[frostyresolve]

yvette ⁠❀𓂃 she/her ⸝⸝ ADULT ᵎᵎ sfw writing sideblog. infp & 6w5. forget the future, can we come closer? affiliated with @d1strict99. pull up your eyelids 𖥔 inbox open. status: semi-inactive. drowning in ichor and PHAINON's favour. i'm lost in your iris

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[frostyresolve]

not your average detective ꒰ ᝬ ashveil

trying to get him to open up, has got to be one of the toughest cases to crack yet. 1k words. slight ooc

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

“how do you do it?” your voice is quiet, curious in a way that feels far more dangerous than accusation ever could. you speak of justice and ideals like they belong to him, like he’s something grander than a man who hides behind half-smiles and borrowed convictions. “you talk like a caped crusader about justice,” you hum, almost fond. “like you’re meant to be out there saving the night.”

his fingers drift to the watch at his wrist, brushing over its worn edge in a reflex he never quite unlearned. always bracing, always waiting, as if the world might turn hostile at any second. like expecting bullets to rain down in a bar that smells like citrus cleaner and cheap alcohol. like pretending he’s always on the verge of a shootout instead of… this. ASHVEIL who gets flustered too easily, loses online arguments to children half his age, orders so much takeout it eats away at his already impressive debt, and once tripped over his own cane because someone laughed too loudly behind him.

“wow, you make me sound cool. what, do i get a tragic backstory montage too? slow piano music? you’re giving me too much credit,” he says, a breath of laughter curling around the words. “i don’t even own a cape.”

but you don’t laugh, tilting your head as your eyes linger in that careful, dissecting way that makes him feel as though you’re mapping every fracture he’s tried to hide.

“this is planarcadia,” you point out thoughtfully. “comic book characters come to life all the time. it’s not that far-fetched.” there’s doubt there, fleeting, but you brush it aside as you face him again. “you’re a mystery. the ipc doesn’t commission anyone without reason. especially not a detective whose advertisements are featured in the comedy section of furbobocom.”

his mouth twists despite himself. “hey. the comedy section has prestige.”

he shifts closer, turning fully toward you, grey eyes steady even as something uneasy coils beneath them. “i’m not a hero,” he starts off, hesitance disguised as poor nonchalance. “but i’m not a joke either. i’m… a middle-budget tragedy at best.”

you frown, it’s always like him to avoid or deflect. It’s infuriating how someone that sobbed over comics about a rocket chair could be a split personality. “that doesn’t answer anything.”

“story of my life.” he shrugs, hat nearly tipping off his head before he adjusts it back into place.

“that’s what confuses me,” you reiterate, folding your arms, unwilling to back down. “you’re neither. so who are you?”

for a moment, he leans back against the bar, breath slow and measured, as if he’s buying time. “an enigma,” ASHVEIL answers lightly. “even to myself.” then quieter, the humour thinning at the edges. “i’m a detective. i’m also…”

“lying?” you offer with a scoff. “hiding things from me?”

he exhales, long and tired, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “yes,” he admits. “all of it.” there’s no pride in the confession, only resignation. “not because i enjoy it.”

your shoulders sag, frustration softening into something heavier and more guilty. “it’s only complicated because you make it that way. i don’t care who you were before. where you came from. you could be a memetic virus for all i care.” maybe you’ve both had one too many drinks if you’re spilling secrets in a bar. “i care if you keep things from me that mattered to you.”

his hand stills.

“…you shouldn’t,” he whispers, the words sharper than he means. his gaze drifts toward the neon-lit street beyond the window, color bleeding across his profile. “you’d be in danger. and i’m not—” his thumb presses into the wolf pendant at his throat, grounding. “—i’m not doing that to you.”

“fine,” you huff, voice resolute. “then i’ll hire you as my bodyguard, you take odd commissions, right?” annoyance creases your brow before it gives way to honesty. “just don’t pretend you don’t care.”

his breath catches. the laugh he lets out is brittle, almost self-mocking. “who told you i didn’t?” the glass in his hand cracks under the pressure of his grip. “…that’s unfair,” ASHVEIL mutters, voice low. “you know i can’t lie about that.” when he looks at you again, his eyes are sharp and unbearably soft all at once. “of course i care. i always do. too much.”

“then don’t run,” you say gently. “run to me.”

the world seems to still around him. the hum of the tavern fades as he reaches for you, not to pull you closer, not to push you away, but to anchor himself in the warmth of your presence. like if he lets go, he’ll drift back into all the things he’s been avoiding. of starry skies streaked with gunfire like comets, blood seeping like ink through comic pages, names forgotten and left in footnotes in history rewritten by the victors.

“…fine,” he breathes, voice rough and almost petulant.

you blink in surprise, trying to hide the triumph in your smile and the grin that threatens to break through. “that was easy. don’t tell me you’ve gone soft.”

a quiet grumble escapes him. “don’t ruin it. i’m being vulnerable and generous today since you’re taking the tab.”

his fingers slip between yours beneath the table, tentative but steady, memorising the shape of your hand. “you asked me not to lie,” he murmurs. “i’m trying.”

“you don’t have to tell me everything,” you reply. “just promise you’ll still be you. my ASHVEIL.”

something flickers across his expression. maybe it’s fear, hope, or something raw. that is, before he smooths it over with a crooked smile like a wolf hiding secrets. “be your ASHVEIL?” he teases softly.

“i don’t remember signing that contract, but i don’t do discounts on commissions. so you should know what you’re signing up for.”

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2026. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

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[64mpg]

remember to love freely and also nothing lasts forever and also everything is worth trying and also forgive yourself

[frostyresolve]

not your average detective ꒰ ᝬ ashveil

trying to get him to open up, has got to be one of the toughest cases to crack yet. 1k words. slight ooc

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

“how do you do it?” your voice is quiet, curious in a way that feels far more dangerous than accusation ever could. you speak of justice and ideals like they belong to him, like he’s something grander than a man who hides behind half-smiles and borrowed convictions. “you talk like a caped crusader about justice,” you hum, almost fond. “like you’re meant to be out there saving the night.”

his fingers drift to the watch at his wrist, brushing over its worn edge in a reflex he never quite unlearned. always bracing, always waiting, as if the world might turn hostile at any second. like expecting bullets to rain down in a bar that smells like citrus cleaner and cheap alcohol. like pretending he’s always on the verge of a shootout instead of… this. ASHVEIL who gets flustered too easily, loses online arguments to children half his age, orders so much takeout it eats away at his already impressive debt, and once tripped over his own cane because someone laughed too loudly behind him.

“wow, you make me sound cool. what, do i get a tragic backstory montage too? slow piano music? you’re giving me too much credit,” he says, a breath of laughter curling around the words. “i don’t even own a cape.”

but you don’t laugh, tilting your head as your eyes linger in that careful, dissecting way that makes him feel as though you’re mapping every fracture he’s tried to hide.

“this is planarcadia,” you point out thoughtfully. “comic book characters come to life all the time. it’s not that far-fetched.” there’s doubt there, fleeting, but you brush it aside as you face him again. “you’re a mystery. the ipc doesn’t commission anyone without reason. especially not a detective whose advertisements are featured in the comedy section of furbobocom.”

his mouth twists despite himself. “hey. the comedy section has prestige.”

he shifts closer, turning fully toward you, grey eyes steady even as something uneasy coils beneath them. “i’m not a hero,” he starts off, hesitance disguised as poor nonchalance. “but i’m not a joke either. i’m… a middle-budget tragedy at best.”

you frown, it’s always like him to avoid or deflect. It’s infuriating how someone that sobbed over comics about a rocket chair could be a split personality. “that doesn’t answer anything.”

“story of my life.” he shrugs, hat nearly tipping off his head before he adjusts it back into place.

