Feb 25, 2025
Telemarketing crying is so pookie! /j /lh
Also, thank you so much for the support on the last post! I have absolutely no idea where y’all spawned from, lmao- <3
seen from Guatemala
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seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Bolivia
seen from United States
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seen from Singapore
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seen from Vietnam
Telemarketing crying is so pookie! /j /lh
Also, thank you so much for the support on the last post! I have absolutely no idea where y’all spawned from, lmao- <3
hello! May I request some modern AU tele- tele a- FUCK! Telephone? Angst!
Telemarketers and reader are friends but the- WHATEVER THE FUCK HIS name is is head over heels so when he finally confessed he expects reader to feel the same but they don’t… AND HES COMPLETELY FINE! HAHAHA
A/n: Isn't this like the second angst I've done?? Wowza guys... Didn't know y'all were into depressed Telemachus but sure!
Warnings!: we hurt the pretty and cutesy boy...
~~~~🌀~~~~
It starts with something small.
It always does.
Late-night calls that stretch until neither of you are really talking anymore—just breathing, just existing, just… staying. Your name lighting up his phone like it means something more than it should. Like it means everything.
For Telemachus, it does.
It always has.
He knows the exact way your voice sounds when you’re smiling.
Knows how you say “wait, wait, wait—listen to this” before sending him the worst song he’s ever heard, and still—he listens. Every time. Saves them. Pretends they’re good.
He knows when you’re lying about being “fine.”
Knows when you just want someone there, even if you won’t say it.
And he’s always there.
Always.
It’s not sudden, the way he falls for you.
It’s slow.
Quiet.
Like something growing in the dark where no one can see it—until it’s too big to ignore.
Until it’s everything.
—
His friends notice before you do.
“You’re in love with them,” someone says casually, like it’s obvious.
“I’m not,” he answers too quickly.
“…You literally smiled at your phone for ten minutes straight.”
“I just—They said something funny.”
“What did they say?”
He hesitates.
“…I don’t even remember.”
That’s when it hits him.
Not the joke.
Not the words.
Just you.
Always just you.
—
He starts to think—maybe.
Maybe you feel it too.
You call him first. You text him good morning. You fall asleep on call with him more nights than not.
You say things like:
“God, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You get me better than anyone.”
“You’re my favorite person.”
And every time, something in his chest tightens, hopeful, terrified, alive.
Because what else could that mean?
He plans it.
Not in some grand, dramatic way.
Just… carefully.
He rewrites the message a dozen times before deleting it entirely. No, not over text. That’s stupid. You deserve better than that.
So he asks to meet.
You say yes immediately.
Of course you do.
You always do.
—
It’s cold that day.
Or maybe that’s just him.
He’s been rehearsing all morning, all afternoon, every second leading up to this. His hands won’t stop shaking.
“You okay?” you ask, when you see him.
“Yeah,” he lies.
You smile.
God.
That smile.
This is it.
—
“I need to tell you something.”
You tilt your head, curious, soft. “Okay…”
He swallows.
Everything in him is screaming—don’t do this, don’t ruin it, don’t lose them—
But he’s so tired of not saying it.
So tired of pretending this doesn’t exist.
“I like you.”
It comes out quieter than he meant.
“I—no, I don’t just like you, I—”
He exhales, shaky.
“I’m in love with you.”
Silence.
Just for a second.
But it stretches.
It stretches.
—
Your expression changes.
Not in a dramatic way. Not in some cruel, obvious rejection.
Just… softens.
And that’s worse.
That’s so much worse.
“…Oh.”
—
Oh.
Not me too.
Not I was hoping you’d say that.
Just—
Oh.
“I didn’t know,” you say gently.
And he nods, because of course you didn’t.
Of course.
Why would you?
He was careful. He made sure of it. Made sure you never felt pressured, never felt like you owed him something.
He did everything right.
So why does it feel like everything’s going wrong?
“I really, really care about you,” you continue, voice careful, like you’re handling something fragile.
Like you’re handling him.
“But… not like that.”
There it is.
Clean.
Clear.
Kind.
And it still hurts like something’s been ripped straight out of his chest.
