jungkook]: or u mad i didn’t chase you down last night

I still don’t answer.

-

Mira picks the coffee shop—tiny, overpriced, with oat milk and weird lighting that makes everyone look like they’re in a Lana Del Rey music video.

"You look like you haven’t slept in three weeks," she says, sipping something with cinnamon foam and zero empathy.

I shrug. "Just a rough night."

"Oh? Because of Theo? Or because of a certain black-haired menace who texted me asking where you went?"

My eyes narrow over the rim of my iced matcha. "You talk to him?"

"Not really. He just said, and I quote, 'your friend disappear or just dramatic?'" She lifts her brow. "So. Which was it?"

"Neither," I say, leaning back. "It was just time to go."

Mira watches me too closely. Like she’s waiting for a crack to show.

She leans her chin into her palm. "You know, for someone who’s not supposed to care, you’re acting weird."

I exhale slowly. "I’m not acting weird. I’m just... over it."

She snorts. "You’re over it the way people are over their ex but still check their stories."

I say nothing.

She softens a little, like she knows she’s pressing too hard. "You know I get it, right? I’m not judging you. It’s just—when you walked out last night, he looked like someone just stole his lighter."

I blink. "That’s oddly specific."

"It’s Jungkook. He’s attached to stupid things."

I huff a laugh, finally. "Yeah. Like bad decisions."

She smiles, then sighs. "He’s not easy. Never has been. Even as a kid. Always intense, always quiet until he wasn't. People thought he was cool, but really he was just… complicated."

"Sounds familiar."

Mira lifts her brow. "Exactly. You two speak the same language. Which is probably why it’s a disaster."

"We were just hooking up," I say, quieter now. "It helped. When school was insane, when everything felt too loud—he was just… there."

"But now school’s over. And he’s still there."

I don’t respond.

"So what now?" she asks, more gently this time. "You ghost him? Pretend it didn’t matter?"

"We weren’t anything."

"You keep saying that. Doesn’t sound very convincing."

I play with my straw. The ice has all melted.

"You’re really on both sides, huh?"

"Unfortunately," Mira says, rolling her eyes. "I like you both. But don’t make me pick if this blows up. Seriously. I’ll vanish. Witness protection. New name, new life."

I crack a smile. "You’re dramatic."

"And you’re deflecting."

I lift my cup. "Cheers to that."

"No promises," I murmur.

"You know," she says casually, stirring her drink like she isn’t aiming straight for my jugular, "I know you think this thing with him was just about stress. But finals are over. Graduation happened. You don’t look very relieved."

I look away.

The coffee shop smells like vanilla syrup and someone’s overly ambitious cologne. My fingers tap restlessly against my cup. The straw squeaks.

"We used each other," I say finally. "It was mutual."

Mira hums. "Sure. Mutual. That’s why you look like he hit you with a truck made of bad decisions."

I glare. "You’re enjoying this."

"A little. I like when you have feelings. It makes you human."

I roll my eyes.

"So what now?" she asks, sipping again. "You just ghost each other? Pretend it never happened? You know we’re all friends, right? You can’t unsee each other."

"We don’t need to." I pick at the lid of my cup. "He’ll move on. Probably already has."

That comes out too bitter. I try not to let it show.

But Mira doesn’t miss a beat.

"Right," she says, slow. "And that doesn’t bother you at all? Him with someone else?"

I scoff. "No."

"Hmm." A beat. "You sure?"

I don’t answer. Because if I do, I might say something stupid. Like I saw him with someone last night and it felt like swallowing glass.

-

My apartment is too quiet when I get home.

The walls hum with silence, the hum of the fridge, the ticking of the hallway clock. I toss my keys in the bowl by the door and set my phone face down on the counter like it might behave better that way.

I wash a dish. Then another. Then stare at the sponge like it holds answers.

What if he did go home with her? What if that text this morning was just routine? Just checking if I’d let him use me again?

What if I want him to?

I’m about to spiral again when there’s a knock on the door.

Three short raps. Confident.

I freeze.

The air feels thicker. My skin prickles.

I open it.

Jungkook stands on the other side.