“that’s what confuses me,” you reiterate, folding your arms, unwilling to back down. “you’re neither. so who are you?”

for a moment, he leans back against the bar, breath slow and measured, as if he’s buying time. “an enigma,” ASHVEIL answers lightly. “even to myself.” then quieter, the humour thinning at the edges. “i’m a detective. i’m also…”

“lying?” you offer with a scoff. “hiding things from me?”

he exhales, long and tired, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “yes,” he admits. “all of it.” there’s no pride in the confession, only resignation. “not because i enjoy it.”

your shoulders sag, frustration softening into something heavier and more guilty. “it’s only complicated because you make it that way. i don’t care who you were before. where you came from. you could be a memetic virus for all i care.” maybe you’ve both had one too many drinks if you’re spilling secrets in a bar. “i care if you keep things from me that mattered to you.”

his hand stills.

“…you shouldn’t,” he whispers, the words sharper than he means. his gaze drifts toward the neon-lit street beyond the window, color bleeding across his profile. “you’d be in danger. and i’m not—” his thumb presses into the wolf pendant at his throat, grounding. “—i’m not doing that to you.”

“fine,” you huff, voice resolute. “then i’ll hire you as my bodyguard, you take odd commissions, right?” annoyance creases your brow before it gives way to honesty. “just don’t pretend you don’t care.”

his breath catches. the laugh he lets out is brittle, almost self-mocking. “who told you i didn’t?” the glass in his hand cracks under the pressure of his grip. “…that’s unfair,” ASHVEIL mutters, voice low. “you know i can’t lie about that.” when he looks at you again, his eyes are sharp and unbearably soft all at once. “of course i care. i always do. too much.”

“then don’t run,” you say gently. “run to me.”

the world seems to still around him. the hum of the tavern fades as he reaches for you, not to pull you closer, not to push you away, but to anchor himself in the warmth of your presence. like if he lets go, he’ll drift back into all the things he’s been avoiding. of starry skies streaked with gunfire like comets, blood seeping like ink through comic pages, names forgotten and left in footnotes in history rewritten by the victors.

“…fine,” he breathes, voice rough and almost petulant.

you blink in surprise, trying to hide the triumph in your smile and the grin that threatens to break through. “that was easy. don’t tell me you’ve gone soft.”

a quiet grumble escapes him. “don’t ruin it. i’m being vulnerable and generous today since you’re taking the tab.”

his fingers slip between yours beneath the table, tentative but steady, memorising the shape of your hand. “you asked me not to lie,” he murmurs. “i’m trying.”

“you don’t have to tell me everything,” you reply. “just promise you’ll still be you. my ASHVEIL.”

something flickers across his expression. maybe it’s fear, hope, or something raw. that is, before he smooths it over with a crooked smile like a wolf hiding secrets. “be your ASHVEIL?” he teases softly.

“i don’t remember signing that contract, but i don’t do discounts on commissions. so you should know what you’re signing up for.”

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2026. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[frostyresolve]

33,550,336 ꒰ ᝬ phainon

heaven feels out of reach from the depths of hell, and the devil can only long to feel the sunshine. spoilers for 3.3 trailblaze mission: the fall at dawn’s rise. 1k words. angst. promises.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

the view of heaven has always been beautiful, especially when his feet stand firmly planted in the lines of black code that’s hell. the moon mourns the warmth only the sun has and the light it brings.

he always looks pained, something that weighs down on his conscience. a kind of guilt that lingers deep below, one that’s taken root in the crevices of his chest and expanded, grown outwards like a weed. PHAINON never speaks up, tells you the true reason why his expression contorts so, or why his hands shake whenever he touches you. or why he whispers your name like a praise or a secret only he’s allowed to know.

when you tilt your head and a pout forms on your lips at his deflection of a proper answer, he can’t resist the urge to lean forward and kiss it away. almost.

he resigns himself to rubbing your thumb absentmindedly against your hand. the weight of his burdens feels heavier than ever under the scrutiny of your curious gaze. three times has he felt like caving in to you, and two times he has decided to tell you the truth, one was when your gold had stained his skin inside out and he couldn’t scrub the image of you out of his eyeballs.

“i love you 33,550,335.” he whispers, his voice low and shaky. the same number of cycles he’s met, loved, and lost you. but you don’t notice the tremor, how the tone of his voice is an octave lower. the tears that spill evaporate almost instantaneously into steam. he can’t even be vulnerable with you, he realises, what a cruel twist of fate.

“such a specific number. you can just say, i love you more. unless…the deliverer is afraid of a little competition, that is.”

he lets out a small huff of laughter, unable to help himself. your question, delivered with your cheek brushing against his shoulder, brings a faint smile to his lips. it’s so simple, yet so you. he turns his head to look at you, taking in the sight of you near him. the warmth in your touch, the quiet comfort of your presence—it takes all his willpower to maintain the facade.

"you loving me the most?" PHAINON echoes, voice tinged with a trace of playfulness. "bold claim."

“then… what about 33,550,336. will you still love me then? and the one after that?”

his expression softens as he understands the challenge in your gestures. he knows exactly what you were doing. you were testing him, teasing him. and like the hopeless fool he was, he’d fall back into your traps if it meant that he’d be able to soak up every moment he could with you.

a small scoff leaves his lips, more fond than annoyed. so he raises an eyebrow, feigning an air of nonchalance.

"is that a trick question?" he scoffs, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile that could chase storm clouds away. "of course i will. and the one after that, and after that, and after that—“

you’re yanked closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as if trying to keep you firmly in his grasp. with each repetition of his words, he peppers your face with gentle kisses, like whispers of reassurance. his lips brush against your skin like butterfly wings, trails of warmth everywhere they touched.

"you do realize, of course, that you're making me promise... well, a lot of love, right?" his words were punctuated by more soft kisses, a low murmur that escaped his lips.

a simple grin and a giggle is all that you need to get him down on his knees. “you’re made out of love practically.”

his breath hitches as you pull him off-balance, and PHAINON finds himself sprawled half on top of you, his legs tangled with yours, his palm coming up to cup the back of your head to soften the blow of falling to the ground. the sudden proximity is dizzying, your chests pressed together and noses touching. it’s a sensation that he’s felt more than 33 million times, one he’s craved for so long, yet it never fails to make his chest flutter.

he can't help but let out a half-chuckle, half-gasp at your comment, "made out of love, huh?"

the irony wasn't lost on him. if only you knew how far from the truth you were, how many times he’s held you lifeless in his arms, or the destruction that trails in his wake.

and so he drinks you in like he’s never seen the light of day itself. lips crushed against yours desperately like he’s inhaling oxygen, a mess of breaths and emotions he can’t quite decipher. him, made of love that’ll destroy you. hands brushing every inch of you as if trying to map you. he’s memorised you long ago, the sounds you’d make, the feeling of your skin against his more than 30 million cycles ago.

when the sky turns red and the black tide swallows all, he knows he’s failed to herald a new dawn, your dreams along with those of so many other lost voices weighing on his shoulders. what keeps him going is you. your smile that’s clawed into his eyes, your voice in his ribs, the heart that he rips out of his chest every transformation that beats only for you.

but he can’t help but feel that this is the last time he’ll see you, but won’t say goodbye for now. he’ll kiss you until you’re out of breath, hold you even when his arms ache, and talk until his voice is hoarse.

the sun will shine down on the two of you again someday, and the miracle of amphoreus shall herald a new dawn, one with you by his side. he’ll be able to promise his tomorrows, his forever to you then. but for now, PHAINON will try again, no matter how long it takes.

thirty-three million, five hundred and fifty thousand, three hundred and thirty-six times.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[frostyresolve]

33,550,336 ꒰ ᝬ phainon

heaven feels out of reach from the depths of hell, and the devil can only long to feel the sunshine. spoilers for 3.3 trailblaze mission: the fall at dawn’s rise. 1k words. angst. promises.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

the view of heaven has always been beautiful, especially when his feet stand firmly planted in the lines of black code that’s hell. the moon mourns the warmth only the sun has and the light it brings.

he always looks pained, something that weighs down on his conscience. a kind of guilt that lingers deep below, one that’s taken root in the crevices of his chest and expanded, grown outwards like a weed. PHAINON never speaks up, tells you the true reason why his expression contorts so, or why his hands shake whenever he touches you. or why he whispers your name like a praise or a secret only he’s allowed to know.

when you tilt your head and a pout forms on your lips at his deflection of a proper answer, he can’t resist the urge to lean forward and kiss it away. almost.

he resigns himself to rubbing your thumb absentmindedly against your hand. the weight of his burdens feels heavier than ever under the scrutiny of your curious gaze. three times has he felt like caving in to you, and two times he has decided to tell you the truth, one was when your gold had stained his skin inside out and he couldn’t scrub the image of you out of his eyeballs.