He laughs.
And it sounds wrong.
“Yeah—yeah, no, that’s—That’s okay.”
It’s not.
It’s not okay.
But he says it anyway.
“Really, I just—I needed to tell you. That’s all.”
That’s not all.
It was never just that.
“I don’t want to lose you,” you say.
And that—that almost breaks him.
Because he wants to say:
You already did.
But he doesn’t.
He just nods.
“Yeah. Of course. You won’t.”
Another lie.
—
After, everything is… normal.
Or at least, it tries to be.
You still text him.
Still send him songs.
Still say “you’re my favorite person” like it doesn’t mean something entirely different now.
—
He stops answering right away.
Not on purpose.
He just… can’t.
Every message feels heavier. Every word from you feels like something he’s not allowed to hold onto anymore.
—
The calls stop first.
“Sorry, I’m tired tonight.”
“I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Maybe tomorrow?”
Tomorrow doesn’t come.
—
He still listens to the songs you send.
He just doesn’t tell you.
He rereads your old messages more than he should.
Scrolling back to things that used to feel like hope.
Now they just feel like… mistakes.
Misunderstandings.
Him reading too much into things that were never meant that way.
—
His friends notice again.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“No, seriously. What happened?”
He shrugs.
“Nothing.”
Everything.
—
He sees you one day, laughing with someone else.
It shouldn’t matter.
You’re allowed to laugh. You’re allowed to like other people.
He knew that.
He knows that.
But something inside him twists anyway, sharp and ugly and unfair.
He leaves before you can see him.
—
You text him later.
Hey, did I do something wrong?
He stares at it for a long time.
His fingers hover over the keyboard.
He could fix this.
He could say no, everything’s fine, I just needed time.
He could go back to being what you need.
What you’ve always needed.
—
He types:
No. You didn’t do anything.
Deletes it.
Types again:
I’m just busy.
Deletes that too.
—
Finally:
I think I need some space.
—
He doesn’t check his phone after sending it.
He can’t.
Because if you reply—
If you say okay, or worse, if you say you understand—
He’s not sure he won’t take it back.
Not sure he won’t choose the pain of staying over the emptiness of leaving.
—
Because even now—
Even like this—
If you asked him to stay?
He would.
In a heartbeat.
And that’s exactly why he has to go.
For Telemachus, loving you was never the problem.
It was loving you when you didn’t love him back.
And realizing that sometimes—
no matter how much you want it—
that doesn’t change anything at all.
For you ♡
༊*· Paring- Telemachus x gn!Reader (Fluff!)
༊*· Note- This might be ooc! The fighting scenes might be bad? I asked a friend of mine for ideas on how I should made them fight! The ending was rushed since I just need this done 😭 So this is NOT proofread!
Thanks for all the support on the first post about this work. It means so much to me guys! <3 If you liked this, please read my work about Hermes!
“Bite little wolf, bite!” Antinous and the other suitors yelled as he continued hitting the prince’s bloodied and bruised body. Telemachus felt weak, unable to defend himself, no one could defend him now. “Strike little wolf, strike!” They continued to yell as Telemachus continued to get harmed, unable to blow back on Antinous… Until the room echoed, a loud hit, straight to Antinous’ face. Telemachus flinched, his eyes flickering open. The figure in front of him… Their hair was all to familiar.. Y/N..?
“You’re so strong until someone ACTUALLY strikes back, aren’t you!” They shout, in between gritted teeth and clenched fists. Athena was slightly taken aback, she had wanted to help the boy… But it seems as if she wasn’t quick enough. Who is this..? “And who do you think you are hm? You’re probably weaker than him, what can you do to 108 men, let alone me. Huh?” Antinous growls, wiping off the slight blood that dripped from his nose. Their figure was small, who were they to be against what he was doing? Don’t they know who he is? Antinous carefully observes the scowl growing larger on their face. “Go on? Or do I have to hit the words out of you like him too?” Telemachus’ eyes widen, he couldn’t let Antinous hit you? Your parents would kill you if they see bruises on your face.
