☙ 🇻🇳/ 19 y/o self taught traditional artist! still practicing digital art.
☙ Multifandom! My main fandom rn is Tokyo Debunker (tkdb).
☙ I draw whatever but mainly draw my OC(s) and probably characters I’m currently fixated in.
☙ Might take art requests, not guaranteed tho, I’ll open when I feel like it.
☙ I don’t mind CharOC/ OCChar (Yume ships?)! I think it’s cute teehee.
☙ Feel free to send messages or asks to me! I'd love to listen and talk about the ghouls or your ocs!! We can also be art moots if you feel like it ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)!
˙ ✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜ 𝐓𝐚𝐠! ˙꩜˖🫐 ⋆｡˚✩°
☙ uni's art: what i draw in general
☙ uni’s oc: oc art
☙ uni’s reblog: what I reblog
☙ uni’s rant: basically just me ranting (mostly about OC, game or random thoughts)
⋆˙⟡ — FOUR TIMES MUALANI SUSPECTED SOMETHING WAS GOING ON (AND ONE TIME SHE WAS RIGHT)
pairing: kinich x reader
cw: no pronouns mentioned. ajaw is in a vacation. slight but not slight pda. mualani overreacting but she is a sweet. best friends trio. pyro vision reader mentioned. not beta-read.
reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡
Mualani knew Kinich and you were friends—close best friends, just like you two were with her—but lately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
It started with little things, almost too subtle to be noticeable but somehow it didn’t escape from her perception. Things like how Kinich, ever the quiet guy, had begun lingering a little too long when he talked to you, or how you’d run all your way to the Scions of the Canopy's village just to welcome him back after a mission.
At first, she didn’t pay too much attention thinking you guys were just being more affectionative and caring to each other. However, as time passed by, it has been shown to be more than a mutual friendly appreciation and certainly beyond a mere coincidence.
I.
The first time Mualani noticed something different was in an early morning by the coast, watching the waves curl and crash. She often started her day stretching at the shore and riding the first waves of dawn. But this time, as she rounded a cliff, she spotted Kinich and you sitting on a rock overlooking the sea. The two of you were close enough that your arms brushed every time the wind picked up.
Kinich’s usual stern expression was softer than usual. Mualani squinted at you suspiciously. Were you... holding hands?
She jogged closer, but just as she got near enough to say something, Kinich quickly stood up, putting a considerable distance between you and himself. “You're up early,” he said, his voice in its usual calm.
You smiled warmly. “Hey girl! How are the waves? We were just discussing about it.”
Mualani tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You were? Really?”
You let out a light and confusing laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course.”
She didn’t quite buy it, but you didn’t give her any reason to push further. “Well, the waves are good today! You guys joining?”
Kinich only gave her a polite headshaking, while you nodded smiling. Maybe she was imagining things.
II.
Except she wasn’t.
A few days later, you were hanging out by Tequemecan Valley' canyons with Kinich standing quietly while you and Mualani chatted. However, every time she glanced toward him, Kinich seemed to be watching you a little too intently. It wasn’t the usual hunter’s focus; it was softer, caring, almost like... adoring.
The girl squinted, pretending to be interested in some flowers nearby while keeping an eye on you two. You didn’t seem to notice anything, or if did, you didn’t mind. You just kept talking, your laughter filling the air.
When Mualani caught Kinich staring again, she couldn’t help but ask, “Kinich, you okay? You’ve been zoning out all day.”
He blinked, his neutral mask slipping back into place. “I’m fine.”
“He’s just tired from all the training,” you teased, winking at him.
Mualani raised an eyebrow, astonished by the scene before her eyes. Something was definitely going on.
III.
The third time came on a day when Mualani was guiding a group of Sumeru’s travelers near the springs when she spotted you and Kinich again, standing by the water. As she approached, she saw Kinich leaning down to whisper something to you, his lips close to your ear. You giggled softly in response.
Wait a minute... Kinich never whispers to anyone. Much less in such an intimate way and even less to make someone laugh. Mualani's instincts flared up immediately. What was he saying? And why did you look so happy about it?
She cleared her throat loudly as she walked up. “Hey. What are you two whispering about?”
Kinich straightened up quickly, crossing his arms. “Nothing important.”
You smiled at her, but there was a glimmer in your eyes that made the girl even more suspicious. “Just a silly joke,” you said lightly.
A joke, huh? Mualani filed it away in her mind. This time she was very determined to figure out what was going on between you two.
IV.
It was late afternoon, and Mualani had just finished surfing when she saw you two by the waterside. Kinich and you stood close, so close as it has strangely been, and for a brief moment, she could have sworn Kinich was about to lean in and kiss you.
She froze, watching from a distance as you smiled up at him, your palm softly pushing his chest away. Were you two really about to kiss? It couldn’t be just her angle view. Could it be?
But just as quickly as it happened, Kinich stepped back, his usual stoic demeanor falling back into place. You turned and waved at her, your smile as bright as ever.
“Lani. Hey! How was the surf?” you called out.
Mualani, still in shock, shook her head. “Uh... good. Really good.”
She stared at you both for a moment longer, convinced she’d almost witnessed something, but there was no proof. Again.
V.
In the several days that followed, Mualani continued to witness that strangeness that kept repeating itself every time you thought she wasn’t around, creating a certain tension between her and you and Kinich—although she doubted that you had noticed any difference, treating her as you always did from the beginning.
Even if it relieved her to know that nothing had changed in your friendship, the surfer couldn't help but feel upset too. Was it that bad if she found out? Didn't you trust her the same way she trusted you? She wanted to be able to release all of her thoughts and ask you if maybe there was something in your bond that was bothering you. But she didn't. And so, things remained the same.
That was a quiet evening, and the moon hung low over the mountains. Mualani had been taking a stroll, enjoying the peaceful night, when she stumbled upon you.
This time, though, there was no mistaking it—Kinich and you stood together under some trees, locked in a slow, deep kiss.
The girl’s cheeks burned as red as the pyro vision you hold so dear closely, eyes widely opening and heart skipping a beat. She gasped, louder than she intended, and both of you quickly turned toward her. You blinked twice before smiling stiffly, even daring to look a bit embarrassed, while Kinich gave her a calm look, his hands still resting on your waist.
“You two!” She exclaimed shaking her head, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier! I mean, I knew something was up, but really?”
You bit your lip while Kinich just blinked at her, slightly starting to look more guilty as well.
“We didn’t mean to keep it from you for long,” you said as you stepped out of Kinich’s arms and reached for her hand. “We were just... taking our time.”
Mualani arched an eyebrow. “Taking your time? You two were being so weird and annoying with all those suspicious interactions for weeks now! I’m supposed to be your best friend!”
Kinich rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “We wanted to keep it quiet,” he said, his voice low. “At first, anyway.”
Mualani softened, her fake scold melting away into genuine affection. “Still, I would’ve loved to know sooner,” she said, her tone gentler now. “You know me better than anyone else. You know I would never judge you,” she sighed as she watches the sorrow on your face. “Nevertheless, I’m really happy for you both. Really am.”
You beamed and even Kinich’s usual stoic expression seemed to relax slightly.
Mualani continued, her voice full of warmth. “I’ve always known you two had something special. And now that I know for sure, you better believe I’m fully on board with this!” She shot Kinich a playful look. “Just make sure you treat (Y/N) right, okay?”
Kinich nodded, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “I will.”
You squeezed Mualani’s hand, your eyes sparkling with gratitude and pure happiness. “Thank you, Lani. Your support means a lot to us.”
Mualani grinned, pulling you both into a tight hug. “Just don’t keep secrets from me again, alright? I’m always here for you two.”
You all laughed but shared a quick but sweet bond moment, the atmosphere light and easy. And somehow, Mualani couldn’t help but feel like everything had fallen into place just the way it was meant to.
“But just for your information. If the day comes of you get engaged and don’t tell me immediately, I’ll crash the proposal myself, make a huge scene, and tell everyone how long I’ve had to put up with your not so secret glances and not so subtle hand-holding. Trust me, it won’t be pretty!”
a small drabble with him as a passenger of the astral express…… and march being a fangirl
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ The Astral Express gym wasn’t exactly high tech, but it had everything you needed: open space, training mats, and just enough echo to make your footsteps sound cooler than they actually were. Sunday stood on the mat already, stretching his arms slowly. He was always composed. polished words, a little distant but never unfriendly. A recent addition to the Express, still settling in. You figured sparring would be a good way to break the ice. Or, at the very least, make him sweat a little.
“You ever sparred before?” you asked, rolling your shoulders as you stepped onto the mat across from him.
“Once or twice,” Sunday replied, giving you a look that was polite. “I assume you’ve done this more than that.”
You shrugged. “Yeah, a bit. We do it sometimes, just to stay sharp. Helps keep my mind quiet too.”
That made him pause for a moment. “I can understand that.” There was a brief stretch of silence as you both settled into your stances. You smiled.
“Alright. Light spar. First to three taps?”
“Fair enough.”
Then you moved. Sunday was careful. Precise. He didn’t rush or overstep, but you could tell he was reading you watching how you shifted your weight, how fast you reacted. You responded in kind, your movements smooth and quick, not showy like usual. This wasn’t about flair. It was about rhythm, connection, learning someone without needing words. The first tap came when you managed to slip behind him and brush his shoulder. He looked surprised. The second came quickly after his palm barely grazing your side as he dodged your next strike.
It was fun. Quietly fun.
Somewhere in the middle of the third round, things shifted. You both moved at the same time your foot angled to pivot, his shifting forward for a counter. It wasn’t anything dramatic, no wild kick or spin, just a split second misstep.
You felt your foot catch his. His arm moved quickly, instinctively reaching to steady you. Too late. Your balance tipped forward, his backward, and gravity did the rest.
The two of you landed with a dull thud on the mat. For a second, neither of you said anything. You opened your eyes to find yourself sprawled over him, chest pressing lightly against his, palms braced on either side of his shoulders. His arm was still around your waist where he’d tried to catch you.
Your faces were close. Close enough to count the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes. Close enough that his breath, warm and even, brushed against your cheek.
“Oh.” The sound escaped before you could help it. Not exactly graceful.
Sunday’s eyes didn’t move away from yours. His expression wasn’t annoyed, or embarrassed. If anything, he looked… thoughtful. Still. Like he wasn’t sure what to make of the moment either. You felt the weight of the silence more than the fall.
“I, uh” You shifted slightly, meaning to push yourself up, but your hand slipped against the mat, and you instinctively leaned closer to steady yourself. Now your nose almost touched his.
His hand, still on your back, tensed faintly just a twitch. But he didn’t move it. You laughed under your breath, a little breathless. “This probably looks worse than it is.”
“Maybe,” Sunday said, voice low, not quite smiling but not pulling away either. “But I’m not complaining.”
That made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him again, There was something softer in his face now. you realized you weren’t in a rush to get up. Not yet.
“…You okay?” you asked, quieter this time.
He nodded once. “You?”
You nodded too, eyes not leaving his. “Yeah.”
Another beat passed. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing under your hands. Not hurried. Just… calm. You slowly pushed yourself up and off of him, offering your hand once you were upright. He took it without hesitation. His fingers were warm.
Back on his feet, Sunday brushed some dust off his sleeve, but his eyes lingered on you longer than before. There was nothing more to say right then. So he just smiled and walked away.
“God I need a cold shower after that”
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Turns out it wasn’t a cold shower but nevertheless, a shower. The steam from your shower still clung to your skin as you stepped into the parlor car, toweling your damp hair with one hand, dressed in your usual cozy nightwear. You’d taken your time lingering under the hot water, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled in your chest after the spar with Sunday.
It was the way he looked at you. Still. Quiet. And how you hadn’t wanted to move. You exhaled, trying to shove the memory aside. Maybe it was just adrenaline. Heat of the moment stuff. Totally normal when you faceplant into someone’s lap. Right?
As you rounded the corner into the parlor car, voices floated up from the seating area. You paused half curious, half wary.
“…I’m telling you,” came March’s unmistakable whisper. “They were on top of each other. Like, full on dramatic slow motion fall. And neither of them moved for a good ten seconds. It was so weirdly quiet. I thought they were gonna kiss.”
Your stomach dropped. Your face lit up like a reactor core.
“March.” That was Dan Heng. His tone had that deadpan flatness that meant you’re being ridiculous again.
“No, I’m serious!” March hissed. “It was intense. They were looking at each other like… like in one of those cheesy holo dramas. And she totally forgot I was there. I had to back out slowly like I was interrupting something.”
“Maybe you were,” Caelus muttered under his breath.
“EXACTLY,” March said. “I mean, I always thought something might happen, but not this soon. And with Sunday? He’s like… all elegant and mysterious”
“I heard that.”
Three heads whipped around at once. You stood in the doorway, arms crossed, still towel drying your hair, blinking at them like you’d just caught them stealing cookies.
March squeaked and jumped three inches off the couch. “You! When did you get there?!”
“Long enough,” you said flatly, stepping fully into the car. “Long enough to hear my public execution.”
March scrambled to explain herself, hands flailing. “No no no! It wasn’t an execution, it was it was a friendly dramatic retelling! Like bedtime gossip!”
You stared at her. Dan Heng looked like he was rethinking every decision that led him to this moment. Caelus was trying very hard not to laugh.
You pointed at March. “Next time, announce the playbill if you’re gonna perform my personal life in three acts.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” March said, now clutching a cushion to her face. “Honestly, I thought it was kind of cute!”
“March.”
“Okay! Okay! I’ll stop talking!”
You plopped down into the seat beside her, stealing the cushion from her arms to bury your face in it.
“I hate everything,” came your muffled voice.
Dan Heng finally looked up from his book. “So… did anything actually happen?”
You didn’t answer. When you pulled the pillow away, your face was still pink. You shrugged. You slumped into the seat and closed your eyes.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
You walked along the glowing path of the new planet’s market district, your boots clicking softly against the polished stone. Lanterns floated above the crowd, casting a warm shimmer over everything, and strange alien wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze. It was one of the calmer stops for the Astral Express no explosions, no urgent missions. Just exploration, some research, and a little breathing room.
You sipped your drink a fizzy, spiced thing with a color that probably wasn’t natural and hummed to yourself as you trailed behind March and Caelus. They were arguing about the best souvenir to bring back for Pom–Pom.
You lingered by a street vendor selling constellation shaped pastries when a man tall, smug, and clearly very into himself sidled up beside you.
“You look like you could use some company,” he said, his tone low and confident, like he thought he was the main character in a romance drama.
You blinked, startled. “I’m uh, I’m good, thanks.”
But he didn’t get the hint. He smiled wider, stepping just a little closer. “You sure? Someone like you shouldn’t spend a night like this alone. I know a place nearby quiet, private. Just you and me, maybe some music”
“Wow,” you interrupted, trying to laugh it off. “That’s… forward.”
“Life’s short,” he replied smoothly. “Why waste time pretending?”
You took a step back, now officially uncomfortable. “Really, I’m not interested”
“She’s not.”
The voice came from behind you, calm and steady. Sunday. You turned your head just as he stepped into view, his hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable but voice just sharp enough to cut tension.
“She’s my girlfriend,” he added casually. “She’s not into that sort of thing.”
Your eyes widened. Girlfriend? Oh.
The guy blinked, his confidence faltering. “Oh I didn’t realize…”
“Now you do,” Sunday said, still polite, still calm. “You can move along.”
The man muttered something under his breath and walked off, melting into the crowd like smoke.
You exhaled slowly. “Okay. That was…”
“Uncomfortable,” Sunday finished for you, tilting his head slightly. “He wasn’t taking the hint.”
“No kidding,” you muttered. Then, with a faint smile, “Thanks for the save.”
He looked at you, eyes softening just a little. “You looked like you needed one.”
You nodded. “I did. But also ‘girlfriend?’ Really?”
“Seemed effective,” he replied without missing a beat. “Was I wrong to assume you wouldn’t want to go home with a stranger tonight?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “No, definitely not wrong. Just… caught me off guard.”
He gave a small shrug. “You can correct the record if you want.”
You looked at him, thoughtful now. The lantern light played against the sharp lines of his face, but his gaze was gentle, open.
“Nah,” you said, voice light. “Let them think I’ve got someone.”
Sunday gave the smallest smile. And then, almost too quiet to hear. “Maybe someday they’ll be right.”
You turned to him but he was already walking ahead, hands still in his pockets, calm as ever. You blinked. Then grinned.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
March wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not really. She had just been browsing one of the cute trinket stalls on the edge of the plaza admiring some heart shaped glass charms when she heard your voice from the next row over. You sounded… awkward. Uncomfortable.
Curious, March peeked around the corner, just in time to see some local guy lean in too close to you. His tone was oily, confident in that blech kind of way that made her want to throw a glowing pebble at his head. You were clearly trying to shake him off.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
March’s soul left her body.
Sunday’s voice was smooth and even, not threatening, but with that finality that made the creepy guy instantly freeze. He stepped up beside you with this casual calm, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable but there was no doubt in his tone.
“She’s not into that sort of thing,” he added coolly. “You can move along.”
The guy mumbled something and slinked away. March’s brain started loding the spinny ball of death.
Girlfriend? GIRLFRIEND?!
She didn’t even mean to gasp aloud, but it happened. Thankfully, no one heard. She ducked back behind the trinket stall, crouching like she was dodging a security drone. Her heart thumped against her ribs. When she peeked again, you were talking to Sunday, flustered and blushing. He stood there like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just set the local rumor mill on fire with one casual sentence.
March didn’t wait another second. She took off sprinting.
“I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.”
Caelus and Dan Heng both jumped in their seats as March burst into the tea shop, nearly knocking over a decorative lantern in her haste.
Dan Heng put down his cup with a sigh. “Let me guess.”
“No no guessing. Just listen.” March bent over the table, panting dramatically. “Sunday just called her his girlfriend. To a random guy. Who was hitting on her.”
Caelus blinked. “Wait. What?”
“You heard me! He said it without hesitation., ‘She’s my girlfriend.’ Boom. IT WAS SO KNIGHT IN SHINNING ARMOUR.”
Dan Heng raised an eyebrow. “And she didn’t correct him?”
“Not at all! She blushed! She just stood there blushing!”
Caelus slowly grinned. “Huh. I thought we were still in the pining phase.”
“That’s what I thought too!” March wailed, dropping into a seat across from them. “I thought I had time to mentally prepare for the will they won’t they!”
Dan Heng leaned back. “Maybe they skipped to the good part.”
March glared. “This is a story, Dan Heng. There’s a structure.”
Caelus sipped his tea again, amused. “BUT LIKE he did that just to protect her. Im sure we would do the same thing”
“Shhhhh are either of you wanting to marry her and want to look longingly at her.”
Dan Heng muttered, “I don’t think that that matters when you’re watching out for someone”
March just pointed toward the plaza. “Mark my words. Those losers are happening .”
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
March 7 lay curled beneath her mountain of pastel blankets, one leg sticking out, mouth slightly open, a bubble of drool forming with every breath. She looked… innocent. Unaware. Vulnerable.
Perfect. You stood at the edge of her bed, Caelus beside you, both cloaked in shadows and silence. “She sleeps like someone who hasn’t committed crimes,” you whispered.
“She sleeping like she didn’t fully diss Dan Heng and I for just existing,” Caelus murmured, smirking. “She called me a coward yesterday for not pushing you two together faster.”
You narrowed your eyes at the blissfully unaware March, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Your time of reckoning is over.”
And then, like a flash of divine vengeance, the pillow came down. WHUMP. March jolted awake with a squeak, arms flailing, hair a tangled mess. “WHAT WHO”
“JUSTICE,” you declared, striking again, this time dual wielding pillows like a vengeful sleep deprived warlord. “FOR PEACEFUL EXISTENCE.”
“TRAITOR!” March screamed as another pillow hit her in the face, this one clearly Caelus’s, who was now leaning against her dresser and howling with laughter. “You were supposed to be neutral!”
“I was never neutral,” Caelus grinned, tossing another pillow into your hands like a loyal arms dealer. “I just picked the winning side.”
“You picked VIOLENCE!”
“You picked CRAZY
Pillows flew. March kicked off her covers and dove behind the mountain of backup pillows she had an arsenal you knew too well. She emerged like a pink haired general, dual wielding plushies shaped like various alien mascots.
“I DID NOTHING TO YOU CAELUS!” she shouted, flinging one at Caelus’s head. “I THOUGHT YOU SHIPPED THIS LIKE ME! AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!”
“I WAS trying to make it happen, March!” you cackled, blocking her throw with your arm. “but you’re crazy lady.”
“Because SOMEBODY has to!”
The room became a flurry of feathers and yells, the floor littered with fabric casualties. March screamed something about “romantic sabotage” while Caelus used a star shaped cushion as a shield and tried not to collapse from laughter. Eventually, panting and half buried beneath a pile of glittery pillows, March flopped onto her back.
“This isn’t over,” she wheezed. “You might’ve won the battle…”
You sat on the floor, leaning against her bedframe, heart light and cheeks aching from laughing too hard. March peeked at you with a sleepy, dramatic glare.
“Just admit you like him,” she muttered.
You grinned. “No comment.”
Caelus snorted. “So that’s a yes.”
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
The corridor was quiet, save for the distant, muffled thumps echoing from March’s room. Sunday padded down the hall in soft slippers, wrapped in a navy blue pajama set that still looked oddly regal despite the sleepy looseness of it. The collar was slightly askew, and his curls had lost their typical styling, falling gently across his forehead. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him toward the commotion curiosity, perhaps. Or maybe instinct.
The door to March’s room was open just enough. And there you were. Mid laugh, caught in the middle of a pillow war that had clearly escalated. Caelus was ducked behind a wardrobe like it was a bunker, March stood on her bed like a self declared queen of feathers, and you glorious in your pyjamas were twirling a pillow like a blade of justice.
Feathers floated through the air like snowflakes. Sunday didn’t move. He leaned against the doorframe, half in shadow, just out of your view. And he watched. And he smiled. He’d grown up in rooms where laughter felt rehearsed. Where joy was reserved for ceremonies, and everything had meaning, even the silence. He had known peace, yes but the kind that was still, stagnant. Like a pond reflecting stars instead of the sky itself.
Robin had always tried to shield him. Kept him wrapped in the comfort of his ideals, gave him a dream so beautiful he forgot what real light looked like. Messy, loud, brilliant life. The way your hair stuck to your cheek with sweat, the way your eyes gleamed as you dodged March’s wild throw, the unfiltered, unashamed joy in your voice as you shouted something absurd about “pillow fueled vengeance.”
He’d never seen experienced this feeling. Sunday’s heart thudded quietly in his chest, a rhythm that didn’t belong to the Family or any script he’d ever memorized. He liked that you weren’t afraid to be ridiculous. That you laughed freely. That you made others laugh.
He liked that you didn’t seem to carry your burdens in front of him not because they didn’t exist, but because you chose, for a moment, not to let them define you. he liked that when you were with your friends like this, you looked entirely untouchable. Unreachable. He wanted to reach anyway. But he stayed still. Let the moment stay yours. A feather floated past his cheek. Sunday blinked once, then quietly turned, retreating back down the hall before anyone noticed. He didn’t need to be in that moment to be part of it.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Feathers still drifted in your hair. Your arms ached from swinging pillows like weapons of mass destruction. March had declared herself “the rightful queen of shipwide shipping” before collapsing in a pile of her own making, and Caelus was last seen crawling down the hallway muttering something about betrayal and glitter.
You didn’t make it to your room. Your legs had carried you halfway down the train, and then… gave up. The Parlor Car welcomed you with soft lights and the hush of starlight outside the window. It was quiet here. Peaceful. And most importantly there was a couch.
You barely noticed the figure already sitting there. You just dropped into the opposite end of the long velvet seat with a graceless thump, curling onto your side and sighing like the soul had been knocked out of you. Your hair stuck to your forehead. Your shirt was rumpled. You didn’t even bother taking off your socks.
Sleep claimed you within seconds. Sunday, seated near the center of the couch with a book resting gently across his lap, blinked slowly. He hadn’t even heard you come in. His eyes drifted from the page, tracing over your sleeping form. The way your chest rose and fell. The faint smudge of pillow war aftermath still clinging to your cheek. One of your shoes had fallen off somewhere on the way in your foot dangled off the edge of the couch, sock half hanging.
You looked peaceful. He closed the book without a sound. He stood, quietly padded over to the small linen cabinet near the entrance of the car, and pulled out a soft, navy blue blanket. One of Himeko’s spares, likely. He unfolded it carefully, draped it over you from shoulders to toes, and adjusted it so it wouldn’t slip off during the night.
Then he knelt beside the couch, brushing a stray feather from your hair with a light, careful touch. in a voice only the walls heard, he murmured,
“Sleep well. May your dreams never be burdens.”
He lingered for a moment, hand resting just beside your shoulder. Then he moved to the nearby armchair, sat down, and tilted his head toward the stars just outside the wide train windows. His book remained unopened in his lap, forgotten. He didn’t need it. Tonight, the soft rhythm of your breathing was enough.
A soft hum of a show’s theme song filled your dimly lit room, accompanied by the glow of your laptop screen. You were bundled up like a burrito under a heavy blanket, comfortably settled into your bed, and very much unwilling to leave. It was one of those nights—you had zero interest in going out, zero interest in moving, and definitely zero interest in whatever plan Phainon had cooked up this time.
Unfortunately, you had a certain overly enthusiastic Spider-Man who didn’t believe in personal space.
A familiar knock on your window made your eye twitch.
“[NAMEEE]!!! Open up!”
You buried yourself deeper under the blanket. “Go away.”
“But I just got here! And you didn’t even look at me yet!” Phainon whined from the other side, knocking dramatically. “C’mon, you love looking at me.”
“No, I don’t.”
A beat of silence. Then, the click of your window unlocking.
Your heart sank.
“Did you— Phainon!”
With a triumphant ha-ha! Phainon pushed your window open and gracefully slipped into your room. His Spider-Man suit—black, white, and blue with elegant gold accents—hugged his form perfectly, and his mask was pulled halfway up, revealing his ever-so-cheerful face with that boyish grin. His cerulean blue eyes sparkled mischievously as he waltzed right over to your bed.
“I knew you’d leave it unlocked for me,” he chirped.
“That was an accident.”
He dramatically gasped. “Oh, so you don’t want me here? How cruel!”
You rolled your eyes. “Phainon, it’s my night off. I just wanna watch my show in peace.”
Phainon, naturally, ignored your plea for solitude and flopped onto your bed, making himself right at home. He rested his chin on his palm, tilting his head at your laptop. “Whatcha watchin’?”
“Something you don’t care about.”
“Orrrrr,” he drawled, poking your blanketed form, “I do care, because I care about you. Which means your interests are my interests.”
“Lies.”
“Betrayal!” He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest like you’d just stabbed him. “Here I am, your bestest friend—”
“Self-proclaimed.”
“—who just wants to share quality time with you,” he continued, completely ignoring your interruption, “and you reject me? After all the cool crime-fighting I did today?”
You turned to him with an unimpressed look. “Phainon, if you don’t let me enjoy my show, I will literally punch you.”
“Joke’s on you, I’m into that,” he quipped.
“OH MY GOD—”
Before you could retaliate, Phainon swiftly yanked the blanket off you in one motion. You yelped as cold air hit your skin.
“PHAINON, I SWEAR—”
But the menace wasn’t done yet. Before you could crawl back under the covers, he scooped you up in his arms, bridal style.
“Time to goooooo!” he announced cheerfully.
“What the— PUT ME DOWN!” You struggled in his grip, but he held you tight, effortlessly standing up.
“You had your chance,” he teased. Then, with an absolutely mischievous grin—
He sprinted to the window.
“Phainon. No. NO—”
And jumped.
Your scream got swallowed by the night air as he shot a web toward the nearest skyscraper, the both of you swinging high above the city in an exhilarating rush of wind. Your arms clung around his neck instinctively as your stomach plummeted from the sudden movement.
“Phainon, I hate you SO MUCH—”
“Lies! You love me!” He laughed, effortlessly maneuvering between buildings, his movements graceful and precise. The golden accents on his suit glowed subtly under the city lights. “C’mon, [Name], don’t tell me this isn’t fun!”
You gritted your teeth. “I’m going to kill you.”
“That would be murder, and you’d miss me too much!”
You let out a strangled groan, burying your face into his shoulder. “Just—Just get this over with.”
“Aw, but we just started,” he pouted, but the way you clung to him made his grin widen. He loved it when you relied on him. When you held onto him like this, he felt like the most important person in your world.
He couldn’t get enough of it.
“Hold on tight, [Name]!” he chimed before dropping down from a building, making you scream again.
Phainon’s laugh echoed through the city as he swung with you through the skyline, his grip firm and secure.
You were never gonna get rid of this menace, were you?
The city blurred past in a whirlwind of neon lights and towering skyscrapers, the wind whipping through your hair as Phainon swung effortlessly through the skyline. You were still clutching onto him—your heart hammering from the initial rush—but there was no denying the way exhilaration bubbled in your chest.
“…So THEN—get this, [NAME]—this absolute idiot of a villain tried to rob a bank with a banana.”
You blinked. “A banana?”
“A banana,” Phainon confirmed, his voice practically vibrating with excitement. “Not even a fake gun, not a knife—just a plain ol’ banana. And the guy had the audacity to point it at people like he was in an action movie. Like, ‘Freeze! Hand over the cash!’”
“Oh my god.” You snorted. “Please tell me he slipped on it.”
“HE DID!” Phainon howled with laughter, almost missing a web shot. “Dude ran, tripped on his own banana peel, and knocked himself out cold! I barely even had to do anything!”
You cackled, gripping his suit tighter as he swung around a tall building. “Phai, what is your life?”
“Absolute cinema, dear,” he shot back, winking.
Your stomach did an unexpected flip.
It wasn’t just the wind rushing past you anymore—it was him. Phainon. His warmth, his voice, the way he held you so easily in his arms. Even as he soared through the air, he was relaxed, confident, completely in control. His cerulean blue eyes sparkled with mischief, even behind the shadows of his mask.
And god, that little smirk of his? Annoyingly attractive.
You shook the thought away. No. No way. This was Phainon. Your annoying, overly cheerful Spider-Man best friend who loved nothing more than dragging you into his chaos.
And yet—
“You okay?” Phainon glanced down at you, the breeze tousling his white hair slightly under his mask.
“Yeah.” You cleared your throat. “Just… thinking.”
“Thinking about how cool I am?” He waggled his eyebrows.
You deadpanned. “Thinking about how I should’ve stayed in bed.”
He gasped, dramatically offended. “Wow. You wound me.”
“Good.”
“Okay, you know what?” Phainon gave you a look, then suddenly loosened his grip on you.
Your stomach plummeted. “PHAI—”
He caught you immediately, laughing. “Relax, I gotcha!”
“You absolute menace—”
“Ohhh, says the one who’s clinging onto me like a koala,” he teased.
Your brain short-circuited at the comment. But you refused to let him win. Then you just give him the most fucking judgemental side eye ever before doing something incredibly stupid.
You let go.
With a mischievous grin, you pushed yourself off him, falling freely through the air. Wind roared past your ears, the city lights a dizzying blur as you plummeted. But instead of fear—
You laughed.
“C’mon, Phai! Catch me!”
“Oh, you little—” Phainon immediately shot a web toward you, diving after you with pure panic flashing in his cerulean eyes.
For the briefest moment, you saw something shift in his expression. Something raw. His usual lightheartedness cracked, replaced with something deeper, heavier—like his world would shatter if he didn’t catch you.
And then—
He caught you.
His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you flush against him as he shot another web and swung back up. Your heartbeat was wild—not just from the fall, but from the way Phainon was holding you. His grip was desperate, his breathing heavy.
“You,” he exhaled, voice lower than usual, “are insane.”
You smirked. “Takes one to know one.”
He let out a breathless laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. For a second—just a second—his gaze dipped to your lips.
Phainon landed smoothly on the rooftop of a tall building, his grip on you still lingering even after your feet touched the ground. The city sprawled beneath you, a sea of twinkling lights and distant sirens.
And yet, your focus was entirely on him.
He pulled back slightly, keeping one hand on your waist as if reluctant to let go. Then—
That damn wink.
Confident. Dorky. Absolutely Phainon.
“Wait five minutes.” He grinned, then leapt off the building without another word.
You blinked. “Phai—WHAT—”
But he was already gone, swinging downward toward the city streets.
You sighed, running a hand down your face. “This idiot…”
Exactly two minutes later, a soft thud landed behind you.
You turned—and wheeze-laughed on sight.
Phainon stood there, his Spider-Man suit completely gone, neatly folded in his arms. In its place, he wore a loose white T-shirt, slightly oversized, draping over his frame in a way that showed off his collarbones. Paired with black cargo pants, he looked effortlessly relaxed, like he hadn’t just been swinging around the city at terrifying speeds.
“You stole that outfit, didn’t you,” you deadpanned.
Phainon gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “EXCUSE me? [NAME], I am offended.”
“You absolutely stole it.”
He smirked. “Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did. Not.”
“Phai.” You gave him a knowing look. “There is no way you just had a fresh change of clothes on standby.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second.
“…Okay, technically, I just ‘borrowed’ them.”
You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Oh my god.”
“It’s fine! I paid for them with my charm.”
“You mean you confused the poor cashier with your chaotic rambling until they just let you take the clothes out of fear.”
He grinned way too proudly. “Works every time.”
You groaned again, but you couldn’t stop laughing. God, why was he like this?
Phainon just watched you with a lazy smirk, arms crossed, and you hated that it looked stupidly attractive. His hair was still slightly tousled from the wind, strands falling over his cerulean blue eyes—eyes that gleamed with mischief but also something warmer.
Something softer.
And the way his white T-shirt slid slightly off his shoulder? Not fair.
You clicked your tongue, looking away before your thoughts spiraled further. “You are the worst.”
“Aww, c’mon.” He nudged your side, stepping closer. “You love me.”
Your heart skipped.
But you just raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Debatable.”
Phainon gasped dramatically again. “Ouch.” Then, after a pause—he tilted his head with a lopsided grin.
“…So, are you coming willingly, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder?”
Your eyes narrowed. “Phai. Don’t you dare.”
His smirk widened. “No promises :).”
.
.
.
.
A mischievous glint flashed in your eyes as you stepped forward, rising onto your tiptoes. Phainon barely had time to react before you flicked his forehead, making him stumble back slightly with a surprised blink.
“Ow—HEY!” He pouted, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”
You smirked. “For dragging me out of my warm, comfortable bed and kidnapping me via rooftop parkour.”
Phainon gasped, placing a hand on his chest as if truly wounded. “Kidnap is such a strong word. I prefer the term ‘spontaneous adventure with a touch of reckless endangerment.’”
You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Spidey.” Then, tilting your head, you grinned. “Let’s go to McDonald’s. And you’re paying.”
Phainon blinked. “Wait—what?”
You patted his shoulder. “Because you forced me outside, and I’m hungry.”
He stared at you for a long moment. Then, in a completely serious tone, he muttered, “This is robbery.”
You shot him finger guns. “Yup.”
He groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “I can’t believe this. This is extortion. This is—”
“I will leave you on this rooftop,” you threatened, turning away.
Phainon immediately perked up, skipping to your side like a loyal puppy. “Fine, fine! Let’s go! But just so you know, this is coming out of my superhero budget.”
You gave him a look. “You don’t have a superhero budget.”
“…Okay, true, but if I did, this would definitely affect it.”
You simply smirked, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the nearest fire escape. “C’mon, before you start monologuing about your tragic financial struggles.”
As you both climbed down and started walking toward McDonald’s, the city was alive around you. Neon signs glowed in the distance, taxis honked impatiently, and the streets bustled with late-night wanderers. Phainon, now completely out of his Spider-Man persona, walked with an easygoing energy beside you—his white hair ruffled slightly by the breeze, his black cargo pants hanging just low enough to be unfairly attractive.
You hated how effortlessly cool he looked.
But he wasn’t cool at all.
Because he would not stop talking.
“And THEN—get this—this dude at the store earlier saw me swinging down in full costume, right?” Phainon launched into yet another one of his endless stories, hands waving animatedly. “And I swear to god, the first thing out of his mouth was, ‘Damn, Spider-Man’s built different.’”
You snorted. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”
Phainon smirked, striking a fake flex pose. “I am pretty built.”
You rolled your eyes. “You have noodle arms.”
He gasped in betrayal. “EXCUSE ME?! These arms carry you through the city at high velocity, Miss ‘C’mon, Phai, Catch Me.’”
You just smirked, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see those muscles in action when you carry the McDonald’s bags.”
“Oh my god, you are milking this.”
“Damn right I am.”
By the time you reached the McDonald’s entrance, the warm scent of fries and burgers filled the air, making your stomach growl. The place was still busy despite the late hour, a mix of students, late-shift workers, and other night owls filling the booths.
And then—
Right at the front counter, a bright red sign caught your eye.
“COUPLES GET 40% DISCOUNT.”
Your eyes gleamed.
Phainon, still in his own world, was stretching his arms, completely oblivious to your brilliant, devious plan.
Without missing a beat, you turned, grabbed his hand, and dragged him straight to the counter.
“Wha—?” Phainon stumbled forward, blinking as he suddenly found himself standing very close to you.
The cashier, a tired-looking teenager, barely glanced up before mumbling, “Welcome to McDonald’s. Are you two—” He paused, glancing at your intertwined hands, then at the bold discount sign behind him. “Oh, a couple?”
Phainon’s brain stalled.
“Wait—” He opened his mouth, eyes widening, but before he could protest—
You smirked, leaned in, and—
Pressed a soft kiss against his jawline.
Phainon froze.
Like. Literally.
He felt his throat tighten up, like a lock had been placed in his throat and the key had been thrown away. He felt like his heart stopped, Like— God you were going to be the absolute death of him.
And then before he even gets to recover himself a little bit, your lips barely left his skin before you shifted slightly, brushing another light kiss beside the corner of his lips.
“Yep, we’re a couple!” you chirped, completely unbothered. “I’ll have a large McNugget meal, extra fries, and a vanilla milkshake. And he’ll have… A large Big Mac, large fries, and an Oreo McFlurry, thank you."
The cashier hands you the receipt as you take it from her hand and drag Phainon's huge frozen body to the chair. After you seat yourself down and look beside yourself to see Phainon.
Only to find him stuck in place, malfunctioning.
His entire face was burning.
From the tip of his ears down to his neck, his skin was flushed a deep red. His cerulean eyes were wide, his lips parted, but no words came out. He wasn’t breathing.
He just stood there, completely frozen, staring straight ahead like he had just experienced a full system crash.
And then, Phainon made a noise. a small whimper as his left hand goes to his jawline, the exact same area where you had placed your soft lips on. He could still feel the warmth of your lips against his skin. The way you had leaned in without hesitation. The soft pressure against his jawline, the slight graze near his mouth—
His heart was hammering.
His brain was short-circuiting.
You kissed him.
The moment you stepped out of McDonald's, the crisp night air hit your skin, a pleasant contrast to the warm atmosphere inside. You cradled the McDonald's takeout bags in your arms, feeling victorious from your ingenious scam—the couple’s discount had worked flawlessly, and now you had free food and a flustered best friend in tow.
Speaking of flustered bestfriend—Phainon stepped out behind you, his movements stiff, shoulders hunched slightly, as if trying to fold in on himself.
And then—
The stares started.
People on the street, whether passing by, sitting on benches, or just minding their own business, suddenly turned their heads to look at him. Their gazes lingered, eyes darting between his face and his overall demeanor. Some exchanged amused glances, while others outright giggled as they passed.
A group of teenagers sitting by the sidewalk nudged each other, whispering and pointing directly at him. A woman, holding hands with her boyfriend, looked at Phainon, then at her own boyfriend—her eyes clearly saying why don’t you ever look like that when I kiss you?
It took you exactly two seconds to realize why.
Your lipstick marks were still there.
Still boldly visible on his jawline and beside his lips.
Phainon, in his post-flustered daze, hadn’t even wiped them off.
And now he was just standing there, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and black cargo pants, looking like an absolute wreck of a man who just got kissed senseless in public.
Oh. Oh, this was golden.
You opened your mouth, ready to tease him about it—but you never got the chance.
Because before you could even get a single word out, Phainon’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly as he suddenly dragged you forward.
“Wh—? Phainon—”
“Nope. Nope, no, absolutely not.” His voice was fast, frantic, as he swiftly maneuvered you both into a nearby alley.
You barely had time to tighten your hold on the McDonald's bags before Phainon’s arms locked around you—one arm securing your waist, the other ensuring the takeout wouldn’t drop.
And before you could protest—
Whoosh.
A strong, sudden force yanked you upward. The world blurred, a rush of air slicing past as Phainon swung you both up, up, up— the city lights below morphing into glowing smudges, the sounds of traffic turning into a distant hum.
Your stomach flipped, but exhilaration coursed through your veins instead of fear. The weightless feeling of being carried mid-air, of soaring, of being so high up with only Phainon’s grip anchoring you—it was thrilling in a way that made your heartbeat race.
Within seconds, Phainon landed smoothly on the rooftop, feet steady as he held you close for just a moment longer. The city stretched beneath you—lights blinking in rhythm, streets weaving like veins through the concrete jungle.
You let out a breathy laugh, looking up at him. “Damn, Phai. Could’ve given me a warning.”
Phainon, however, wasn’t looking at the city.
He was looking at you.
Still flustered. Still down bad.
His hands hadn’t moved. His arms were still wrapped around you. He was holding onto you like you’d disappear if he let go.
And his eyes. Oh god.
His cerulean eyes, usually bright and mischievous, were soft. Warm. A little dazed, like he still couldn’t process the fact that you had kissed him.
You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Still thinking about it, huh?”
Phainon blinked. Then—his arms tightened.
Like a dam finally breaking, he collapsed against you, burying his face into your shoulder.
A muffled groan escaped him.
“I’m literally going to die,” he mumbled against your skin. “You actually kissed me. In front of people.”
You chuckled, shifting slightly so the McDonald’s bags wouldn’t squish between you both. “Yeah, and?”
Phainon lifted his head just enough to glance at you, his lips parted like he wanted to say something—but instead of words, his forehead bumped against yours.
You stilled.
Your smirk faltered.
Oh. Oh.
This—this was new.
The playful, chaotic tension between you two had always been there, but this? This was different.
His breath was warm. His fingers, once gripping your waist firmly, now curled slightly, as if reluctant to let go. His eyes, up close, weren’t just flustered anymore—they held something deeper.
Something fond.
Something achingly, terrifyingly real.
“…I should be making fun of you right now,” you muttered, voice softer than you expected.
Phainon exhaled a laugh, his lips barely ghosting against your skin. “You should be.”
Silence stretched between you, thick with something heavy. Charged.
Then—suddenly—
Phainon moved.
Not away. Closer.
His arms shifted, fully wrapping around you. A hug. A full, desperate, clingy hug.
He buried his face into your neck, holding you like a man starved.
“…I don’t wanna let go,” he admitted, voice muffled, boyish, soft.
Your heart did a weird, traitorous thing.
“…Then don’t,” you murmured.
And he didn’t.
He stayed pressed against you, completely attached, a lovesick puppy in human form.
You snorted, patting his back with one hand. “You’re so clingy, Phai.”
“You made me like this,” he grumbled against your neck.
You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. “No, I think you were always like this.”
Phainon huffed dramatically but refused to move.
“Just… let me have this,” he muttered. “For like, five minutes.”
You exhaled, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot.”
Phainon nuzzled into your neck. “And yet, you kissed me.”
You groaned. “Shut up.”
He grinned. Didn’t shut up.
“…Do it again.”
His voice was soft, playful, but you could hear it. That little hint of hopeful longing. The barest trace of desperate wanting.
You snorted, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “Absolutely not.”
Phainon froze.
His playful grin faltered for a moment. His eyes widened slightly, processing your rejection as if you’d just broken his heart into five tragic pieces.
And then—he pouted.
Oh. Oh, no.
You were not prepared for full-sad-clingy-puppy-mode Phainon.
His bottom lip jutted out slightly, his brows furrowed, and his usual confident, cocky demeanor completely melted into pure, shameless, pathetic neediness.
“But whyyyy?” he whined, dramatically nuzzling into your neck again, refusing to be ignored. “You did it before. You can’t just kiss a man and then cruelly take it away.”
“Oh my god, stop.” You laughed, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.
He was completely latched onto you, arms locked, legs refusing to move, as if he’d become some kind of living, breathing, human-shaped magnet permanently stuck to you.
“You’re so clingy,” you groaned, but the amusement was clear in your voice.
Phainon huffed dramatically, his pout deepening. “And whose fault is that?”
“I dunno,” you teased, tilting your head. “Seems like a you problem.”
Phainon gasped, offended. “A me problem? A me problem?” He leaned closer, his nose brushing against your skin. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. You did this. You kissed me. You ruined me.”
You rolled your eyes. “I kissed you twice.”
“And yet,” Phainon sighed dramatically, gripping your waist tighter, “I am now a ruined man. Devastated. Completely in shambles. Unrecoverable.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m suffering.”
“You’re fine.”
“I’m not fine,” he declared, burying his face into your neck again. “I won’t be fine unless you kiss me again.”
You opened your mouth to protest—
But then he bit you.
Softly.
Lightly.
A small, almost teasing nip at the curve of your neck.
You immediately tensed.
Your breath hitched, a small shiver running down your spine.
Phainon stilled for a second, gauging your reaction—then, realizing you weren’t pushing him away, he did it again.
Another tiny bite.
Then—a slow, teasing drag of his lips over your skin.
Oh. Oh no.
Your grip on the McDonald’s bags tightened, fingers digging into the paper as heat rushed up to your face.
Phainon, the absolute menace, let out a low, smug hum against your skin.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he murmured, his voice mischievous, but softer this time. Lower.
You narrowed your eyes, trying not to show how flustered you actually were. “Phainon, I swear to god—”
“I swear to god, too,” he mimicked, grinning against your neck. “Swear to god you should kiss me again...Please baby :("
"Ugh c'mere"
Bonus part-
The second you and Phainon finally made it back to your apartment, barely stepping foot through the doorway, he was on you.
Immediately.
Like a damn puppy seeing its owner after a long day, he lunged, arms wide open, and tackled you onto the couch, wrapping himself around you like an oversized, overly affectionate weighted blanket.
“Finally, home!” he cheered, burying his face into your shoulder, grinning like an absolute fool.
You groaned, laughing, trying to pry him off, but he was stubborn as hell.
“Phainon, get off me.”
“No.”
“Get off me.”
“Absolutely not.”
His arms tightened, his legs tangled with yours, and now you were completely stuck, trapped beneath a very happy, very clingy human spider.
You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes. “You’re literally the most affectionate menace I’ve ever met.”
Phainon giggled, actually giggled, and nuzzled into your neck. “You love it.”
You let out a mock sigh, pretending to be exasperated. “Unfortunately, I do.”
At that, Phainon gasped dramatically, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide, sparkling cerulean eyes. “You admit it?”
You smirked. “I admit nothing.”
And with that, you did the unthinkable.
You flipped the script.
Without warning, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in so suddenly that he actually yelped.
“Oh?” Phainon blinked, caught completely off guard.
You grinned, wickedly.
“Two can play this game,” you murmured, voice low, teasing, challenging.
Phainon stared, and for the first time in a while, you had him on the defensive.
He barely had a second to react before you wiggled out of his grip, shoved him onto your bed, and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
“Wait—oh. Ohhh.” Phainon’s lips curled into a slow, cheeky smile. “Now, this is interesting.”
You ignored him, reaching over to your nearby vanity and grabbing something crucial.
Lipstick.
Bright. Bold. Unforgivingly pigmented.
Phainon tilted his head, curious. “What’s that fo—”
Before he could finish, you swiped it across your lips, coating them fully.
Phainon’s eyes flickered. His hands settled on your waist.
“Ohhh. I like where this is going,” he teased. “You finally gonna kiss me again?”
You grinned, devious.
Then—without warning—you attacked.
Not just one kiss.
A thousand.
You scattered kisses all over his face, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his jawline—everywhere.
Phainon yelped, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his body stiffening beneath you.
“Oh—oh my god—wait, wait, sweetie, [Name], hold on—”
You did not hold on.
You pressed another kiss onto the corner of his mouth.
Phainon let out a low whimper
And when you finally pulled back to admire your work, Phainon looked fully ruined.
His face was littered—completely, hopelessly covered in smudged lipstick marks.
And he was so flustered.
His eyes were hazy, his cheeks burning, and yet—that stupid, teasing, smug grin was still there.
He was grinning like an absolute menace, but oh god, he was absolutely, hopelessly down bad.
"Holy, sweetheart.” His voice was lower than before. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
You smirked, placing one final peck on his jaw before pulling away entirely.
“Well,” you said, grinning as you wiped excess lipstick off your mouth, “you kept begging for more kisses. Thought I’d be generous.”
Phainon laughed breathlessly, tilting his head up slightly. “Oh, I should beg more often, then.”
You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.
But as you tried to move off his lap, his grip tightened.
“…You know,” he murmured, voice slow, thoughtful, laced with something dangerously teasing, “You might have to take responsibility for what you’ve just done.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Phainon.”
He tilted his head, grinning.
His hands moved slightly, gripping your hips more firmly.
“What?” he said, all fake innocence.
“You are so annoying.”
“I’m also so in love with you.”
You froze.
Your heart skipped a beat.
You quickly shoved him back onto the bed, rolling over to the other side before he could see how red your face had just become.
Phainon laughed, loud and cheery, before pulling you back into his arms anyway.
sharing little phainon brainrots as a birthday gift to myself
phainon is the type of lover who wants you to consume all of him. he wants to melt on your skin, sink through your pores, and stay coursing through your veins so that every breathe you take, every blink of your eye, every twitch of your finger- he will be there to witness it.
along with the insatiable need to be in the crevices of your heart and mind every second of the day, comes with the lack of personal space.
he is in your space at every given opportunity, a hand on any part he can touch, body pressed against your side, back, front, the lingering warmth of his looming, protective figure is something of second nature by now. and when you turn to see the perpetrator of the gentle touch ghosting along your back, dancing and tracing the line of your spine, sending goosebumps down your skin, you'll be sure to see a very innocent phainon, who has a slight smile gracing his lips. then, he'll tilt his head to the left, as if asking if anything was wrong.
with him, there is no sense of 'going too far'.
he will buy out the local flower shop's stock for you, he would throw himself into the throes of a corrupt titan if you so wanted him to, he would lick the debris and dirt off your skin like a woeful puppy because he could not protect you from nikador's attacks.
after he returned home that night, laborious trial finally completed and coreflame within the hands of the chrysos heirs, he treated you as though you were made of glass despite the fact it was his body that was one step away from collapsing. fatigue clung to the bags under his eyes, his hands shook from the intensity of the battle, and he is not so unscathed himself yet he looked at you as if you were a wounded animal, eyes glossy and filled with emotion.
"i'm fine," you would try to reassure, but the furrow in his brows never did smooth over.
"so you keep saying." he murmurs, "but i'm not."
"of course you're not, you just defeated nikador-"
"that's not what i'm talking about," his interruption is gentle, it comes in the form of a large, warm hand wrapping around yours, grip tight and unrelenting, as if he was still trying to confirm you were with him. "you're hurt, and i couldn't do anything about it. you may claim to be okay, but i'm not, because i was not good enough to stop your pain."
"phainon-"
"-it is my duty to protect everything that is dear to me. i failed." he places a ghost of a kiss on the back of your hand, lingering there as his shoulders shake, revealing the true nature of his anxieties.
his grip that night is especially tight, never letting you stray too far while consoling him, demanding and vying for your attention. he eventually rests after hearing your voice drone on and on in his ear. it was the kind of incessant reassurance that he needed as he curled around you, his large, muscular figure acting like a shield from the outside world as he held you close.
his guiding light, his tether to reality, you hold so much power over him that you don't even realise you have, and if he manages to anger you, phainon crawls on his knees for your forgiveness. time heals, and he knows he needs to give you space so you can work through your emotions, but he's convinced he'll wither away to nothing unless you can look him in the eye again.
he's impatient, especially when it comes to you, he needs to know that you still love him, needs to know that you still want him, that you won't leave him with a permanent hole in his chest, and needs to know it all now. time heals, they say, but every second away from you is a dagger to his bleeding heart.
"y/n, your favourite fruits are here, we should buy some!" phainon suggests from behind you. "oh, and there are apples too, we should make apple pie, i've been really craving them recently, we can even give some to the others!"
he's rattling off in your ear about sharing a portion of the desserts with his fellow chrysos heirs, how tribbie, trianne, and tribios would love them, how mydei would scoff at his efforts but take it nonetheless, and something about lady agalea that you don't hear entirely.
because you're trying really hard not to snap at him with the snarky remark that's sitting on the tip of your tongue.
and it's worse because you know that he's aware of how upset you are, how you are still sensitive from the disagreement you had in private not too long ago, how you need space to think, a space where phainon can't intrude and talk your ear off.
but he is doing this- staying close to you, metaphorically and physically pressing in on your personal space because he needs your reassurance and validation. you know he's doing it out of love, so you're trying really hard to keep a level head so as to not explode, but he is just too insistent, too overwhelming, too everywhere.
"let me pay," phainon gives the right amount to the storeowner, and he takes the bags before you can even reach for them. "i'll carry them, too!"
"phainon," you murmur softly because you're afraid your voice will crack, yet, he hears it, spine straightening a little under your command. "i... i need some time. alone. sorry."
you don't see it, but his expression morphs into something unbearably upset, his bright blue eyes dulling and larger-than-life presence shrinking as he lets out a small sound of agreement, helplessly watching you walk away from him. a part of him hopes that you'll turn around and take it back, running back to him and his fragile heart that needs you. that feels like it's going to combust in his ribcage unless phainon runs after you and does everything he can to get you to forgive him.
the grief exuding off phainon is practically tangible, mixed with an immense sense of yearning as his heavy footsteps take him back home. he becomes a shell of who he is, even as people- young and old, women and men alike, come to talk to their favourite hero. his smile never reaches his eyes, the chipper tone of his voice diminished a little as his eyes helplessly scan everywhere for you, hoping just to catch a glimpse.
so until he can feel your hands on his face again, thumb caressing his cheek, he will feel uneasy, his stomach will churn, his chest feels like it will cave in, and his heart misses you so much it might as well jump out through his mouth and run to you instead.
sat on a chaise with his head in his hands, the door to his private quarters pushes open, and he feels hope zap him alive, ears and eyes anticipating any indication that you were finally, finally home.
"phainon?" his back immediately straightens at the call of his name, and without even a second thought, he scrambles up to see you at the entrance, almost knocking everything over at the prospect of being able to exist in your orbit again. he wants to see you, wants to be near you so sadness won't paralyse his being.
seeing you is like a breath of fresh air after fighting in the ruins of castrum kremnos.
"y/n, my light, i'll apologise a thousand times over, i'll fight thanatos if you wanted me to if it means you'll forgive-"
"-i forgive you." suddenly, his words get lodged in his throat, ears attuned to every word you have to say to him. "you were doing what you thought was best, i appreciate it, i appreciate your love and care for me, phainon."
pure bliss courses through his veins, and it warms him from the inside out, the light slowly returning to his eyes as a big, bright smile pulls at his lips.
happiness looks good on him, but you don't get to savour his expression before he pulls you flush against him, even lifting you into the air with his arms around your waist.
"i love you," he whispers against your neck as he holds you up effortlessly. "i would do anything for you."
"you're already everything, i don't need anything else. although... maybe try not to make decisions for me without asking first, because then we can avoid problems like this."
he nods enthusiastically, white hair tickling your neck, causing you to laugh, the sound healing all the cracks of sorrow in his heart.