“i love you 33,550,335.” he whispers, his voice low and shaky. the same number of cycles he’s met, loved, and lost you. but you don’t notice the tremor, how the tone of his voice is an octave lower. the tears that spill evaporate almost instantaneously into steam. he can’t even be vulnerable with you, he realises, what a cruel twist of fate.

“such a specific number. you can just say, i love you more. unless…the deliverer is afraid of a little competition, that is.”

he lets out a small huff of laughter, unable to help himself. your question, delivered with your cheek brushing against his shoulder, brings a faint smile to his lips. it’s so simple, yet so you. he turns his head to look at you, taking in the sight of you near him. the warmth in your touch, the quiet comfort of your presence—it takes all his willpower to maintain the facade.

"you loving me the most?" PHAINON echoes, voice tinged with a trace of playfulness. "bold claim."

“then… what about 33,550,336. will you still love me then? and the one after that?”

his expression softens as he understands the challenge in your gestures. he knows exactly what you were doing. you were testing him, teasing him. and like the hopeless fool he was, he’d fall back into your traps if it meant that he’d be able to soak up every moment he could with you.

a small scoff leaves his lips, more fond than annoyed. so he raises an eyebrow, feigning an air of nonchalance.

"is that a trick question?" he scoffs, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile that could chase storm clouds away. "of course i will. and the one after that, and after that, and after that—“

you’re yanked closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as if trying to keep you firmly in his grasp. with each repetition of his words, he peppers your face with gentle kisses, like whispers of reassurance. his lips brush against your skin like butterfly wings, trails of warmth everywhere they touched.

"you do realize, of course, that you're making me promise... well, a lot of love, right?" his words were punctuated by more soft kisses, a low murmur that escaped his lips.

a simple grin and a giggle is all that you need to get him down on his knees. “you’re made out of love practically.”

his breath hitches as you pull him off-balance, and PHAINON finds himself sprawled half on top of you, his legs tangled with yours, his palm coming up to cup the back of your head to soften the blow of falling to the ground. the sudden proximity is dizzying, your chests pressed together and noses touching. it’s a sensation that he’s felt more than 33 million times, one he’s craved for so long, yet it never fails to make his chest flutter.

he can't help but let out a half-chuckle, half-gasp at your comment, "made out of love, huh?"

the irony wasn't lost on him. if only you knew how far from the truth you were, how many times he’s held you lifeless in his arms, or the destruction that trails in his wake.

and so he drinks you in like he’s never seen the light of day itself. lips crushed against yours desperately like he’s inhaling oxygen, a mess of breaths and emotions he can’t quite decipher. him, made of love that’ll destroy you. hands brushing every inch of you as if trying to map you. he’s memorised you long ago, the sounds you’d make, the feeling of your skin against his more than 30 million cycles ago.

when the sky turns red and the black tide swallows all, he knows he’s failed to herald a new dawn, your dreams along with those of so many other lost voices weighing on his shoulders. what keeps him going is you. your smile that’s clawed into his eyes, your voice in his ribs, the heart that he rips out of his chest every transformation that beats only for you.

but he can’t help but feel that this is the last time he’ll see you, but won’t say goodbye for now. he’ll kiss you until you’re out of breath, hold you even when his arms ache, and talk until his voice is hoarse.

the sun will shine down on the two of you again someday, and the miracle of amphoreus shall herald a new dawn, one with you by his side. he’ll be able to promise his tomorrows, his forever to you then. but for now, PHAINON will try again, no matter how long it takes.

thirty-three million, five hundred and fifty thousand, three hundred and thirty-six times.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[frostyresolve]

washed away by the tides ꒰ ᝬ amphoreus men

you live on in the shards scattered around amphoreus. spoilers for 3.3 trailblaze mission: the fall at dawn’s rise. features phainon, mydei and anaxa. 2.7k words. angst. fluff.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

“only the best for you," he says jokingly, stepping into the elevator and pulling you along with him. you’ve been a victim to his ideas before. secret moments in between his daily patrols, seen him in the most atrocious of outfits that he declares the pinnacle of fashion, watch him haggle for hours over an artifact. sneaking into the bathhouse after hours wasn’t really a crime, just something that was frowned upon. but being somewhere you shouldn’t was an entirely different story. 

you’re staring at PHAINON in disbelief, mouth parting slightly as he practically forces you in along with him. you shouldn’t be here, you feel; the hero’s bath was reserved for chrysos heirs and you most definitely were not one. your gaze is questioning, almost, unsure if he was breaking a rule by bringing you with him.

“the hero’s bath?” your breath hitches as the elevator ascends. immediately you think of the consequences of getting caught; you’d probably be breaking an unspoken law by being here without the permission of the lady goldweaver. 

he catches your questioning gaze, noticing the disbelief and uncertainty in your expression, chuckling softly at your questioning expression, and squeezes your hand reassuringly. "don’t worry; i’m allowed to bring guests. besides, i’m the only one here right now, so no harm in having some company."

it’s quiet and ambient without the sounds of the other patrons, only the two of you here. the water looks almost magical, tiny gold flecks shimmering beneath the surface. the tranquil atmosphere is a stark contrast to the crowded main bath area, and he enjoys having the entire place to himself. he’s even more gorgeous you realise suddenly when he beams at you, you don’t mind getting lectured now, if it means he’ll smile at you like you’re his world. 

looking at you with a cheeky grin, he sheds his tunic and enters the pool, the water lapping at his waist. "are you coming in?" he teases.

when you finally emerge from behind the shade, he takes in the sight of you, sitting at the edge of the pool, with your toes touching the water. with a teasing glint in his eyes, PHAINON pads over to you and stops by the edge, his hands on either side of your thighs. so he inches even more closer to the edge of the pool where you are, resting his chin on your knee and looking up at you with feigned innocence. instinctively your palm reaches out to cup his face; his cheeks puff at the gesture of affection. only to you would he melt in your hands, the blazing sun destined to rise now the moon aching for the presence of warmth.

he leans into your soothing motions as you thread your fingers through his wet hair, a small shiver running down his spine. you could’ve sworn the low hum rumbling in his throat sounds like a purr or maybe a moan, you’re not too sure with the sound of water rushing from the waterfalls. closing his eyes for a moment, savouring the feeling of your touch before opening them again, his gaze fixes on you. 

he clears his throat, beautiful ocean eyes sparkling in the night like stars in the sky, wet hair covering his gaze before your other hand gently brushes it away.

"it isn’t fair, i know," he says suddenly, the conflict in his voice palpable, catching you off guard from the sudden turn of a conversation. "but please, believe me when i say that my heart is yours."

you’re quick to reassure him, thumbs rubbing gentle circles onto his dimples as if soothing him with your mere touch alone. “i don’t doubt you for a second. so…don’t take it upon yourself to hold the weight of the world alone. i’m here if you ever need anything.”

he nods, his voice taking a tone that was gentle but yet intense. "i know you do," PHAINON whispers, his voice soft but firm. "and i’ll always be grateful for it. but i wish it could be different—that i could promise you more than just my heart."