He’s in dark joggers, a fitted tee that clings to his arms, and a zip-up that he didn’t bother zipping. His hair’s slightly messy like he ran a hand through it a few times, and there’s a faint line across his neck like he just woke up from a nap he didn’t mean to take.

He looks stupid hot.

Which is deeply unfair.

I lean against the doorframe.

"What."

He tilts his head. "You ignoring me now?"

I lift a brow. "Were you expecting a thank-you card for last night?"

His lips twitch. "Didn’t think I needed one. But you dipped without a word."

"So?"

"So?" He steps closer. "You gonna tell me why?"

I shrug. "Didn’t feel like staying."

"That all?"

I meet his gaze. Cool. Level.

"Why? You miss me already?"

He smiles. Slow. Sharp.

"Are you jealous?"

I scoff. "Of what? The girl with the wandering hands? Please."

He laughs—quiet, throaty. He looks at me like he knows he’s getting under my skin.

I hate how much he is.

"Stop acting like that," I say flatly.

He quirks a brow. "Like what?"

"Like you didn’t do anything wrong."

Jungkook leans against the frame beside me. Close enough to feel. The scent of his cologne hits—clean, faint spice, warm skin underneath. It curls into my lungs and sits there.

"Did I?"

I want to scream. Or kiss him. Or slam the door.

Instead, I roll my eyes and step back.

"You coming in or just here to admire yourself in the peephole reflection?"

He smirks. Follows me inside.

It starts all over again.

-

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks in like he’s done it a hundred times—which he has—and glances around the room like something might’ve changed in the last twelve hours.

I fold my arms. "You here to sulk in person? Or did texting me twice not feed your ego enough?"

He tosses a look over his shoulder. "I brought you something."

I blink. "What?"

He holds up a plastic bag. Inside: two cups of boba, condensation slicking down the sides.

"Figured you were still mad," he says. "You always want something sweet when you’re mad."

I don’t move right away. Just stare at the bag. My throat feels too dry.

Right. Of course he brought boba.

Because I’m just a casual fuck to him. That’s why he’s here. That’s what this is. Don’t be dumb.

But my chest pulls tight anyway, like my body didn’t get the memo.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

I can find someone else easily. If I wanted. If I cared. I don’t.

I grab the drinks without thanking him. It doesn’t stop the flutter in my chest.

"You think this fixes anything?"

He shrugs and drops onto the couch, legs spread like he owns the place. "Didn’t know I broke anything."

I roll my eyes and sip the boba. It's my favorite. Obviously.

He watches me over the rim of his hand as he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back. The veins in his forearms stand out when he stretches, and I hate that I notice.

"You keep looking at me like that," he says, "people might start thinking you like me."

"Keep talking like that and you’ll be the only one thinking that."

He laughs, quiet and low. "You missed me."

"You’re delusional."

"You didn’t block me."

"Bad karma."

"You opened the door."

"Out of curiosity."

He leans back, arm resting along the top of the couch, one leg bouncing slightly. Every move is lazy, comfortable, and way too attractive.

"So what’s the deal?" he asks. "We just don’t talk anymore?"

"That was the idea."

"Doesn’t seem to be working."

I cross the room slowly and sit across from him, curling one leg under myself. I keep the boba in my hand like a shield. He watches every move like it matters.

His gaze lingers a little too long. My skin warms. My pulse kicks.

"Don’t look at me like that," I say again, quieter this time.

"Like what?"

"Like you miss me."

He doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps his eyes on me. Heavy. Dark. Focused.

"Maybe I do."

The silence sits thick between us. I should say something sharp. I should laugh it off. But I don’t. I just stare at him, my breath shallow.

The silence sits thick between us. I should say something sharp. I should laugh it off. But I don’t. I just stare at him, my breath shallow.

He taps his thigh. "Come here."

I don’t move.

"You’re scared," he says, and it’s not a challenge. It’s just a fact.

"Of what?"

He tilts his head. "Of how bad you want this to not be casual anymore."

I scoff, but it sounds thin. "You’ve got a big head for someone who couldn’t even keep my attention past midnight."

He smirks, stands slowly, and walks toward me.

"Want me to try again?"

I swallow. My heart hammers.