They exhaled the breath they were holding, staring at Antinous back, harder. “I’d like to see you try hit me! Because you can’t..!” A nervous chuckle, they were too confident. This won’t end well for them… But they have to, so they could finally leave Telemachus alone. Another second with silence from both sides, before Antinous’ fist met their chest. So we are doing this then! Great…
“Y/N? Are you okay? I-“ Telemachus placed a shaky hand on their shoulder, why couldn’t they just stay out of this? He could handle himself! “Telemachus, let me go.” Their eyes met with Telemachus, Antinous can’t get away with this now, but they can’t either.. His shaky hand reluctantly left their shoulder, holding his other arm out of worry now.
Antinous took another jab at them, only for them to duck under and swing back at his nose. Oh gods.. They’re really doing this! A sharp pain struck Antinous from the behind, again and again. Antinous’ teeth were practically cracking from how much he was gritting them, why couldn’t he turn around? He wasn’t going to let a measly weakling embarrass him to all the suitors. Antinous finally found the chance, to turn around and strike them now that their fists are tired. The suitor began to pummel them, his blood mixing into theirs.
Oh gods… They need my help! Athena transformed into an owl, instantly pecking at his legs, kicking him with her small feet, if she wasn’t a god this wouldn’t have done much… But.
Antinous fell over.. W-what? Y/N glanced over to Telemachus, who was just as clueless as them. However, the two knew it was their chance to run before he got up. Both of them ended up hiding in Telemachus’ room, entering through a passage underneath a statue of Athena by his mother’s room.
Shaky breaths echoed throughout his room, as if it were the only sound in all of Greece. Telemachus looked at them with frustrated eyes, “are you insane?!” He yells, they were seriously bloodied, for a fight they didn’t need to be apart of! “Maybe, maybe I am..! But you don’t think you are either for just letting him hit you? Telemachus he-“ The prince cut them off, “no Y/N. Listen! You’re seriously hurt, but for what reason? You could’ve just walked past!” Tension between the two quickly began to rise, the air was getting thicker.
“You- I-“ Y/N couldn’t even muster up a proper answer, things were going too quickly, and blood was still running down their face, and his too! The soft noise of Telemachus sighing ringed in her ears, like a reminder he was disappointed. “You’re so stupid..” Telemachus exhales whilst pulling them into a tight embrace, their blood staining his chiton. “Let me deal with Antinous myself next time..”
They clenched their fists, next time..? “No! I- I can’t let a ‘next time’ happen…” The prince pulled away, their reluctance was slowly getting to him. But he needed to fix things first before they could argue.
“Stay there..” Telemachus sighs again, walking towards his bathroom in hopes of finding bandages somewhere..? All Y/N could do was stand there, shoulders slumped as they stared down at the woven carpet. Minutes slowly passed, Telemachus was taking his sweet time. Y/N’s blood had by now made a small puddle in his carpet, staining it garnet.Telemachus shortly returned, his own bruises now concealed by bandages. A small first aid kit gently clenched in his hands, the prince looked down at his carpet and only sighed. “Sit on the bed before my entire carpet goes red…” They complied, doing as he said. The two still stayed silent, only hisses and slight seethes that came from Y/N as he cleaned their wounds. “Why’d you even do it..?” He whispers, looking up at their figure before continuing to bandage their hands.
“I know you.. Antinous is a bully, and he’s not a kind man. He needed to be humbled!” The boy let go of their now bandaged hand, slightly crouching to now work on their face whilst he listened. “You shouldn’t tolerate his behavio- Ow.. Easy on my nose..! That hurts like hell..” The more Telemachus pressed the cloth down onto their nose, the more they winced. “You’re not telling me the full truth, come on Y/N. Why did you do it.” Pressure on their nose only intensified as he spoke, “answer me… Please..?” Telemachus looked up, their faces were slightly close, only his hand in between them.
Moments passed before they opened their mouth, only to close it again. Y/N sighs, “Telemachus I’m doing this for you… I couldn’t just let him hurt you!” His eyes softened, for him..? Really..? A faint red glow began to creep up onto face, unable to now focus on the cloth he was pressing on their nose. Telemachus’ eyes held contact with theirs as he slightly moved forward. “For me..? You didn’t have to, now look what you did..!” They shakes their head, “I did have to. Antinous was going to hurt you.. It didn’t matter if I was going to be hurt! I’m sorry…” Their eyes slightly glimmer, Telemachus continues to move his head forward. His face now just inches away. “I couldn’t just watch Antinous hurt you.. Even if you can handle yourse-“ The prince’s lips met theirs, his hand that was once on her bloodied nose now on their waist, pulling them closer. He pulled away, a slight pant, “I- I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to do that!” Telemachus panicked, what if that just changed everything between them? Until, they pulled him closer again. “Gods…” The prince murmured, pulling away again, he felt hazy…
“You seriously need to stop cutting me off…” Y/N whispered, softly chuckling at his flustered face. Their nose had long been dry now, the warm hand that was once on it, now slightly squeezing their waist. “You’re insane.. Very stupid too…” Telemachus frowned, burying his face into their neck. “For you? Maybe I am.”
Thanks for reading! :D
<The lone wolf >
Odysseus , Telemachus & Vasileios belongs to @bigidiotenergytm
Odysseus Penelope and Telemachus belongs to @kdpartworks (idk if color them right but if I didn’t then I’m extremely sorry 😭🙏)
New year's day, New feelings 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚝.
~~~~✩~~~~
~~~~✩~~~~
New Year’s has always been at your house.
That’s the rule. The tradition. Christmas belongs to Telemachus’s family—warm, familiar, steeped in nostalgia—but New Year’s is yours. Your parents host, your house fills with noise and music and the smell of food meant to last past midnight. It’s supposed to be hopeful. Forward-looking.
This year, it feels like a countdown to something you can’t name.
You check your phone for the fourth time in under a minute.
Nothing.
No reply. No typing bubble. Not even a read receipt.
Your last message still sits there, stupid and bright and hopeful.
Can’t wait to see you tonight :) I miss you.
You’d sent it three days ago.
You swallow and lock your phone, pressing it face-down against your bed like it’s done something wrong. Your room is too quiet, despite the muffled sounds of preparation downstairs. Plates clinking. Your brother laughing with someone. Music being tested and rejected and tested again.
He kissed you.
That thought loops endlessly in your head.
It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a mistake. It was real—soft and careful and full of promise. You remember the way he’d smiled afterward, like something precious had finally been said out loud.
And then… silence.
You told yourself he was busy. That he was awkward. That maybe he didn’t know what to say next.
But each unanswered text chips away at that hope, leaving something brittle behind.
“Hey,” your brother says, knocking once before poking his head into your room. “They’ll be here soon.”
You nod. “Okay.”
He watches you for a second too long. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” you lie easily. “Just tired.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go. “Come down when you’re ready.”
When he leaves, you sit on the edge of your bed and stare at the wall.
Please show up, you think. Please don’t make me feel stupid for believing you.
The house fills quickly.
Laughter spills into every corner. Coats pile up near the door. The familiar chaos of family friends and traditions settles in, comforting and overwhelming all at once.
You help in the kitchen, moving on autopilot, smiling when spoken to, laughing when expected. Every few minutes, your eyes drift toward the door.
Nothing.
Then—voices rise near the entryway.
Your heart stutters.
You look up just in time to see Penelope step inside, elegant as ever, her expression warm but curious as she scans the room.
Behind her—
Telemachus.
Your breath catches.
For half a second, relief floods you so fast it almost knocks you over. He’s here. He came. Everything might still be okay.
Then you see her.
A girl at his side, her arm looped comfortably through his, fingers resting possessively against his sleeve. She leans in to whisper something to him, smiling up at his face like she belongs there.
He smiles back.
Not polite. Not distant.
Genuine.
Something inside you breaks so sharply you almost gasp.
Your brother notices immediately.
You don’t look away. You can’t. You watch as Penelope’s gaze flicks between you and Telemachus, her smile faltering just a fraction—shock, unmistakable. Then, carefully, painfully, she smooths it away and steps further into the house, greeting your parents like nothing is wrong.
Like this is normal.
Like you didn’t just have your heart torn open in your own living room.
Telemachus finally looks up.
Your eyes meet.
For a moment, something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe guilt—but it’s gone before you can name it. He lifts his hand in a small, awkward wave.
You don’t wave back.
You turn and walk into the kitchen before he can say anything.
Dinner tastes like ash.
You move food around your plate without eating, nodding along to conversation you’re barely hearing. The table is full—your family, his family, friends you’ve known your whole life.
And her.
She sits beside Telemachus, laughing easily, fitting into the space like she’s done this before. She touches his arm when she talks. He leans toward her without thinking.
You wonder if she knows.
If he told her about you. If he told her about the kiss under the mistletoe. If she’s just the next chapter, and you were a footnote he already forgot.
Your brother catches your eye across the table.
His expression softens.
Pity.
That’s what finally does it.
You drop your gaze, throat burning.
When dinner ends, you escape as soon as you can, murmuring something about needing air. Music starts up in the living room—something upbeat, something meant for dancing. Laughter swells.
It all feels wrong.
You make it halfway up the stairs before you hear your name.
“Wait.”
You stop.
Footsteps follow, quick and uneven.
“Please,” Telemachus says. “Can we talk?”
You don’t turn around.
“Not now.”
He hesitates. “I think we should.”
You laugh—a short, broken sound. “Of course you do.”
You continue up the stairs. He follows.
By the time you reach your room, your hands are shaking.
You close the door behind you and turn to face him.
Up close, he looks… nervous. Tired. His happiness from earlier has faded into something uncertain.
The sight only makes it worse.
“So,” you say, crossing your arms. “You brought a date.”
His brow furrows. “It’s not—”
“Don’t,” you snap. “Don’t start explaining like I’m stupid.”
He flinches.
“She’s just—”
“Does she know you kissed me?” you ask sharply.
Silence.
That’s answer enough.
You laugh again, bitter. “Wow. Okay. That’s impressive.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he insists. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Didn’t mean to what?” Your voice rises. “Lead me on? Ignore me for days? Show up with someone else like nothing happened?”
“I didn’t ignore you,” he says weakly.
“You didn’t answer,” you shoot back. “That’s the same thing.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“You could’ve said anything,” you say. “You could’ve said you changed your mind.”
He looks at you sharply. “I didn’t.—"
“Then what is she?” you demand.
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
That hesitation hurts more than any answer.
“You know what?” you say quietly. “Never mind. I get it.”
“You don’t,” he says desperately. “Please, just listen.”
You shake your head, tears finally spilling over. “No. I listened all through dinner. I watched you smile at her. I watched you look happy.”
“I was trying to be normal,” he says. “I didn’t want to make things awkward.”
“Congratulations,” you whisper. “You succeeded.”
He steps closer. “You’re being unfair.”
That word—unfair—snaps something inside you.
“Unfair?” you repeat. “I spent years loving you in silence. I finally tell you the truth, and you kiss me, and then you disappear. And I’m unfair?”
“I was scared,” he says. “I didn’t know if we’d ruin everything.”
“You already did,” you say. “Just not for you.”
His face crumples. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” you say fiercely. “Because you get to move on. You get to bring someone else into my house and act like I’m just—what? A friend who misread things?”
He shakes his head. “You’re not just a friend.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m nothing?” you cry.
Your hand came sharp on his face, it was like a moment of air being pulled from his throat. His hand brushed the red mark on his face.
You saw something flicker... Confusion? Rage?-—You were on the floor now, shocked and a bruise forming on your shoulder from the harsh push. For a second regret struck his face like a lightning bolt.
The silence hang heavy between you.
Telemachus looks at you like he’s seeing the damage for the first time.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says quietly.
“But you did,” you reply. “And the worst part is, I think you’ll convince yourself you didn’t.” You were fighting the tears in your eyes, your voice sounded weak, scared even.
“T—That’s not fair,” he says again, weak now.
You wipe your cheeks angrily. “You don’t get to decide what hurts me.”
Silence stretches. You stand up, even if every bone in your body hurts. What really hurt about this was that he didn't think twice before hurting you, maybe you were just too dense to notice it before.
From downstairs, the music swells, laughter rising as someone starts a countdown practice.
Telemachus takes a step back, like the fight has finally caught up to him.
“I should go,” he says.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “You should.”
He hesitates at the door. “I do care about you.”
You laugh bitterly. “That makes it worse.”
He leaves.
You sink onto your bed as the door clicks shut, chest aching like something vital has been ripped away.
Downstairs, someone cheers.
The new year is coming.
You’ve never felt more alone.
-
The countdown starts without you.
You’re standing near the edge of the living room, half-hidden behind a cluster of relatives, clutching a drink you haven’t touched. The lights are dimmer now, music louder, laughter sharper—everyone buzzing with anticipation.
You’re numb.
Across the room, Telemachus stands with her.
She’s pressed into his side like she belongs there. Like she’s always been there. Her fingers curl into his sleeve when someone bumps into them, and he adjusts without thinking, an arm coming around her waist in a way that feels practiced.
That’s what guts you.
Not that he brought her. Not even that he ignored your texts.
It’s how natural it looks.
Your brother appears beside you, silent. He doesn’t say anything—just hands you a fresh drink and squeezes your shoulder once before moving away. You don’t thank him. You don’t think you can speak.
“Ten!”
The room erupts.
You feel like you’re underwater.
“Nine!”
Telemachus laughs at something she says, head tilting down toward her. His smile is wide, real. Not the careful one he gave you earlier. This one reaches his eyes.
“Eight!”
Your chest feels tight. Wrong. Like your ribs are collapsing inward.
“Seven!”
You remember his hands shaking when he kissed you under the mistletoe. How careful he was. How soft.
“Six!”
You wonder how many girls he’s been careful with.
“Five!”
You swallow hard.
“Four!”
She turns toward him, already smiling, already expecting something.
“Three!”
Your heart starts pounding again, but this time it’s rage, not hope.
“Two!”
You lock your knees so you don’t collapse.
“One!”
The room explodes.
Cheers. Confetti. Noise.
And Telemachus kisses her.
It’s not soft.
It’s not hesitant.
It’s celebratory and easy and confident. His hand cups the back of her head like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like he’s done this before a hundred times.
The world goes silent.
You feel it then—the exact moment something inside you empties out completely. Not breaks. Breaks would imply pain.
This is worse.
This is absence.
You turn away before anyone can see your face.
You don’t remember climbing the stairs.
You don’t remember pushing through the hallway or opening your bedroom door. You only remember sitting on your bed, staring at the wall, breathing shallowly like if you inhale too deeply you’ll scream.
Voices drift up from downstairs. Music. Laughter.
Life continuing.
Your phone buzzes.
You look at it before you can stop yourself.
Telemachus: Can we talk?
You laugh out loud.
It sounds unhinged.
You don’t reply.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock—sharp, impatient.
“Open the door,” he says from the other side. “Please.”
You stand slowly, every movement heavy, and yank it open.
“What?” you snap.
He flinches, just slightly.
Up close, he looks flushed. Energized. Like he just celebrated something.
It makes you furious.
“You don’t get to say ‘please’ to me,” you say coldly. “Not after that.”
“After what?” he asks, defensive already.
You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. And there it is—the beginning of the end.
You laugh, sharp and humorless. “You kissed another girl in my fucking living room at midnight.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” he says, voice tight. “What did you expect me to do?”
That word hits like a slap.
“Your—” You choke on it. “Then what the hell was Christmas?”
His jaw tightens. “A mistake.”
The room spins.
“A mistake,” you repeat quietly.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he says, pushing forward now, frustration bleeding through. “I shouldn’t have crossed that line.”
“You kissed me first,” you shout. “You told me you liked me!”
“I told you I didn’t know,” he fires back. “And you took that and ran with it.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you say, voice shaking. “You don’t get to rewrite this.”
“I’m not rewriting anything,” he snaps. “I panicked. I needed time.”
“So you ignored me?” you demand. “You let me sit there like an idiot, waiting for a text that never came?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you!”
“You didn’t want to feel guilty,” you correct. “Big difference.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing your room like a trapped animal. “You’re not the only one with feelings, you know.”
“No,” you say bitterly. “But I’m the only one you didn’t give a choice.”
He turns on you. “I didn’t ask you to fall in love with me..do you know what's funny? That I kissed you just for the thrill. You think I liked you? The girl that has been on my ass for years? Who would. ”
That’s the cruelest thing he could’ve said.
Your chest caves in.
“... What,” you whisper. The tears building in your eyes + the lump building felt like you were being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach
Silence.
Then he scoffs. “You’re acting like I betrayed you.”
“You did,” you say simply. “You let me believe I mattered.”
He laughs, harsh. “You do matter.”
“Then why do I feel disposable?” you scream.
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
Again.
You hate that hesitation more than the insults.
“Get out,” you say.
“No,” he says stubbornly. “Not like this. It isn't my fault that you're so fucking upset about me not giving you attention for once! You're acting like bitch—"
“Get. Out,” you repeat, pointing to the door. “Go back downstairs. Go back to her. Pretend I don’t exist like you already have.”
“That’s not fair,” he snaps.
“I don’t give a shit about fair anymore!”
The word ripped out of you unchecked now.
“You know what hurts the most?” you say, tears spilling freely. “You weren’t even torn. You made your choice and didn’t have the decency to tell me.”
He stares at you, chest heaving. “I was trying to do the right thing.”
“You chose the easy thing,” you spit. “You always do.”
That one lands.
He goes very still.
“Fuck you,” he says quietly.
You smile, broken and furious. “Gladly.”
He turns and slams the door behind him.
You don’t go downstairs again.
You sit on your bed while the party rages on without you, listening to the sounds of a new year beginning—cheers, music, life.
Your phone buzzes once more.
You don’t look.
The empty feeling settles in fully now, heavy and permanent, like this is how it will always be: watching from the sidelines while the person you love chooses someone else.
Downstairs, Telemachus laughs.
Your brother enters the room, says nothing. Just hugs you. It took everything not to start hyperventilating.
And you realize, with a kind of sick clarity—
This is the year you stop waiting
Happy Birthday ♡ NOT FINISHED.
༊*·˚ Pairing- Telemachus x gn!Reader
༊*·˚ Note- I feel like you guys have been waiting too long, so here you guys go! It isn’t quite done yet, but I think you guys deserve this for waiting long enough. I just have been so busy lately. Unfortunately, my idea for this was SO long! I’m in the process of finding my notes for it, and once I do I’ll immediately begin to work again. Thank you so much for the continuous support throughout these past months, I am forever grateful people actually like my writing.
Enjoy reading, and thank you!! <3
Today marked the 20th anniversary of Odysseus being away from Ithaca, and Telemachus' birthday. The day wasn’t special to him no longer, it only held as a reminder that his father is still at sea.
Even as he walks through the halls of the castle, trying to get his mind off his father, suitors constantly taunt him. Telemachus wasn’t even sure if his mother remembered when his birthday was, nobody in Ithaca knows.
Until you entered his life. You changed everything.
Whenever you were around he wasn’t ‘The Prince of Ithaca,’ he was just, Telemachus. Especially, your Telemachus. But this entire day you had been missing..
He knew you had your own duties to do, but what if you forgot? What if you began to become like everyone else, slowly forgetting him, and this was just the first stage? It was getting dark too… No! He shouldn’t be thinking this way, you’re his girlfriend. You would remember, right..?
Right.
All his ‘what if’s’ began to dissipate when he heard someone knocking on his balcony doors four times. You remembered..? The prince quickly opened the doors, to see your hooded figure. “Dearest! Happy birthday..” They hugged him, their head buried in his neck. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner..”
Telemachus’ eyes soften at their apology, hugging them tighter as a response. “I didn’t think you would remember, love,” he mumbled into their warm embrace.
“Why would I forget?” Y/N pulls away, softly chuckling as they do, “I was just busy today with my duties so I could spend time with you tonight.” They pulled a small box from their cloak, Telemachus’ eyes felt drawn to it.
They softly hum, “it’s yours, it reminded me of you whilst I was shopping last week… But it’s not much, nor expensive either. ” It fell softly into his hands, Telemachus looked at his partner again before opening it. Inside the box was a thin gold chain, a small sword pendant in the middle.
“This.. This is gorgeous my love.. Gods I-..” He couldn’t even muster up the right words, this means everything to him, you mean everything to him. Even if it isn’t expensive, even if it isn’t grand. You got it specifically in thought of him..? “Thank you Y/N.” Telemachus softly smiled at them, how did the gods see him worthy enough of having you? The prince instantly clasped the necklace onto his neck.
Y/N giggled, “that isn’t the last one of my surprises Telemachus. Even if I was late to spend time with you today, we still have a few hours until midnight…” They took their cloak off, placing it around him instead, clasping the button to keep it on him. Telemachus watched as his lover pulled the hood up, curious to what their next ‘surprise’ might be.
He grins, “so, how do I look?” The prince showed off your cloak as if it was his own and it was brand new. “Very mysterious, my love!” Your giggles fill the room, sending instant butterflies to his stomach.
“The suitors are still downstairs, so we can’t exit normally. I hope you aren’t scared of heights love,” they hum. Scared of heights? What? The prince continued to stand still, watching you walk towards his balcony again. You looked back at him, gesturing for him to follow you.
Telemachus continued to observe you climb onto the railings of his balcony, his concern slowly growing. “Love? You could get hurt, what are you doing..?” You gave him a reassuring smile, but it couldn’t ease his worry. “You’re okay with jumping off, right?” His face dropped, jumping? What? You possibly couldn’t be serious about this, his balcony was what, many feet off the ground? Only bushes and grass below. He whisper-yelled in response, “why would I be okay with that?”
Your hum sang along with the wind, “can’t risk the suitors catching us, this is the only other way my love. Please trust me…” As concerned as Telemachus was, he still decided to trust you. You wouldn’t deliberately put the both of you in danger. “Welp! I’ll see you down there my love!” They waved to him, an encouraging grin still stretched across their face. You fell backwards, leaving him alone on the balcony wide-eyed and in horror.
“ARE YOU INSANE?!”
Telemachus’ anxious voice echoes, his eyes were glued shut, pretending you didn’t just throw yourself off the balcony willy-nilly. Your giggles from below reached back to him, oh thank the gods.. “Very! Now come down! I’ll catch you!” The prince stared at you in shock were you serious?
“Are.. Are you serious?” “Uhuh! Trust me, if I can’t catch you the bushes will!” “If I die before I even meet my father it’s on you..!!”
His breath shakes, looking down at your open arms. Telemachus quietly prayed, trying to calm his nerves. He couldn’t chicken out of this now.
“AAHHHHH!!!”
Telemachus’ life flashed before his eyes, then he looked down, oh gods. You weren’t even close?! The prince clenched the necklace, praying he wouldn’t die now. You’d catch him… You wouldn’t let him die right..? “Jump out of balconies often?” He heard you smirk, Telemachus eyes hesitantly opened. You were holding him bridal style, safely.. Oh thank the gods..!
His hair felt soft against the crook of your neck, Telemachus honestly expected this to be much harder… But your embrace made him feel better, his cheeks were practically on fire now. “No.. I do not.”
Your giggles soothed his panicked heart, “see? I wouldn’t let you die on your birthday. Especially not when I have an amazing night planned ahead.” A soft kiss pecks his lips, before you set the prince down. “Don’t let this get to you.” Telemachus huffs, crossing his arms on his chest, even if he was still obviously a blushing mess.
“Maybe I should be the prince, I would be amazing at saving princesses and damsels in distress!” “Sure you would..!” “Just admit you want to be ‘my princess’ tonight, love.”
The prince scoffs, snickering at your bravado. Well, he wouldn’t mind it, as long as you and him were together… “Well, where do you intend to take me?”
You smirked at him,
This is NOT finished. Read the note at the top for context!
Thank you for reading! :D
A mind entity that has become too sentient to be controlled
Desdemona TRUE intention..
The influence is now in full motion Telemachus is now letting go of his morals