“you’ve given me your time; that’s more than enough to me.” your words cut deep through your shared bond. his expression falters at the implication of your silent affirmations, so you take it upon yourself to turn that frown upside down.

so you splash water at him playfully, and he sputters as he’s caught off guard, water spraying his already damp hair, looking more like a wet puppy as he pouts at you. before he retaliates, of course, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in with him.

you shriek while PHAINON laughs, a husky yet melodious sound that echoes through the empty bathhouse. for just a second, everything feels perfect when your eyes meet his, the purest blue you’ve ever seen, and his lips touch yours reverently.

══════════════════

“actually, i was wondering if you could try this. was thinking about replicating your own, but i think it's about the same.” you perk up, pulling out a plate of honey cakes coloured pink from behind your back, the same he usually prides himself with baking.

his golden eyes fixate on the pink-tinted honey cakes that you're presenting to MYDEI, his features subtly shifting to a state of perplexity and caution. a small wrinkle appears on his usually smooth forehead.

he observes the pastry with wariness, the sudden feeling of dread sending a chilling sensation down his tenth thoracic vertebrae. "i see," he begins slowly, his voice a mere hum, "where did you obtain these?"

“i made them, of course.” you’re a little puzzled now by his reaction, sparing a glance at the honey cakes before turning back to him.

“you made them?” he reiterates, his response tinged with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite fathom the words you were speaking.

with slight hesitation, he picks up a honey cake from the plate, observing its appearance with a mixture of curiosity and caution. sniffing it carefully like a chimera cat, it smells the same as the ones he’d make.

yet, something nagged at him.

“tell me," MYDEI continues, his voice stern, “what did you add to these cakes?”

“pomegranate milk like you usually do? i know you like your treats pink.” you’re getting more confused by the minute, unsure why he was acting so off. guarded as if he was facing a titankin and not a plate of desserts.

“why don’t you try them? i really want to get your input.” you press on, looking at him intently as you hold the plate out to him.

his eyes harden at your insistence. sighing and looking at the pastries, he knew you meant no harm, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to doubt you.

“alright.” he relents, picking up one of the pink cakes and taking a tentative bite, his expression unreadable.

it’s like an assault on his taste buds. he’s died before, multiple times. that’s the reason why one of his many names was ‘MYDEIMOS the undying’, but he thinks this, has been the closest to actual irreversible and absolute death that he will ever get. instantaneously, his jaw locks as if preventing him from taking another bite.

his mouth is dry from the horrendous flavour that attacks his tongue, and the lump in his throat makes it difficult to swallow. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tries to eradicate the taste that lingers there, only to be left with a nauseatingly sweet aftertaste that clings to the inside of his cheeks.

you look at him expectantly, eyes sparkling innocently as you wait for his opinion, oblivious to the fact that you nearly sent him alone to the sea of flowers. “so…how does it taste?”

he swallows once, twice, to moisten his throat. his voice is hoarse as he responds, "it’s... wonderful."

“you’re sure? it seems like you didn’t like it. did i do something wrong?” you ask in scepticism, the paleness of his expression not reflecting the praise he’s just given you. looking back at the plate of pink cakes, pondering an idea for a moment. “maybe i should try just to be sure.”

his face contorts into one of mild panic, and his mind races.

so MYDEI quickly snatches the plate out of your hands and, in a twist of events, starts scarfing down the pink pancakes at an alarming rate.

his stomach aches with every bite he takes of the cakes, the sweet flavour now a torment he can’t escape. the texture, so soft and spongy, feels like sandpaper against his throat.

but, he manages to keep a calm demeanour as he swallows the last bite, his heart pounding as he looks at you, a forced smile plastered on his face.

"delicious," he manages to choke out, trying to sound convincing.

“really? i’ll get you something to wash away the taste. i have some juice.” you nod with a relieved sigh, about to make a beeline to the kitchen. he’s learnt his lesson, four times actually, with each honeycake he’s gagged over, catching your wrist before you leave and pulling you flush back to him. chests touching, your eyes are wide at the sudden proximity, and your hand brushes his bare chest where tattoos ink his skin.

“i have an idea of something that’ll help.” this is his revenge, MYDEI thinks; he’ll scrape the taste of those vile cakes away with a kiss, maybe one for each bite he's taken. he’s gentle as he can be, gloved hands tilting your chin up as his lips brush yours. you don’t notice the flavour of your failed attempt at desserts, addicted to the taste of him as your eyes shut.

══════════════════

"one wish, no boundaries, no limits. what would it be?” your voice a low hum that echoes across the room of his laboratory, feet barely touching the ground as you sit on the edge of his desk, watching curiously as he sifts through the papers. you’re not sure how he keeps track of his documents, from the essays of his students, his own personal experiments, and receipts for droma merchandise that he’s had shipped to the grove.

his gaze lingers on you for a moment as ANAXA pauses, breaking down your question into pieces before he carefully crafts his answer to fit his ideals.

"i want a world where truth,” he begins, “where truth isn’t locked away beneath the weight of power. where people could learn and understand without the fear of retribution."

“that sounds like a very… you answer, professor. you’re not scared of it? the truth and the consequences it may bring, i mean. sometimes…they don’t hold the answer you want.”

a faint, amused smile touches his lips. it was an answer he was accustomed to hearing, and yet, there was something about the way you said it that made it sound less like a rebuke and more like a warning.

"not scared?" he repeats, the words rolling off his tongue like a quiet laugh, "perhaps i’m not… or perhaps i’m simply too tired to fear anything any more."

he tilts his head slightly, gaze flickering over you again. "i never said the answer would be one you wanted.”

“you’re perceptive as always; it’s infuriating. i’d expect no less from one of the seven sages. you make the rest of us look like naive chimera cats next to a verax leo with your insights and observations, don’t you?” a huff of exasperation leaves your lips, shaking your head at ANAXA. there’s dry humour in your tone, a hint of sarcasm that he finds almost refreshing.

"am i now? i think you give me too much credit. i am but a feeble scholar with too much time in his hands." his faint smile deepens into a barely audible chuckle, a rare display of amusement. while many others might have bristled at your words, he only seems mildly amused.

he regards the night sky out the window as if for guidance, stars mocking. "naive chimera kittens, you say? i don’t doubt they’d scratch just as fiercely given the chance."

“didn’t answer my question. are you scared about what the truth brings? not everything’s sunshine and rainbows, especially in amphoreus. never here.” you roll your eyes at him, fingers digging into the side of the desk as you wait pointedly for his reply. a truthful one this time instead of an attempt at deflection.

he sighs, dry humour and nonchalance giving way to seriousness once more. "of course i’m not scared," he says quietly, his words a mere breath on the wind. "the truth is always a risk. it could be a miracle; it could be a nightmare. it could free us or condemn us."

he finally peels himself away from whatever he was doing, straightening to his full height from his previous slouching position over one of the laboratory tables as he approaches you. in the softly dancing light, he seems to cast shadows, a reflection of dark uncertainty that he’s familiar with all too well.

"but some risks", he murmurs, "are worth taking."

“even if it means losing everything along the way. even if it means you’ll pay the price with your soul?” you asks hesitantly, yelling inwardly at yourself for letting your guard down. you can’t help but lay your heart bare to him; it’s a curse in itself, one you can’t cure.

his gaze softens ever so slightly, the crimson of his eye flashing with a hint of something—understanding, perhaps. ANAXA took another step forward, closing the distance between you.

"even then," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "even if the world turns against me, i will not shy away from the truth. too long have i lived in the shadows, in deceit and lies. better death, better damnation, than to live in ignorance."

his words hang in the air like a promise, or maybe a threat. you’re not too sure, he wants you to figure it out on your own. 