He stops just in front of me. Not touching. Just close. The kind of close that’s magnetic.

"Say the word," he says, voice low. "And I’ll back off."

I look at him. I really look at him.

And I don’t say a thing.

He leans in. His lips ghost over mine. I feel his breath. My hand grips the edge of the couch, knuckles white.

The boba is long forgotten on the table.

When he kisses me, it’s soft. Testing. But underneath—heat.

It’s about to get messy. Again.

-

He kisses me like he’s trying to remind me of something—his mouth slow, tongue teasing, hands still annoyingly patient. And I’m over it.

I push forward, fingers curling in the front of his shirt, and shove him back until the backs of his knees hit the couch. He lets himself fall with a low grunt, looking up at me with something between surprise and amusement.

“Damn,” he murmurs, voice slightly rough. “Didn’t think you were in the mood.”

I climb over him, straddling his thighs, pulling his jacket down off one shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

His hands hover at my hips, not quite grabbing—like he’s waiting for permission, or maybe just enjoying watching me lose it first.

“You still mad?” he asks, tone mocking. “Still jealous?”

I drag my nails along his collarbone, just hard enough to leave a mark. “Shut up.”

He groans low, like he likes that too much. “Fuck, you're hot when you’re pissed.”

“You don’t know me pissed.”

“I’m starting to.”

I grind against him once—slow and firm. His breath stutters.

His jaw tightens, hands finally clamping down on my waist. But he doesn’t guide. Doesn’t take control. He just holds on, letting me move how I want.

Which is worse.

Because it means I’m doing this to myself.

He looks up at me with his jaw flexing, lips parted, eyes half-lidded and dark. It’s infuriating how good he looks like this—messy, controlled, completely at ease beneath me like he owns this whole situation without doing a damn thing.

“You gonna keep teasing?” he says lowly.

“Maybe.”

“Figured.”

I lean in, mouth grazing his. “You don’t get to act bored when you’re this fucking hard.”

His breath catches. “Didn’t say I was bored.”

I kiss him again, rougher this time. There’s nothing sweet about it—just teeth and tongue and too much tension pressed into skin. He kisses back with heat but holds himself steady, letting me take.

That’s what pisses me off the most.

He doesn’t try to dominate me. Doesn’t flip us over or take charge.

He lets me have it.

Because he knows I want it.

I pull at the hem of his shirt. He lifts his arms just enough to help but never stops watching me—like he’s curious how far I’ll go before I break.

I push his shirt over his head, toss it somewhere careless. His chest rises and falls, inked skin flushed. My hands drag down his stomach, lower.

“You still think I missed you?” I ask.

He exhales through his nose, smirking. “You act like it.”

“Ha,” I scoff.

His breath catches again when I palm him through his sweats. I don’t look away. I want to see it. Want to watch the tension unravel.

His fingers dig in at my hips. A groan rumbles low in his chest.

“I’m not gonna stop you,” he mutters. “You know that, right?”

“I don’t need you to.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

His hands slide up my thighs and under my shirt, slow but confident, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just under my ribs. He tugs the fabric up inch by inch until I lift my arms for him to pull it over my head. The cool air hits my skin, and he doesn’t waste time—he palms my chest roughly through my bra, lips dragging along my jaw.

I arch slightly. He grins against my skin.

"You’re easy to rile up," he mutters, mouth ghosting over the top edge of the bra.

"You talk too much."

He slides one strap down, then the other, dragging the cups away to expose me. His mouth is hot when it wraps around one nipple, tongue swirling once before he sucks hard. My fingers tighten in his hair.

He hums against me like he enjoys it. The sound vibrates through my chest.

He switches to the other side, bites gently, then soothes the sting with his tongue. My breathing goes shallow. His hand kneads the side of my breast, rough and greedy.

"You like this?" he says against my skin.

"I like shutting you up."

He smirks, but the way he looks at me now is darker. Hungrier.

"You gonna return the favor?"

I blink down at him. Then I shove his chest.

He falls back with a grunt, smirking as I move down between his legs.

"You’re dangerous like this," he says.

"You talk too much."

I pull his sweats down, slow and deliberate. His breath hitches. I don’t look away.