“you’ve thought long about this, haven’t you? you’re always two steps ahead of me.” you nod quietly. your own confession is reluctant; you don’t know how he’ll respond to it, but that shouldn’t worry you. everyone has their own opinions and beliefs, but some part of you wants your answer to please him, but you speak up regardless. “i don’t know what i’d do actually. is that so bad?”

he seems to consider your question more carefully this time, and you hope he won’t go overboard with his reactions like he usually does, cackling himself into a frenzy out of his own lectures. "not bad," he says finally, "just...surprising."

reaching out, his fingertips barely skimming the edge of your cheek, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to touch you. his fingers lingered there, in that space just millimetres from your skin, and you resist the urge to lean your cheek into his palm to close the distance between you both. "you, with your secrets and half-truths..." he murmurs, words a breath against your ear.

“then i hope you don’t mind if you unravel the truth, with me by your side then?” another question, this one soft and gentle that it tugs on the heartstrings he thought he had severed long ago.

he purses his lips thoughtfully. he looks away, a glint of something in his scarlet eye.

"with you by my side..." he echoes thoughtfully. "i suppose i could make an exception."

he steps closer, his presence closer than ever before. eye lingering on your mouth for a moment before returning to your gaze. hand curling to cup your face, you feel the cold metal of the rings on his finger against your cheek.

"i think it would be...enlightening. shall we give it a try?” ANAXA murmurs, noses brushing and lips tantalising.

══════════════════

the memory shard whirs, crystals forever frozen in time as the pink creature floats around the two figures. it’s a stark contrast against the red sky and the fire falling from the horizon.

“do you think they got their happy ending?” the creature called mem asks, blue curious eyes staring intently at the memory, itching to replay it again despite knowing how the story ends.

with a heavy heart, the shard hums to a close, sealing whatever wish it carried. some romance stories end with tragedy after all, like how not all dreams come true. and this was just another memory lost to the black tides and cruel fate.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[frostyresolve]

why not this one ꒰ ᝬ amphoreus men

in another life, he resolves. spoilers for 3.2 trailblaze mission: through the petals in the land of repose. features phainon, mydei, anaxa. 1.3k words. right person, wrong time. angst.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

he has always been a hero, destined to take the blade and the mantle of a chrysos heir. once upon a time, he had been given the title of ‘deliverer’ by a girl lost to the ashes of his long-forgotten hometown. it doesn’t lessen the load, as if PHAINON were the pillars that held up the sky of amphoreus.

if he’s the sun, then you’re the moon. he’ll be the rock in your stormy sea, the umbrella shielding you from the rain, and the knight in shining armour ready to defend you at all costs. he’s loyal to a fault; it’s in his teasing and bubbly nature, underneath all that spark and charm.

time and space were just a construct to him; he’d rip the heavens apart with his bare hands if it meant that he’d be able to get you to stay by his side. you’re practically soulmates, or so you’d like to say. he feels giddy like a little kid about it, much to his embarrassment. the thought of souls intertwined, stars aligned and fate defined.

the same boy once hanging onto your every word now stands still, his sword in hand as he drowns himself in sin. it’s because of him, always him. amphoreus falls onto him to lift after all, so he takes the blame just like how he carries everything else on his aching shoulders.

in another life, he’d be able to devote his heart and soul to you truly. and you’d be the only duty, the only person he’d truly belong to. the thing about cycles is that they’d reoccur, stuck in a loop with no hope of breaking free. he’ll fall in love with you every time; he’ll lose you again once more, and it repeats. more than friends, always less than lovers, but never his to lose.

so he’ll find you in the next one, and it’ll just be like how you dreamed it could be. no duties, no prophecies, just the two of you under the endless sea of stars, like how it was supposed to be. your face always fits in his palm like your features were moulded by his hands. you’ll laugh, and PHAINON will chuckle, because he’ll truly have the world in his hands to care for then.

══════════════════

nikador has always had a complicated history when it comes to lovers in all the myths in the archives of janusopolis. odd that a titan of strife would have more stories to tell when it came to romance instead of mnestia herself. it seems MYDEI was no exception to this rule, finding himself torn between his heart and duty.

it’s like those stories he’s read before in secret in the library as a child, of tales depicting love as an emotion so strong it transcended time. that love was forever eternal and it would exist even as centuries pass; he wonders if that was what his mother felt for him when she had chosen him all those years ago.

when he says his farewell, there’s a resounding silence in the air, tension so thick that it felt like you were drowning in it. he’s never really had a way with words, no matter how many times he’s pored over books and scrolls during his free time. was it because he didn’t know how to say goodbye or because he didn’t want to? some part of him felt his heart faltering at the sight of the tears in your eyes, the shaky quiver of your lip, and the way you look as if you’re desperately grasping for every bit of him left before it’s ripped away from you.

kremnoans never show fear, or so they say, but maybe this is the closest thing to being terrified he could ever feel. would it be an over-exaggeration to say that the world ended when he had left, taking every part of you with him?

in another life, he’d enjoy the domesticity of living with you without a care for war. and he’d be able to grow old by your side. so he’ll fight over and over again. his bones will break; ichor will stain the throne of his kingdom. embrace the thrill of madness and war if it means he’ll keep you safe. when he succumbs eventually to the tide, blades piercing into his tenth thoracic vertebra, his brain will replay his memories. in those last seven minutes, he feels the sun shining on his skin and the warmth that flutters in his chest that accompanies your touch.

is it really selfish of him to ask for you to wait for him in the next life until then? if it even does happen. MYDEI will keep fighting in your honour in the meantime. even when he loses his mind, he doesn’t think he’ll ever truly forget you. the darkness of the black tide doesn’t seem so lonely with the distant sound of your laughter, your face now blurred and name forgotten.

══════════════════

miracles rarely happen without consequence; even the sage of the grove epiphany knows that. reason overcomes emotion, one he’s tried to deny desperately so many times. and yet, every solution led ANAXA right back to you. he doesn’t believe in destiny and fate, only in the decisions one makes to determine the outcome of their life and the consequences they must bear as a result. perhaps loving was a mistake; he’ll never know until he tries.

it feels like a lifetime ago that he remembers how life pulses beneath his hands, fingers intertwining with yours, thumb rubbing your pulse that beats beneath your flesh. all you feel of him now is cold, the sound of unnatural vibrations like a bomb about to explode, contraptions he once invented in the comfort of his lab. how ironic that he himself had become another one of the anomalies he had once taken an interest in.

he’s grown used to hiding his emotions; a grand performer should never lay his feelings out on a silver platter, for it’ll destroy the image he’s tried so hard to craft. yet somehow you’ve managed to slip through the cracks like you always do. even stuck frozen between life and death, he thinks of you amongst the chaos of his mind. it brings him solace, but not enough.

he’ll never tell you about the voice that runs rampant in his head, nor does he tell you about how his heart used to beat for only you. there’s no point anyway; with what little time he has left, he doesn’t want you to mourn over what could have been. some part of him wants to do it; he’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you’ll never get over him in some twisted way, that you’ll be tied to him even after he’s gone.

in another life, he’d be able to give you the unconditional love and affection you deserve. you wouldn’t be stuck loving the husk of a man that once used to be, his fingers digging into the edges of his soul and ripping the core flame that’s sustained him for this long. he’ll ascend to godhood in the next era. you’ll long have perished by then. both of you will be forgotten, only living through each other’s memories. despite his lack of faith, he prays that next time you meet will be different, that you won’t love a corpse like him and he’ll be able to give you everything you ever deserved.

in all timelines, in all calculations and possibilities, it was undeniable that your presence was one of the very foundations of his existence. he hopes that he’ll be able to love you right in the next. you’ll be the reason he smiles truly, while ANAXA will be the one to hold your hand as you embrace the dawn together.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[frostyresolve]

constellations ꒰ ᝬ phainon

you wonder whether you’d find each other, even as stars in the sky. 641 words. a sprinkle of angst.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

“do you think when you’re long gone, the gods would put us up in the stars like constellations in the sky for the whole world to gaze upon?”

his head swivels at the sound of your voice, slight alarm in the irises of his eyes as his forehead bumps against yours in shock. at your question or the fact that you randomly appeared in front of PHAINON; you did not know. you can’t help but wince, showing the pearly whites of your teeth while he mumbles his apologies in a panic, jittery like a newly hatched droma on its feet.

“why would you ask such a thing?” is his reply, bewildered, though his tone borders on fond exasperation. leave it to you to ask the oddest questions he’s ever heard. one time it was if he’d love you if you were a verax leo. the other was if he’d still kiss you if you’d been a titankin (kephale knows how you’d turn into such a monster).

the silence hangs between you as your inner thoughts echo loudly in your head, anxiously waiting for his answer. he purses his lips, mouth parting to give you an answer before it shuts again, scrunching his nose in the way you adore so much. how does he answer you when he knows the truth? he’ll be the last one left at the end of the world, and you won’t be by his side.

“you’d be the prettiest star in the sky then.” he murmurs, fingers intertwining with yours like they’ve done so many lifetimes ago. a cycle that’ll repeat till the end of time. a romance meant to end with loneliness and doom, an ache that he can’t quite erase nor forget, haunting him across endless loops across timelines.

you don’t believe him, not knowing about the thoughts running rampant in his head, the impending sense of doom that threatens to swallow him whole and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“really? you’re just biased towards me. i can tell you’re trying not to laugh.” you pout, teasing him when your shoulder meets his with a soft nudge. PHAINON feigns hurt, clutching at his shoulder pad with an over-exaggerated wince.

“i think..they’d be fools if they didn’t. to be part of something eternal, that would be a sort of immortality in itself, don’t you think?” a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he decides carefully on what to say without giving away the inner turmoil bubbling in the depths of his soul.

you laugh, a sweet sound that causes his heart to flutter; he’s never gotten used to the way you make him feel. he doesn’t think he ever will, falling for you over and over again.

“i’d love you forever, immortal or not. you know that, right?” you remind him, squeezing his hand tight enough like a lifeline. he’s your anchor, always and forevermore.

he gently rests his cheek against the top of your head, eyes closing for a moment as he basks in your presence, his other hand snaking around your waist to pull you close to him.

when he does open his eyes, his head turns to look at you. his gaze meets yours for a moment before flickering down to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.

“i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “and i will always love you, no matter what form i take.”

“even as a chimera cat or a droma?” you giggle, his nose brushing against yours as his lips brush against yours in a gentle kiss.

“even if you’re a chimera cat or a droma.” PHAINON promises, his eyelashes tickling your cheek and sharing his breaths with you, your love mingling together into what he thinks is the closest feeling of peace he’ll ever feel.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[cowboylikemily]

you are going on a blind date that pinterest set up for you, find out who will be the lucky one and how the evening will end 💌

on pinterest search the following topics and post the first pin that will show up in each category

fictional character

date / night date

gift

outfit

dessert

love quote

tags: @catchmeonyourceiling @lovethornes @daystarpoet @beaucereza @chxrrybxmbi @dolcecuore @sororygilmore @auntiejohn @binibby @bvrnesher @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @certaimromance @effortlesslysweet @aezuria @mothswan @lydiasfalling @amrplastique @peanutalergy @xoxorory @xoxoivy13 @laufeysvalentine @minorlyatfault @jjsblueberry and whoever wants to join <3

[catchmeonyourceiling]

tysm for the tag emily!! 🤍

npt: @mysummerchild @haeerizm @balladofareader @sarastellasari @auntiejohn @grayslovely @whoo0sh @dxstoeskyvjbess + anyone else!

[whoo0sh]

omg tysm for the tag that’s so sweet!! 🤍🤍🤍

i haven’t watched pride and prejudice but maybe this is a sign xx

tags (obviously free to participate even if i forgot to tag you!!!) : @x3nafix @shootingstargirl2001 @presley703 @je-suis-indesicive @inmyheaddd @mrsarnold @shyandsweetbunny2 @matildaelsiee @dollevve @aezuria

[x3nafix]

ahhh this was so cute tysm for the tag!!! I love these games and try to reply as much as possible!

tags: @nmakii @fishii28 @mixolya @ohagiyo @megumismyhusband @sky-casino

[megumismyhusband]

STOP ILY TY FOR TNE TAG THIS IS SO CUTE

tags: @ayatakanosstuff @grenadehearts @vellichorira @mixolya + anyone who wants to join

[aphelya]

i totally forgot this LMAOO but thank you for the tag ml <33

aaron warner my beloved why is pinterest on my side today

no pressure tags: @byakgans @etherealrin @starlvcied @inloveinsickness guys i am so sorry for the 29392th tag today 😭😭😭😭😭😭 + anyone who wants to join <3

[etherealrin]

tysm lya again LOL

sign me tf up this is so kaiser coded…npt @wholemeallbread @lizbix @aventoruarchives

[aventoru]

ty for the tag tiff!!

never even watched kimi ni todoke but here we are loll

tags : @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @choccorin @nensi @frostedresolve

[frostyresolve]

thank you for the tag khlo! kinda late to the party oopsies

tagging anyone who would like to join, everyone’s blind dates look wonderful ♡

[frostyresolve]

Hey!

I've read your Wuthering Waves fics, you're good! It's so hard to find a good one, despite how popular the game is. The Brant brainrot has consumed me & I was so happy to discover your fics for him!!

oh my goodness hello!!! thank you so much, i’m so so so glad to hear that you’ve been enjoying my work it means a lot to me! gosh thank you for stopping by and dropping this lovely ask into my inbox you really made the rest of my week (,,>﹏<,,)

[frostyresolve]

sparklers ꒰ ᝬ katsuki bakugo

you celebrate his birthday, the ‘candles’ and cake decide otherwise. 1.3k words. post timeskip. humor. fluff.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

he’s twenty-five now. standing at a staggering 180 centimetres tall, sporting scars across his face and body. his heart still beats to the left of his sternum, his hands brushing the faint traces of the hole where life had been taken from him. before it had been given back by the hands of heroes, KATSUKI BAKUGO resolves not to waste this second chance.

it’s empty by the time he comes back, much to his confusion, not that you were ever a quiet person. but then again, who turns off the main power grid? the lights don’t even work no matter how many times he flips the switch, and he curses a storm under his breath. there’s the faint sound of crackling, sparks dancing in his sweaty palm that light the way of the darkened hallways. he spots the way things are strewn out on the floor in a hurry, handprints in a very odd shade of what looks like red streaking the white walls.

it’s not a stretch for him to think you’ve been kidnapped or worse, especially if you were dating the number five hero. he’s bound to have lots of enemies. his feet are heavy, dropping his heavy gauntlets onto the floor in favour of gaining speed without them weighing him down, racing to where the metallic sounds of clanking came from the kitchen.

he’s about to yell, swear, scream, or anything really, as long as it warrants a response from you to let him know you’re alright. but the words die in his throat, panic and frustration being replaced in favour of mild irritation and exasperation at the sight of the kitchen. it screams of bloody murder; to be fair, he’s not sure why he even lets you into the kitchen. you’ve always done more harm than good. for someone who had a literal explosion quirk, he’s never exploded the stove once as compared to you.

the candles on the cake are precariously placed, twenty-five for each year of his life. he’d almost forget that it was his birthday if he hadn’t been bombarded by extras and his sidekicks the whole day. they never really cared for him; all he wanted was to hear you wishing him well, raising a toast dedicated to him. he’s not sure to what, though. to a long life? to a successful career? to something more?

“happy birthday, KATSUKI.” your words are muffled beneath the monstrosity of the cake decorated in the colours of his hero costume. it’s a splatter of red, black and orange, the swirls of frosting hastily done, with some bigger than most. he makes out what looks like a mini drawing of him done in cream on the top; it looks more like a flattened pomeranian. he’s glad you can’t see the wince on his face clearly, the candles drooping on the cake about to crumble at any moment.

he wouldn’t be surprised if you admitted that you’d superglued the thing together in an attempt to keep it together.