His cock is already hard, flushed, the kind of perfect that makes my throat dry. I stroke him once, twice, loving the way his hips twitch.

When I finally take him into my mouth, he groans—deep and raw, head falling back.

"Fuck, that’s..." He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to.

I go slow at first, then pick up the pace, tongue working him over as he grips the edge of the couch. I press my palm flat against his stomach, feeling the muscles jump.

He mutters something, curse and praise all tangled.

I don’t stop until his hand tightens in my hair and his breath turns ragged.

"Y/N—"

I pull off, wipe my mouth, and climb back onto his lap.

His pupils are blown wide. His chest rises and falls like he just ran five miles.

I reach between us and guide him, slow but certain. He shudders under me, the sharp hitch in his breath making my head spin. I sink down inch by inch, every nerve lit up, every inch of him pushing into me like he belongs there.

His hands slide up my thighs again but stop at my hips. He doesn’t help. Doesn’t move. Just holds me in place and watches like he’s burning this into memory.

"You wanted control," he says, voice rough. "Then move."

So I do.

At first it’s slow, steady. Just enough to get used to the stretch again, to remind myself that I can take it. That I’ve done this before. That it shouldn’t feel this different.

But it does.

It feels too good.

His jaw is tight. His eyes are on my mouth. He looks like he’s fighting himself with every second that passes.

I roll my hips once and his fingers dig in, but he doesn’t stop me.

“Don't look at me like that,” I whisper. “I dare you.”

His voice is ragged. “I’m trying not to.”

“Try harder.”

He laughs under his breath, but it dies fast when I move again. Faster this time. Harder. His mouth parts, a low sound dragging from his throat.

The couch creaks. My skin is flushed and damp. I can feel him twitch inside me and it just spurs me on.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”

My hands splay against his chest. His skin is hot and smooth, his abs flexing with every shift of my hips. He’s trying to hold still but I feel it—every second closer to breaking.

“Why are you doing this?” he breathes.

I slow, stare at him. “Because I can.”

He groans again, eyes closing like it physically hurts to let me have this much power.

“You’re gonna make me forget this is supposed to be casual,” he mutters.

I bite down on his shoulder, not soft. “Shut up.”

He pulls me down to kiss him again—messy, hot, all tongue and teeth. This time, I let him.

Because if he wants to pretend this means nothing, then fine.

I can pretend too.

I ride him until both of us are shaking. Until the air is thick and the only sounds in the room are my breathy curses and his ragged moans and the slick rhythm of our bodies moving like we forgot how to stop.

And when I feel him start to lose it, I don’t slow down.

I want to watch him fall apart.

“Say it,” I whisper.

He grits his teeth. “Say what.”

“That I’m better than her.”

His hands fist in the couch. “Fuck.”

“Say it.”

He growls, snapping his hips up once, sharp and perfect. “You are her.”

'You are her.'

Hm.

“Louder.”

“You are her. Fuck, you’re—”

authors note (edit made after publishing): jungkook didn't get w that other girl, she was just seen flirting w him at the party hence why he said "you are her." since y/ns bringing up imaginary competition 😭 but also mind jungkook is free to mess around with whoever he wants! as long as he's practicing safe sex since him and y/n aren't anything serious/established!

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.

He comes hard, body locked, face wrecked. And I don’t stop moving until I’m chasing it too, shaking, clutching him like I hate him for how good it feels.

We collapse in silence, both of us breathing like we ran a marathon.

My head drops to his shoulder. His arm slides around my back. Not possessive. Just there.

Like he forgot to think twice.

And I let him.

authors note: lwokey rushed this but comment and lmk what u think!

part 5 here

[senipsenipsenip]

Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.

"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"

He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"

Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.

"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"

"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.

"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."

Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."

"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.

"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"

Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.

"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.

"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.

Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"

Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.

"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."

"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.

"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"

Stan froze. "What?"

"My first kiss, do you remember it?"

"I was there?"

"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."

Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"

"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."

Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"

Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"

"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."

"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."

Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"

Ford turned redder. "You do."

"I do? Geez, I was a perv."

"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."

Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."

Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"

Dipper balked. "What? No I - "

"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"

"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."

"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"

"What? No!"

"Some girls like nerds."

"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."

"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"

"MABEL -"

The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Holy - " he choked out softly.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"

Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.

"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.

"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.

Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.

Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"

"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"

"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"

"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"

"You brought it up!"

"And now I'm putting a stop to it."

Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"

"Stanley, please don't joke about that."

"I'm fading away - "

"Stanley."

Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."

"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"

"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."

Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.

"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."

After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.

"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."

Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."

"I regret this already."

"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."

Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"

Dipper shrugged.

"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."

[achrams]

𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Dr.Strange's cloak starts acting odd after he comes back from a long mission.

𝐂𝐰: Bondage, getting caught?, protected sex.

What began as a self proclaimed mage meets an actual qualified sorcerer ended up in a tender relationship. To most people’s surprise probably. Sure, most of your time together consisted of one practice session after another but there were moments for tender affection too..er well somewhat. Because as of right now, the last time you two had genuine contact was about 4 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, 7 hours and 12 minutes ago. Oddly specific, right? It wasn’t like someone was keeping track of it, oh totally not.

Ever since the beginning of that timer the both of you have been rather busy with work. While Dr. Strange was dealing with world class missions with some collective he'd been hesitant to work with, his own words ask him, while you were gaining magic experience little by little. Mostly boring paperwork and some acts here and there. On the off chance you actually got to put your powers to the test, you did not hold back for a moment. Gauging your own success and celebrating it all the same. It was your time to shine, your time to show people you could be trusted with future issues. So far you had a clear record, not a single thing had gone wrong on your little pieces of work.

---

Currently sitting in Sanctum Sanctorum, you sighed in relief when another paper on the neighbourhood issues had finally been finished. Setting your pens down, you turned around to look at the view outside, nearly night time already. How many hours have you done this again? Three? Seven? Turns out the ‘one more report’ turned into another and another until a pile formed. Who would have thought you'd get fixated on paperwork instead of gaming videos.

Just when you were about to leave for your nightly routine before bed, a sudden portal popped up and in walked the one and only. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” You smiled softly, not mad, not disappointed. Just glad that your Stephen was safe and sound, after all getting together with a hero had its own fair share of rules as well as difficulties in the distance department. Though, after such a long time this had become the norm. At least now things could go normal, as normal as they could anyways.

“It's not been that long.” He said, the usual tinge of sass in his dialogue yet despite his words he still walked over to you like a tired pup after playtime. Hands falling around your middle while his forehead met your shoulder with a sigh. It was his silent way of asking for a bit of affection, backpedalling on his words without having said anything. A silent language only you knew. To which you just sighed and pulled him closer and prepared to press a kiss to his forehead before a sudden force yanked you two apart.

Raising an eyebrow you questioned, “Uh, is everything alright?” Expecting a clear answer turned out to be impossible since Stephen was just as perplexed as you were. “Mostly.” He said, suspicious but not wanting to put any ideas out there just yet. Finding the game of letting you figure it out rather fun. Needing more concrete proof of his ‘theories’ before he'd take action. “Alright. Well, do what you need to, I'll be going to bed. Goodnight hun.” A simple goodbye for the night since the two of you had different sleep routines.

The next morning, however, when you had expected to have a warm morning with Stephen, after a long time apart, it was cut off by a disturbance again. Having walked to the kitchen, the hot coffee poured into two mugs by Stephen as you wrapped your arms around his middle. Face buried into his neck while you sighed in relaxation. You didn’t have the time to press a kiss to Stephen's neck before a shattering sound came from the room over. Rushing in came the infamous cloak. Latching itself against Stephen before pulling him out the room. “Huh..?” You muttered out, now standing alone in the kitchen. More confused than you’d ever been.

The same thing kept happening over and over again. If you thought it was a coincidence at first then there was no denying that it was purposeful now. Every single time you and Stephen got affectionate with one another, that damned cloak managed to butt itself into the tender moment. Ruining it. For example, cuddling while watching tv? No, the cloak wiggled itself between the two of you. Going on a walk together? Nope, the cloak started pushing Stephen forward twice as fast as you could even walk. Even holding hands was difficult with how the cloak curled its sides inwards to prevent it from happening. Something was seriously off.

Day after day it grew into a few weeks. Annoying, long weeks without being able to touch your lover at all. This must be modern torture. Sitting before Stephen, you clasped your hands below your chin. “Sooo, I've noticed your cloak dislikes me.” You said while keeping your voice low in fear of the cloak listening in and somehow ruining this moment too, without ever managing to figure things out on how to fix it. “Finally. I was beginning to think you were actually stupid.” He said with a proud smirk, crossing his arms over his chest as if he had won some lottery.

“Right, then..why? It didn’t have a problem with me before.” You said, leaning back in your chair with a deep sigh. “Think about it. You go to another side of the world for a long while with someone. You bond, grow your friendship and suddenly it's time to go back. Would you want to leave your friend?” Stephen asked, finding some neat pleasure in playing mind games with you, seeing you follow his instructions. The good ones that were supposed to give you new perspectives to think about. Another thing he could feel proud about teaching you.

“No, I'd want to keep the friendship going.” You said, serious as ever while looking over at Stephen who had already fixated his gaze on you with an expectant glint. Urging you to piece the puzzle together on your own without him having to reveal it. It took you a few moments before you laughed a soft sound between surprise and disbelief, “Wait- Don’t tell me your coak grew jealous. Of me?” As funny as the idea was, it happened to be exactly that. Going on a mission with Stephen had left the cloak longing for more time alone with its owner.

“Honestly, I'm as surprised as you are. Never have I ever thought to see a jealous relic.” Stephen said then stood up to move closer to you. Leaning down to whisper into your ear that you guys should show this piece of fabric that it shouldn’t come between the two of you anymore or else it might walk in on something it probably wouldn’t like. The whole plan was easier than expected since you had no trouble getting handsy. It had been quite a long time afterall.

Waiting until midnight before getting to work. Or rather getting all up in each other's business. It started off as a simple make out, slowly adding hands that travelled. Your one hand was gripping the back of Stephen's head while the other pulled him closer by his hip while Stephen's hands were desperately pulling you close by your clothes. Hearing the racking coming from down the hall, you were sure it was going according to how you guys discussed. Maybe even better than anticipated given you have only just begun.

Sensing the heat grow, you pinned Stephen to the bed, smothering his skin with one kiss after another, leaving the occasional bites while your hand slid down to cup his growing erection. Smiling against Stephen's skin when you heard him sigh with need, bordering on a whine. A gentle teasing tug and you had him buck his hips up into your hand, it made you happy how easy you could make him crave you. Letting your lips find his once more you began making out again, all while your hands got busy with peeling off his clothes one by one.

The pile scattered over the bed. He was finally bare and vulnerable below you, oh so pretty just for you. Flushed and heaving from those gentle kisses that wet his skin and caressing hands that knew all of the hidden erogenous zones by heart. Melting this respected sorcerer to a puddle of neediness. Smiling down at him, you cupped his dick, slowly, teasingly jerking him. Wanting to make him cry and arch into your touch with barely contained whimpers before you’d give him the speed he wanted. Thumb purposefully pressing the underside of his dick, just below the leaking crown. Sensitive and perfect.

“You know-..oh shit…you know you don’t have to hold back, right?” Stephen breathed out, stopping his sentence each time you played into his weaknesses. Soft caresses, longing looks and that damn lustful look on your face. With a smile you leaned over him, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth before whispering, “I’m not..but if you want something, you’re gonna have to say so clearly.” Your hand, still busy with jerking Stephen off in agonisingly slow movements. This was Stephen’s way of getting what he wanted without losing his pride, you knew that yet you wanted to hear him voice his own needs rather than twist the words. Seeing as you wouldn’t budge from your plan to deliciously torture Stephen, he grew a bit overstimulated.

“Come on- just..fuck me already!” He suddenly groaned, his dick leaking pre all over your thumb by this point. Though as much as you would have liked to memorise this moment of Stephen breaking under pleasure, it had been a blur of orange lights and banging on the door. Oh yeah, you’d forgotten why you were doing this in the first place. The cloak. It had escaped its cage and came tumbling down the hall to barge in but with how needy Stephen had got, there was no way he was letting anything come between you two. Hence the sudden magic, the room filled with a few portals and through them he had forged his glowing whips. The initial idea had been to use them to block out the cloak from entering but seems like the sexual frustration had doubled the effect.

The door had been completely blocked off by a net of whip parts, all messy as they lasered the room like fairy lights. That was not all, in the middle of this mess of magic the whips had tied themself around your body. Hands behind your back, together at the wrists then around your torso, to pin your arms to your sides. Turns out that your Stephen might be a bit more a freak than he lets on, a side he only shows in desperation. He did not care that things might be all over the place, all he was focused on was getting you inside him. You tensed up a bit at the sudden bondage but seeing Stephen so eager was turning you on more than you’d like to admit. Despite the awkward thrashing you could hear from the doorway, it seems the cloak really didn’t like this but knowing that nothing could be done about this moment made it leave. You didn’t notice when but at least it didn’t feel like you were being burned by an invisible gaze.

“Good..fuck- you were driving me insane you minx.” Stephen chuckled out and moved his arms to pull you down onto the bed by the whips. Almost puppeteering you with how crowded the bed suddenly felt. He wasted no time in clawing off your pants to get his hands on the prize, you could see the silent relief in his when he saw you hard and twitching against your abdomen. Seems like you did truly want this as much as he did. He held you in his hand jerking you eagerly for a moment before slipping a condom over it. You didn’t notice how or when he’d got his hands on it but it’s not like it mattered. You were about to reach heaven really soon.

With barely contained eagerness Stephen crawled over, straddling your hips to line himself up with you before sinking down. “Perfect..now that I’m in control..I’m going to do what I want.” He declared with a smile and forced himself harshly down with a needy bounce. His head falling back from the pleasure, making him clench around you like fist. A sigh left his lips before he gained a good momentum, hands neatly holding the whips steady while he lost himself to the pleasure. 

You could only watch as this genius of a man was fucking himself dumb on your dick, hair rocking along with his eager grinding, eyes closed in bliss, hands tightening around the ropes to keep you pinned all while his insides perfectly squeezed you dry. You, too, were having a difficult time holding back, each bounce from Stephen felt so ethereal that one might mistake it as a massage for your mind. He was so perfect for you, despite the fact he was keeping to his own rhythm, not letting you take charge for the night. Pleasure and desperation mixing into a deadly potion of lust.

Even when Stephen was reaching his peak, he refused to speed up, keeping a consistent tempo. A knowing smirk on his face as he felt his core tighten up, threatening to clutch around your twitching dick so hard it would make you see white. “Hun..please..just a tad faster?” You begged while barely being able to keep your eyes open, mouth fallen open and soft groans escaping every time Stephen took you deep into his body. Your voices worked together perfectly to create an orchestra of sounds. “Noo..after you teased me..I think you deserve this.” He replied with a whine of his own, legs shaking from how greedily he had been fucking himself on your dick.

“Please?” You begged again, louder this time since the peak was so close for you. Just a smidge more and you’d be able to feel the euphoria wash over you. Stephen only moaned in response, cruelly ignoring the plea for a good minute before he harshened his bouncing. His inner walls clinging to your dick like a leech before he pulled you under with him. A shuddering climax rushed over the both of you, drawing out loud cries of release. Both of you felt your bodies give into exhaustion with how backs were arched and muscles that were tensed.

Taking a breather, Stephen finally let go of his magic, falling forward to lie against your chest while your hands surrounded him in a comforting hug. “Dear lord..you were perfect..” You whispered out, pressing a kiss to his temple before shuffling against the bed. Groaning when your dick twitched in Stephen, feeling cozy in the warm cavern. “I was just giving you a piece of your own medicine.” He sighed and visibly relaxed against you, eyes shut as he muttered something about cleaning up later.

You gladly agreed and let Stephen fall asleep in your arms. Smiling to yourself at the sight of an unusually soft Stephen. It made your heart soar. With a grin you looked at the doorway where the cloak had been previously seen. “Take that.” You whispered and by the sound of an upset clank downstairs, the cloak had sensed you talking shit. It would get over it soon enough, it had to. Stephen was your boyfriend afterall, there was no way a cloak was going to get between you two.