“dumbass, the thing’s going to fall with you stumbling around like a ditz. why are you even doing this in the dark? you’ll cut yourself or something.” he mumbles, taking the platter gingerly from you and helping you place it on the counter. he sees you clearly now, screaming of bloody murder with red food colouring all over his all might apron. some part of him is screeching right now at the sight, but he swallows it down, eyes flickering to the cake instead of your messy state.

at least he can’t get mad at the way you sheepishly avert your gaze, not daring to look at how you’ve decimated his kitchen. “yeah…definitely not the best thing. i tried everything. yaomomo’s recipes, sato’s advice, cooking tutorials, and even going to a cooking class. maybe my quirk is cooking repellent.”

“it’s…fine. not bad, i guess; surprised the top hasn’t fallen off.” he huffs, cutting off your rambling as he pokes the side of the cake a little too roughly. it’s rigid under his fingers, too hard like a rock. he might break a tooth eating it.

“we can worry about whether it’s edible or not later because first…you have to blow your candles out.” your smile is infectious, sincere and probably the most genuine birthday wish he’s ever gotten today. it’s not empty like the rest of the words that leave the mouth of others, saying it probably more out of obligation, like how one would instinctively say bless you to a sneeze or plus ultra with a fist pump.

it’s an instant reaction, the sound of sizzling when his palm hovers over the candles, a little too big and oddly sized to be placed on the cake. KATSUKI doesn’t think of it much; it might be a sizing issue on your behalf as he lights all twenty-five candles at once. the sizzling rises to a crackle before it starts popping; his eyes widening before he leaps toward you.

you had put sparklers on the cake instead of candles. not just one, but twenty-five of them.

you’re sprawled on the floor, his body shielding you from the explosion of sparklers in the room as he grips you tight. “where’s the fucking fire alarm?” you barely make out his words over the sound of whistling and booms, yelling back at him in confusion. he repeats it louder before the screeching stops. you’re about to breathe a sigh of relief until you feel water dripping on your forehead before it turns into a drizzle. he hates the rain.

“there it is, great.” he swears under his breath, pressing you against the floor as if it's preventing you from getting wet. doesn’t matter anyway, the smell of fire being replaced with burnt kitchen appliances with the sprinkler system practically pouring down onto the two of you. you offer him a nervous laugh; KATSUKI doesn’t buy it, grumbling as he hides his face in your neck and makes you take the full weight of his body as he lies on top of you in exhaustion. it’s a fitting punishment, but gosh, he’s heavy.

“is it a bad time to tell you—“

“shut it.”

“…you still have your birthday present?” you try, your grin more of a grimace once you see the damage done. black marks on the wall with holes in the cupboards, there’s a chip on one of his mother’s antique plates, you clear your throat and quickly zoom to hide it behind your back when he finally lets you go so he doesn’t notice.

“i want a new kitchen.” he crosses his arms, wrinkling his nose at the cake. it’s a pile of goop now gone through hell after being a literal rock, melted by a barrage of sparklers and hosed down by the sprinklers. one is still sparkling, somehow managing to survive the chaos on the counter. despite your frazzled and apologetic state, rambling about how you ruined his birthday. he couldn’t deny that at least you got the surprise aspect of it right. he just nods along to whatever you’re saying, the presents you’re buying and the wishes you’ll try to make come true.

“sorry, really. but happy birthday.” you mumble softly, holding both his gloved hands in yours, forcing him to look at you. he brushes the smudge from your cheek, but you’re quicker, pouncing onto him and smothering him with kisses before he argues.

KATSUKI can think of multiple things right now. affection, a shower, a new kitchen. but there’s one more important than the rest, his left pocket feeling heavier as he tries to hide the clink of the gold band in one of the zips in his hero costume. he decides to accept your apology kisses for now; he can think of making you officially his later. it’s one birthday wish of his you could grant. that and to never step foot in his kitchen ever again.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[frostyresolve]

why not this one ꒰ ᝬ amphoreus men

in another life, he resolves. spoilers for 3.2 trailblaze mission: through the petals in the land of repose. features phainon, mydei, anaxa. 1.3k words. right person, wrong time. angst.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

he has always been a hero, destined to take the blade and the mantle of a chrysos heir. once upon a time, he had been given the title of ‘deliverer’ by a girl lost to the ashes of his long-forgotten hometown. it doesn’t lessen the load, as if PHAINON were the pillars that held up the sky of amphoreus.

if he’s the sun, then you’re the moon. he’ll be the rock in your stormy sea, the umbrella shielding you from the rain, and the knight in shining armour ready to defend you at all costs. he’s loyal to a fault; it’s in his teasing and bubbly nature, underneath all that spark and charm.

time and space were just a construct to him; he’d rip the heavens apart with his bare hands if it meant that he’d be able to get you to stay by his side. you’re practically soulmates, or so you’d like to say. he feels giddy like a little kid about it, much to his embarrassment. the thought of souls intertwined, stars aligned and fate defined.

the same boy once hanging onto your every word now stands still, his sword in hand as he drowns himself in sin. it’s because of him, always him. amphoreus falls onto him to lift after all, so he takes the blame just like how he carries everything else on his aching shoulders.

in another life, he’d be able to devote his heart and soul to you truly. and you’d be the only duty, the only person he’d truly belong to. the thing about cycles is that they’d reoccur, stuck in a loop with no hope of breaking free. he’ll fall in love with you every time; he’ll lose you again once more, and it repeats. more than friends, always less than lovers, but never his to lose.

so he’ll find you in the next one, and it’ll just be like how you dreamed it could be. no duties, no prophecies, just the two of you under the endless sea of stars, like how it was supposed to be. your face always fits in his palm like your features were moulded by his hands. you’ll laugh, and PHAINON will chuckle, because he’ll truly have the world in his hands to care for then.

══════════════════

nikador has always had a complicated history when it comes to lovers in all the myths in the archives of janusopolis. odd that a titan of strife would have more stories to tell when it came to romance instead of mnestia herself. it seems MYDEI was no exception to this rule, finding himself torn between his heart and duty.

it’s like those stories he’s read before in secret in the library as a child, of tales depicting love as an emotion so strong it transcended time. that love was forever eternal and it would exist even as centuries pass; he wonders if that was what his mother felt for him when she had chosen him all those years ago.

when he says his farewell, there’s a resounding silence in the air, tension so thick that it felt like you were drowning in it. he’s never really had a way with words, no matter how many times he’s pored over books and scrolls during his free time. was it because he didn’t know how to say goodbye or because he didn’t want to? some part of him felt his heart faltering at the sight of the tears in your eyes, the shaky quiver of your lip, and the way you look as if you’re desperately grasping for every bit of him left before it’s ripped away from you.

kremnoans never show fear, or so they say, but maybe this is the closest thing to being terrified he could ever feel. would it be an over-exaggeration to say that the world ended when he had left, taking every part of you with him?

in another life, he’d enjoy the domesticity of living with you without a care for war. and he’d be able to grow old by your side. so he’ll fight over and over again. his bones will break; ichor will stain the throne of his kingdom. embrace the thrill of madness and war if it means he’ll keep you safe. when he succumbs eventually to the tide, blades piercing into his tenth thoracic vertebra, his brain will replay his memories. in those last seven minutes, he feels the sun shining on his skin and the warmth that flutters in his chest that accompanies your touch.

is it really selfish of him to ask for you to wait for him in the next life until then? if it even does happen. MYDEI will keep fighting in your honour in the meantime. even when he loses his mind, he doesn’t think he’ll ever truly forget you. the darkness of the black tide doesn’t seem so lonely with the distant sound of your laughter, your face now blurred and name forgotten.

══════════════════

miracles rarely happen without consequence; even the sage of the grove epiphany knows that. reason overcomes emotion, one he’s tried to deny desperately so many times. and yet, every solution led ANAXA right back to you. he doesn’t believe in destiny and fate, only in the decisions one makes to determine the outcome of their life and the consequences they must bear as a result. perhaps loving was a mistake; he’ll never know until he tries.

it feels like a lifetime ago that he remembers how life pulses beneath his hands, fingers intertwining with yours, thumb rubbing your pulse that beats beneath your flesh. all you feel of him now is cold, the sound of unnatural vibrations like a bomb about to explode, contraptions he once invented in the comfort of his lab. how ironic that he himself had become another one of the anomalies he had once taken an interest in.

he’s grown used to hiding his emotions; a grand performer should never lay his feelings out on a silver platter, for it’ll destroy the image he’s tried so hard to craft. yet somehow you’ve managed to slip through the cracks like you always do. even stuck frozen between life and death, he thinks of you amongst the chaos of his mind. it brings him solace, but not enough.

he’ll never tell you about the voice that runs rampant in his head, nor does he tell you about how his heart used to beat for only you. there’s no point anyway; with what little time he has left, he doesn’t want you to mourn over what could have been. some part of him wants to do it; he’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you’ll never get over him in some twisted way, that you’ll be tied to him even after he’s gone.

in another life, he’d be able to give you the unconditional love and affection you deserve. you wouldn’t be stuck loving the husk of a man that once used to be, his fingers digging into the edges of his soul and ripping the core flame that’s sustained him for this long. he’ll ascend to godhood in the next era. you’ll long have perished by then. both of you will be forgotten, only living through each other’s memories. despite his lack of faith, he prays that next time you meet will be different, that you won’t love a corpse like him and he’ll be able to give you everything you ever deserved.

in all timelines, in all calculations and possibilities, it was undeniable that your presence was one of the very foundations of his existence. he hopes that he’ll be able to love you right in the next. you’ll be the reason he smiles truly, while ANAXA will be the one to hold your hand as you embrace the dawn together.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[frostyresolve]

candy connoisseur ꒰ ᝬ brant

he declares himself a true savant of sweets, you don’t believe him so he gives you a taste of his expertise. 800 words. fluff

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

he holds up the peppermint, turning it this way and that, as if inspecting it for flaws. “no two peppermints are the same, you see. the ratio of peppermint oil to sugar is crucial, and the crispness of the outer layer can’t be ignored.”

you’re trying not to yell at him, your smile more of a grimace as you resist the urge to flee from the seller who’s eyeing you both curiously. he’s trying not to relish in the way you link your arm with his, pretending to be a couple. you didn’t have to choose the guise of being his significant other, but his heart flutters that you decided to. so BRANT decides to make his move.

“and you can tell that from your sense of smell? are you sure you’re not secretly a bloodhound, captain?” you try not to laugh, covering your mouth to hide your smile, shoulders rigid with tension you’re filling miserable to hide.

he flashes you a wide grin, clearly enjoying this exchange. “who knows? i might have a bit of bloodhound in me. but that's not important.”

he’s dead serious, you realise, cradling the sweet like a pearl he’s just fished out of the ocean, the shine of melting sugar coating his fingertips under the light of the market. the thing with him was that he never understood the art of subtlety; blame the performer in him that thrived being under the spotlight. he was the star of the show after all, and a star’s light would always shine, no matter how dim or far away it was from the audience’s eyes.

“what is important is that i, a captain and a man of discerning taste, find the most scrumptious and satisfying peppermint stick in this entire market. no two peppermints are the same, after all. the ratio of peppermint oil to sugar is crucial, and the crispness of the outer layer can’t be ignored.” his declaration is loud, almost like he’s presenting another show, the gaze of other patrons and market goers landing on the two of you. biting your cheek, you resist the urge to shake BRANT by the collar until he gets the message to shut up. instead, you just nod along with an uneasy smile, praying to the sentinel that you both won’t be caught.

you were too tired pretending to be the damsel in distress so that he could escape. honestly speaking, he was more suited to the role of princess, with you saving his skin on more than one occasion.

he takes another deep breath, eyes fluttering shut in deep contemplation as he registers the scent of the sweet. “aha. see? crucial process.”

“yeah, uh-huh. sure! so we’ll take that one then!” you cut in, about to snatch the sweet from his hand before he pops it in your mouth to your horror. the voice in your head is practically shrieking at you right now. curse your luck for having to babysit him. seems that your promise to roccia to keep him out of trouble is down the gutter now.

“wait a moment, my dear. you haven’t even tried it yet.” he sighs with a pout, tongue swiping over his lips sheening with melting sugar. he’s infuriating, always driving you mad, but you can’t help but admire his boldness, something you couldn’t imagine yourself being.

again, your exasperation flares like oil to a flame, patience thinning, about to snap, before BRANT presses his lips to yours. of course you’d be caught off guard, gasping against his mouth and stumbling backwards in shock. he’s quick to catch you, hands snaking around your waist and squeezing your hip slightly. the scent of peppermint from your shared breaths wafts through your nose, the taste of sugar crystals on your intertwined tongues before he pulls away.

“how does it taste? you are now my disciple, and as such, you shall have to taste every sweet they have to offer. with me as your dashing mentor, naturally.” he shoots you a wink alongside his smirk, your cheeks flushed and heartbeat running rampant under his gaze.

the taste of him still lingers in your mouth as your fingers touch your mouth, swiping away the remnants of his sickly sweet kiss. the same way you’d feel after indulging in a treat, you find yourself craving more. taking a deep breath and mustering your courage, you’re about to reply despite your bubbling excitement until the yell of the sweet seller interrupts your moment.

he didn’t pay for that peppermint, it seems, nor for the multitude of multicoloured orbs that accidentally spill out of his pockets as he grabs your hand before taking off into the streets. hopefully he doesn’t drop all the sweets in his haste to escape; BRANT had much more to teach you after all.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[frostyresolve]

your brant posts are so good, i love how you write him! i end up reading them many times because i just can't get enough. tysm for writing for him!

no thank YOU anon for reading my brant fics! it makes me so happy to hear that you enjoy them ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

[frostyresolve]

on my last faith ꒰ ᝬ phainon

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

“do you believe in fate and destiny?” your shoulders shake at his question, and he can’t ignore the way his chest tightens as your lips curve upwards. the way your eyes shut, the tilt of your head nearer to his that has his breath hitching, your palm over your mouth that he wants to tear away to reveal the smile you’re hiding from the world. he longs to close the gap between you two, feel the warmth and reassurance of your presence. PHAINON pouts like a puppy, his lips puckering at your laughter.

it was a genuine question, wasn’t it? reaching towards you, your fingers intertwine tighter around his. how could you not believe in the threads of fate when they’ve intertwined both your souls together in a red invisible string? what about destiny when you lived in the presence of prophecies and titans? when the laughter dies down, the light of the moon sparkles in the irises of your eyes.

“i believe in you.” your words feel bitter in his mouth, like the taste of droma feed, and he tries to hide the way his expression falters as the weight of your trust sinks in.

for a moment, PHAINON forgets all about destiny and fate, about titans playing games and the stars taunting. the words hang in the air, almost tangible. he feels his heart swell, guilt and all. his grip on your hand tightens unconsciously, as if holding onto you is what matters the most in this moment, so he won’t feel your absence when you eventually leave. his shoulders slack ever so slightly, the burden of lifting the sky even more prominent with your declaration.

a breath escapes his lips, a hint of something close to a laugh or a sigh. his eyes suddenly return to the stars above, their mocking dance more vibrant than before; his eyes sting, unable to meet your expectant gaze anymore. “you’re placing all your faith in me, huh? that’s too much, you know.”

he might be your faith now, but eventually it will diminish over time like all things in this world. and he can’t help but wonder how long it’ll take for your belief to extinguish like the flames of a candle. all he can do now is focus on the way your thumb brushes against his knuckles, the way your soft palm fits in his calloused ones, and the soft rhythmic sound of your breaths. he’ll hold onto them until he’s ready to say goodbye.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI