oblivio(n)s
Summary:- In Ancient Amphoreus, it is a declaration of love if you throw an apple on one's head. But, how would you feel if you threw an apple on your crush's head by accident?
Cw- Feminine reader, poorly written fluff cuz ur dear author has 'angst' as her middle name, idiots in love, slightly suggestive (one sex joke abt condoms and lube), best girl cipher, older sister aglaea canon cuz i said so.
a fic based on this stupid idea i had
The Marmoreal market was a chorus of haggling voices, the scent of fresh herbs, and the sharp tang of cured meats mingling in the air. Sunlight spilled over rows of worn canvas awnings, painting everything in warm, muted gold, and small collectibles statues of the chrysos heirs on display.
You won't buy one.
You huff and forcefully close your eyes, swearing to yourself that you won't buy a Phainon collectible. Cipher could be anywhere, and she might as well make your life a living hell if she finds out.
You wove your way past spice sellers and cloth merchants, the weight of your coin pouch a constant reminder not to get too distracted. Easier said than done.
The dresses on display look so beautiful though..
A merchant catches your wandering eye and is on you in an instant, voice warm and coaxing. “Traveler, this color would suit you perfectly,” she says, lifting a gown that was definitely woven by the ever-famousweaver of gold herself, all soft shadows and a subtle gleam. “Special price, only for you ;)”
You manage a polite smile, though your fingers twitch with the urge to touch the fabric. Focus. You need to get the damn food and groceries. You remind yourself of the purpose of this trip, even as your eyes linger a second too long.
“You’re not actually considering that, are you?”
The familiar voice slides into your ear with practiced ease, low and threaded with quiet amusement. You turn your head, already knowing who you’ll see.
"Cipher, I am not making you fish anymore."
Her gaze flicks between you and the dress with a teasing, knowing tilt of his lips.
“Weren’t you shopping for actual necessities?” she says, as though catching you red-handed in some failed robbery.
You fold your arms, feeling annoyed. “I was. Until someone decided to distract me. And, stop spying on me!!”
“Spying? Please. This market is a perfectly public place. I just happen to be better at moving around in it than you are.”
You narrow your eyes, turning back toward the merchant—who is now watching the exchange and has her eyes wide open like the classic gossipmonger pose. “I’m not buying the dress,” you announce, more to yourself than anyone else.
Cipher’s gaze lingers on it a beat too long. “Shame. You’d look good in it.”
"What do you want, Cipher?"
Before you even let her reply, you march past her before she can say anything else.
Luckily for you, you spot a vendor selling fresh fruit, you smile to yourself and quickly marhc towards the stall while ignoring the literal demigod of trickery following your back.
The stall keeper, a broad-shouldered man with a fake-saccharine face, smiles as you approach. “Looking for something sweet, traveler?” His voice is friendly but laced with the tone of a professional vendor. You are definitely going to buy much more than apples today.
“I’m here for the apples,” you say, trying not to sound like you’ve just been wandering aimlessly for half an hour...which you definitely have. "Something fresh and sweet, please, suitable for baking."
Cipher leans against the edge of the stall, looking utterly unhelpful. “She’s picky,” she tells the merchant, earning herself a swift and harsh elbow from you.
The merchant chuckles, pulling forward a basket of smaller apples with deep red skin. “Straight from the orchards, sweet, crisp, and good for baking!!”
You glance at Cipher, who’s already inspecting one. She bites into it without asking, crunch echoing loud enough to make the merchant wince. “Mm,” she says, mouth full, “good enough. Get a dozen.” You sigh. “I’ll take them,” you tell the merchant, fishing coins from your pouch. And you glance over at the collectibles stall again on your way out. Cipher notices, of course, that idiot notices. “Go on,” she says with that infuriating smirk, “buy the Phainon figurine. I dare you.”
"Shut your mouth, otherwise you will be down to 8 lives." “Don’t worry,” she purrs, already slipping her hand into her pocket, which you can't see. “I’ll buy that collectible for you, dear.”
Before you can even snap at her, she’s already flipped a coin high into the air, the metal catching the sunlight in a quick, sharp gleam before landing neatly back in her palm. With a theatrical swoosh, she turns on her heel and darts toward the stall. “Cipher—!”
Too late, loser.
The sudden rush of air from her mad dash whips your clothes against your legs, making you spin on your heel in surprise. You stumble, and you fall down on your ass. Your bag lurches in your grip, and the apples spill free, some bouncing on the street, rolling away/towards you, and one was up in the air, which was definitely about to hit someone on the head. The stall owner next to you jumps back, barely saving a stack of pottery from toppling, and looks down at you in worry, asking about your well-being.
You quickly get on your knees and start collecting the apples, internally cursing yourself and mourning your apples, ignoring the crowds' "woooos" and smirking faces. ughh why is everyone so mean? Cipher owes you a lot. And, speaking of Cipher, she noticed your mishap and quickly came towards you at lightning speed with a small paper bag containing that collectible you wanted, and then she unexpectedly picked you up along with your bags.
Anddddd...you are back home with all your bags and a small sticky note of a cat saying "you owe me, sweetie :3".
You groan out in annoyance, but you atleast got the Phainon collectible you wanted..
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Phainon was wandering aimlessly in the market, looking for a small yet simple trinket that you would like. His hands tucked behind his back, a faint, absentminded hum escaping him.
Silvers gleamed under the sun, rings, pendants, hairpins, but none felt quite right. He passed over delicate glass beads, ignored the polished stones wrapped in copper wire, and paused only briefly to inspect a wooden carving before shaking his head.
And then, something meets his eyes. A small silver necklace of a sword with a tiny pink gemstone embedded in the middle of the blade.
He reached out, letting the cool metal rest in his palm. The weight was light, but not fragile. Exactly the kind of thing he could picture you wearing without it ever feeling too much.
“How much?” he asked the vendor, with a widest smile on his face, everyone could practically see his tail and ears wagging left to right, with hearts floating around his head.
And before the vendor could even let the words out of his mouth,
WACK !!
The sharp thud made Phainon jolt, his ears (if they were visible) practically twitching straight up.
“Ow—what the—?!” He whirled around, one hand clutching the necklace protectively to his chest as the other rubbed the sore spot on his head.
At his feet lay the culprit: a slightly bruised red apple, rolling lazily in a small arc before coming to rest against his boot.
He followed the trajectory upward, just in time to see you, a few stalls away, scrambling to gather a mess of apples spilling from your basket. You were muttering under your breath, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
You looked so cute!!
Ancient Amphoreus tradition suddenly striked his mind like lightning as he remembered. An apple to the head meant a confession of love. A symbolic gesture dating back hundreds of years, and it was a pretty common occurrence. Once it had been done, the local vendors and people who had witnessed it would give gifts for the people who confessed to each other, if they had accepted each other of course..
And you… you had just done it.
He froze, necklace still clutched to his chest, mouth parting just slightly as his brain seemed to short-circuit.
…You loved him?!
A warmth spread through his chest, crawling up his neck until it settled in his ears
You, meanwhile, were kneeling on the street, gathering apples as fast as you could, entirely unaware that you had just, in Phainon’s mind, confessed your affection to him.
He took a step toward you, eyes sparkling, and the biggest goofy smile on his face. But.. suddenly a swift gust of wind came, slightly shaking Phainon's large form and...you were gone?
Phainon blinked multiple times to make sure he wasn't going downright insane from happiness.
The spot where you had been, basket, apples, flushed cheeks, and all, was now nothing.
His shoulders slumped, the necklace still dangling in his hand. “…Wait. Where is—?”
He craned his neck, scanning above heads, peering down the rows of stalls, but you were nowhere. The warm buzz in his chest sputtered.
The crowd had noticed.
A ripple of “ooooh~” spread like a wave. Some people leaned on their stalls just to smirk at him; others outright waggled their brows
“Ohhh, young love~” an elderly spice seller sing-songed, grinding cinnamon with entirely too much enthusiasm.
“She hit you with an apple?” a baker’s apprentice chimed in from across the aisle, grinning like an idiot. “Hah! Classic! That’s practically a proposal, you know.”
“I know,” Phainon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I know what it means! But—”
A fishmonger cut him off with a delighted gasp. “Ah, you missed her?” He leaned conspiratorially over his counter, eyes glinting. “I saw it. Just before the wind picked up, a cat lady went up to her. Tall, and had a small paper bag with her. She said something, then, poof! Gone with her.”
Phainon’s stomach dropped. “Cat… lady?”
Several nearby vendors nodded in unison, and Phainon screamed internally, figuring out who she was.
Cipherrrr cmon whyy D:
“Mhm. Took your sweetheart right out from under your nose,” one woman said, barely containing her laugh. “But don’t worry, big guy. If she threw the apple, you’ve already won her heart !!”
Before he could respond, someone shoved a wrapped bundle into his hands.
“For you,” the merchant said with a wink. “Tradition, the apple was the confession, but gifts are for the couple. Don’t let her slip away next time.”
And then another shoved a small bag of candied nuts into his other hand. Then came a ribbon. Then a pouch of dried herbs. And then a bag of...Lubricant and Protection. “—for good fortune in love ;)”
By the time Phainon stumbled away from the market square, entirely flustered and processing what the hell just happened, his arms were full of goods, the necklace somehow still clutched in his grip. He looked like a husband buying goods for his wife.
"Aww...(Name) Where are you?!" He whined under his breath quietly.
Light spilled into your kitchen in a soft, honey-colored haze, painting the walls gold. The smell of dew and faint traces of yesterday’s fruit salad lingered through the open window. You’d been awake for a while now, sleeves rolled up, a knife tapping rhythmically against the wooden cutting board as you sliced vegetables for a stew.
Your mind wandered between the list of chores for the day and the small paper bag sitting smugly on your counter. The Phainon collectible Cipher had bought for you. You refused to admit it aloud, but it made you grin and giggle every time you looked at it.
You were just sliding a neat pile of carrots aside when you heard a knock against your wooden door. You put down the knife and walk towards the door to open it.
Your eyes widenedd after seeing the presence of your crush infront of you. at your damn house.
Phainon stood on your front step, broad frame haloed in morning light, silver hair a little mussed from the breeze, his face was a little red and sweaty, and his chest was heaving up and down in a concerningly fast rate as if he had run to your house at full speed. In his hand, gleaming in the sunlight, was the small silver sword necklace.
Before you could even open your mouth, he stepped forward and, without asking, lifted it toward your neck.
“Hold still,” he murmured, voice unusually soft. The cool touch of the chain brushed against your skin, and the faint metallic clink echoed in the quiet. His fingers, warm, steady, lingered just a little longer at the clasp than necessary before he let the pendant fall against your collarbone.
You blinked at him, words half-formed. “...Phainon, what—”
He beamed. “Perfect. I knew it would suit you.”
Your brows furrowed. Your cheeks were burning up!!, He's so charming and adorable!, You had to stop yourself from kissing this man senseless and—
"I'll cook for you! :D" he said, stepping past you like he lived in your house. “Move overrr~”
You turned, still processing the whiplash of his arrival, as he rolled up his sleeves and set down what appeared to be a pile of goods, candied nuts, herbs, even a suspiciously small bag with the label hastily folded over onto your counter.
He started washing his hands, humming under his breath in that absentminded way he did when he was in a good mood. A very good mood.
You narrowed your eyes, leaning against the doorway. “You’re… being weirdly domestic this morning.”
“Am I?” he asked innocently, glancing over his shoulder at you with that boyish grin which made you thank god for letting you be born in this era to witness this god of a man. “I just thought you could use a good meal.”
The scent of fresh herbs began to fill the room as he worked. His movements were fluid, chopping onions with ease, dropping them into the pot with a satisfying hiss as they hit the oil. Every now and then, his gaze would flick to you, like he was admiring you (he was)
You shifted uncomfortably under the attention. “...You’ve never just shown up to cook for me before.”
“Guess I was overdue,” he said lightly, but there was something behind his tone, warmth that clung to every word.
When you moved to help, reaching for the cutting board, he stepped in front of you, blocking your path entirely. “Sit, I’ve got it!”
You raised a brow. “Phainon, I’m perfectly capable of—”
“Sit,” he repeated, this time softer but with that stubborn lilt that told you he wouldn’t budge.
So you did, And you had come to a conclusion that Mydei had defintiely taught this man to cook.
Your heart fluttered, and your mind was pacing around in confusion. But you were too much in bliss to really care.
The stew bubbled quietly, the scent growing richer with each passing minute—savory, warm, and extremely comforting. Phainon moved around your kitchen like a malewife, sleeves rolled high, hair sticking against his sweaty forehead as he leaned over to stir. His broad shoulders shifted with the motion, and you could hear the faint hum of some tune under his breath, the same way people hum when they’re completely at ease.
Except… Phainon wasn’t usually this at ease.
He sprinkled in a pinch of dried herbs, sniffed the steam rising from the pot, and gave a satisfied nod before reaching for the candied nuts and setting them aside in a small dish. His grin only widened when he caught you watching him.
“You’re staringgg :D!" he teased, tilting his head slightly.
You blinked, quickly looking away. “I’m just… surprised you can cook.”
“Oh?” He ladled a generous spoonful into a bowl, the steam curling up toward your face as he set it in front of you. “What, you thought I’d burn water?”
"You definitely would, Phainon!"
He only grinned wider, but didn’t explain. “Try it.”
You hesitated for a moment, then scooped up a bite. The moment the flavor hit your tongue, your eyes widened. It was perfect. The broth was rich but balanced, the vegetables tender without being mushy, every bite layered with warmth.
You swallowed, looking at him in disbelief. “This is—wow. Phainon, this is actually good.”
He chuckled, leaning a hip against the counter, clearly pleased with himself. “Glad you like it.”
You narrowed your eyes, suspicion creeping in. “...Mydei taught you how to cook this, didn’t he?”
For the briefest moment, his smug mask slipped. He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Yeah.”
The way he said it so softly and shyly made you squeal internally.
You tilted your head. “When? Because you sure didn’t have this kind of skill last week.”
“…Yesterday.”
You blinked. “Yesterday?!”
Phainon nodded, his grin returning but with a faint, almost sheepish warmth behind it. “Begged him, actually. Told him it was important. He stayed up half the night drilling me on it.”
You stared at him, spoon halfway to your mouth. “…Why would you go through all that trouble?”
His gaze softened in a way that made your stomach twist pleasantly. “Because you deserve good food.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your ears were heating. “You’re being weirdly nice today.”
Phainon’s grin turned almost mischievous at your flustered reaction. Without a word, he dipped the ladle back into the pot, scooping up another perfect portion. Then, he grabbed a clean spoon, blew on it a few times to cool it, and turned toward you.
“Alright,” he said in the most cheerful, singsong tone, “open up.”
You blinked. “…Excuse me?”
“Open. Your. Mouth,” he repeated, leaning closer and holding the spoon right in front of your lips. His silver eyes sparkled like this was the most normal thing in the world, like he wasn’t currently short-circuiting your brain.
“Phainon, I can feed myself—”
“Ah-ah-ah!” He wiggled the spoon closer. “You already said it was good, so I know you want more. Come on, be good for me.”
You froze. Be good for me?!
And before you knew it, you were leaning forward, lips parting just enough to let him slide the warm bite past them. The savory broth hit your tongue again, and despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help the soft hum of appreciation that slipped out.
You swallowed quickly, trying to focus on the food instead of the fact that your crush had just hand-fed you like it was the most casual thing in the world. “You’re… unbelievable.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said cheerily, already scooping another spoonful. “One more?”
You wanted to protest. You really did. But your mouth opened anyway. And Phainon looked way too happy for you to say 'no' to.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
After that kitchen incident, Phainon seemed to decide he’d found a new favorite hobby, and that was, spoiling you rotten.
It started small, the next morning, you found a neatly wrapped paper packet on your desk. Inside was a little pouch of lemon candies from a street vendor you’d mentioned liking once in passing. No note. Just a terrible doodle of a smiling sword.
And then came the handholding (p≧w≦q)
At first, you thought it was a one-off thing—he grabbed your hand while leading you through a crowded street, all bright smiles and endless chatter. But he didn’t let go when the street emptied. In fact, he squeezed gently and swung your joined hands. And when you glanced at him, his eyes were already on you, warm enough to make your chest ache.
The gifts got a little… excessive after that. Trinkets from the market. Your favorite snacks. A tiny glass bottle with preserved pink flower petals that matched the gem on the necklace he’d given you. Whenever you tried to protest—"Phainon, you don’t have to keep buying me things!" he’d tilt his head with that puppy-like smile and say, “But i want toooo :(”
And then, one afternoon, he appeared at your door, grinning like a madman unironically. “Come with me, (Name)!!”
“Phainon? Where?”
“You’ll see :D" He offered his hand, and took yours in his.
And then, you ended up at the training grounds. The air smelled faintly of metal and dust. Mydei was already stretching in the center of the sparring ring, looking up as the two of you approached.
"Hello, (Name)." Mydei said with that stern gaze of his before looking at Phainon and immeditely murmuring a "hks" under his breath which you and Phainon could clearly hear.
The two of them stepped into the ring, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. Mydei’s golden, claw-like gauntlets gleamed under the sun. Phainon hefted his claymore with that casual yet determined aura. (-9999 aura sorry)
A faint wind kicked up dust as they circled each other.
Mydei moved first with no warning, lunging in with a slash aimed at Phainon’s ribs. The claws cut the air with a sound like ripping silk. Phainon parried with the flat of his claymore, the force of the clash ringing out sharp and clear.
“You trying to impress my cousin?” Mydei gritted out, twisting for another strike more aggressive than he usually is.
Phainon’s laugh was amused. “Maybe. Is it working?”
He didn’t even glance away from the fight, but you could feel it—he knew exactly where you were standing. The next few exchanges turned almost theatrical: a wide, sweeping strike that sent sparks flying when Mydei blocked; a sudden pivot where Phainon caught his opponent’s claws inches from his face, smirking but lowkey in a pathetic way.
You crossed your arms, trying to hide your grin. He was absolutely showing off.
Mydei, however, wasn’t impressed. With a sharp feint to the left, he closed the distance in a blur, claws flashing toward Phainon’s shoulder. Phainon twisted, blocking with the claymore’s guard, then shoved forward hard enough to make Mydei stagger back a step.
“You’re slow today,” Phainon teased, rolling his neck.
“Or you’re just reckless,” Mydei shot back, eyes narrowing.
And jsut to piss off Mydei even more, Phainon ignores Mydei's words and gazed at you like a puppy waiting for their owner to praise them.
"Go Phainon!!" You gave in and chuckled to see the absolute happiness on his face and the dread on your cousin's.
By the end, Mydei was frowning, sweat beading along his jaw, while Phainon was grinning like he’d just won the match—even though it was pretty clear the match had been a draw at best.
“Show-off,” Mydei muttered, stepping out of the ring without another word.
Phainon flopped down on the bench just outside the sparring ring, chest still rising and falling from exertion. A bead of sweat slid down his temple, catching the light. You were about to comment on how dramatic he’d been when your hands moved before your brain caught up, grabbing a folded cloth from your bag and stepping toward him.
He blinked up at you as you leaned down, pressing the fabric gently to his forehead. “You’re… wiping my face?” he said, voice oddly soft, almost curious.
“You’re dripping sweat everywhere,” you replied quickly, focusing on dabbing at his temple, the bridge of his nose, the stubborn streak of damp hair clinging to his cheek. But it was impossible not to notice how warm his skin felt under your touch, or the faint hitch in his breathing that had nothing to do with the sparring.
The world felt strangely quiet. You could hear your own pulse in your ears.
When you stepped back to pull away, his hand moved—fast but unthinking and closed gently around your wrist.
Your breath caught, and you jsut freeze up accepting your fate.
He tugged you forward, not enough to throw you off balance, but enough to close the space between you until you were standing over him, his head tilted back to meet your gaze. His eyes were bright, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your throat tighten.
Then, almost at the same time, you both let out an awkward little laugh, breaking the tension like snapping a fragile thread. You stepped back quickly, and he let go just as fast, though his smile lingered, softer now.
“Thanks for the… uh, towel service,” he said, running a hand through his damp hair.
“You’re welcome,” you muttered, as you quickly took your bags and told Phainon how you were heading back home.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
You slipped into your home with that same warm, fluttery feeling still lodged stubbornly in your chest.
The first thing you did was toss your bag aside and head straight for the bath. Warm water washed away the dust from the training grounds, but not the memory of Phainon’s bright grin… or the way his hand had lingered on your wrist. You caught yourself replaying it over and over, cheeks heating as though the steam wasn’t enough to blame.
By the time you finished, you changed into your favorite fluffy pajamas—the ones dotted with little strawberries that Aglaea made for you as a birthday present. Hair damp, skin still faintly warm from the bath, you flopped face-first onto your bed. The soft covers welcomed you, but your brain refused to settle.
Instead, you rolled over and stared at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot.
You could still see the look he gave you—half smug, AAA he looked so handsome !!. And the way he fought in the ring? It wasn’t just sparring. He’d been showing off for you. For you.
You kicked your feet under the blanket like a lovesick teenager. Titans, you were acting like a lovesick teenager.
Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you didn’t stop. You buried your face in your pillow, muffling the little giggle that escaped. You thought about all the little things—how he always found some excuse to hold your hand, how he somehow knew exactly what kind of gifts you’d like, how he looked at you sometimes like you were the only person in the world.
You exhaled into your pillow, heart doing that dangerous, reckless thing.
Yeah. You were gone. Completely gone for him.
You let yourself sink deeper into your bed, still smiling like a fool, drifting toward sleep with one last thought,
Yeah, I'll confess to him tomorrow <3
The next morning, you shot out of bed like someone had placed a thousand snakes on your bed.
You speed-ran your morning routine: face wash, toner, moisturizer, a touch of cherry-flavoured lip-gloss. You even reached for that one perfume you only ever wore on special occasions, light, fresh, just a hint of sweetness that made you feel like you were walking in a field of flowers.
You absolutely checked the mirror at least five times to make sure you didn’t look too obvious while still looking dangerously good.
The final touch sat waiting on your table: a small bouquet you’d put together yourself
This was it, No backing out now.
You reached for your teleslate, thumbs hovering over the screen before typing with shaky fingers:
You ♥: Hi Phainon!! Meet me at the Garden of Life in 10 mins :)
You stared at the message for all of half a second before pressing send.
Your heart started beating like it was trying to punch its way out of your chest. You placed the teleslate face-down, clutching the bouquet in both hands and jumping around in nervousness.
The Garden of Life wasn’t far, but on the walk there every step felt both way too long and way too short. The thought of him standing there, maybe curious, maybe smiling, made your stomach twist with giddiness.
The morning air was soft and refreshing, the weather was cloudy and not too cold, it was the perfect weather. The garden was quiet at this hour, dew still clinging to petals, the gentle trickle of the fountain echoing. You picked a spot just off the main path, where the blossoms framed you.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Phainon had been halfway walking around with the chimeras when his teleslate pinged.
He almost ignored it—until he saw your name
My lovely <33: Hi Phainon!! Meet me at the Garden of Life in 10 mins :)
For a moment, he just… stared. Then grinned. Then grinned wider. Then flopped backwards in his chair with the loudest, most crazed laugh that he had let out.
“Oh,” he whispered to himself, voice pitching up, “oh. Ohhh, this is happening—”
Without another thought, he leapt to his feet, almost knocking over his chair, and bolted down the hall in a blur of white and gold.
“Aglaea!”
The Demigod of romance herself looked up from her tea table, serene as ever, as she stirred sugar into her cup. Her expression didn’t change even when Phainon came skidding to a stop in front of her, looking like someone had set his heart on fire in the best possible way.
“Phainon,” she greeted smoothly like the silk she weaves, "What happened?"
He grinned so wide it made his cheeks hurt. “She asked me to meet her. Garden of Life. Ten minutes. TEN MINUTES, Aglaea. What do I wear? What do I smell like? What if my hair—”
“Breathe,” she said calmly, setting down her cup gently and looking up at him with the aura that would ease anyone down. “First, stand still before you run yourself into the ground.”
Aglaea quickly laid the outfit out with care, smoothing each crease before turning back to him. “Wash your face. Comb your hair. And use the sandalwood and rose fragrance—lightly.” Her gaze softened just a touch. “You want her to notice when she’s close enough… and you do want her close, don’t you?”
He nearly choked with an infuriating blush on his face. “Aglaea—!”
Her only response was the faintest smirk. “Shoes polished. No crumbs on your outfit. And… stand tall. You’re meeting your love, are you not? Let her see the true you and not a facade."
“And what’s that?” he asked, still grinning like an idiot.
Her smile gentled, all teasing melting into something fond. “A young man who’s very much in love.”
Phainon froze for a heartbeat—then laughed, giddy and light. “Yeah… yeah, I am.”
By the time he was dressed, and a hint of perfume clinging to his collar, he was already halfway to the Garden in his head.
And if he was giggling under his breath the whole way there like some love-struck fool? Well. Aglaea didn’t say a word. But she did watch him go with the faintest, most knowing smile.
"May Mnestia bless you, Phainon."
Phainon came into view like he’d just run a marathon and somehow still looked like he belonged on thecover of a divine fashion catalog. His hair was just slightly mussed from running, cheeks flushed, that white-and-gold outfit crisp and perfect save for the way it swayed with every fast step.
“(Name)!” he called, breathless and bright, as though the world had narrowed down to you alone. “I—sorry—I came as fast as I—”
You didn’t let him finish.
You took one step forward, shoved the flowers into his hands, and blurted out, “I love you.”
Silence.
The birds kept singing. The wind still carried the scent of roses. Somewhere, a bee buzzed lazily past.
Phainon just stared at you. And stared. And stared. Like his brain had been replaced with static.
You fidgeted under his gaze. “…Phainon?”
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “…wait. Wait—what?”
You tilted your head, suddenly unsure. “I… said I love you?”
“Yes, yes, I heard that part,” he said quickly, clutching the flowers like they were now some kind of holy relic. “But-” His brows furrowed, his voice dropping into genuine bafflement. “Why are you saying it like it’s a confession?”
“…Because it is?” you offered slowly.
Phainon just stared. Then he tilted his head so far it was a miracle it didn’t snap off. “…You mean to tell me… you thought we weren’t already dating?”
Your jaw dropped. “We—what?!”
“Oh titans.” He slapped his forehead, groaning dramatically, pacing in a little circle. “All this time—walking you home, buying you gifts, holding your hand, inviting you to sparring matches, calling you my lovely, spending every waking moment with you—what did you think that was?!”
“I— I dunno! I thought you were just… really affectionate?”
Phainon stopped dead in his tracks, looked at you for three long seconds, and then let out the most exasperated laugh you’d ever heard. “You—! You adorable, oblivious—!” He dropped the flowers onto a bench, stepped forward, and cupped your face with both hands.
“You’re my girl,” he said firmly, almost like he was reestablishing divine law. “You’ve been mine and i’ve been yours ♥ The whole realm probably knows but you!”
You just blinked at him, stunned and blushing furiously, while his expression softened into that lovesick smile he always got when he looked at you. “But fine,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “if you want a proper start, then… I love you too. Officially. Again.”
His thumbs were still resting on your cheeks, the warmth of his palms cradling your face, when his grin widened into something boyish and almost too bright to look at.
“Okay but-” he leaned in slightly, eyes darting between your gaze and your lips like he was physically restraining himself, “-can I kiss you? Like… properly? Right now?”
The way he asked wasn’t smooth or calculated in the slightest—it was genuine, eager, like he's bouncing-on-his-heels excited.
You couldn’t even answer before he started rambling. “Because if you say yes, I swear I’m going to do it right here, right now, and probably never stop. I’ve been wanting to for so long and I thought I was already kissing you in all but name—oh Titans, I’m so kissing you if you—”
“Phainon.”
He stopped, blinking, tail wagging in an almost visible way despite him not having one. “…Yeah?”
You smiled. “Yes.”
He lit up like you’d just given him the sun itself. “Yes?!”
“Yes.”
“Oh Titans, yes—” He swooped in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was somehow both clumsy and perfect, like he didn’t know whether to hold you close or bounce in excitement. His hands slid from your cheeks to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and he laughed into the kiss, breathless and giddy.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let go, resting his forehead against yours with the happiest grin you’d ever seen. “I’m never letting you live this down, you know. My girlfriend thought she wasn’t my girlfriend—oh, the teasing rights I have now.”
“Phainon—”
“Shhh.” He kissed your nose. “Just let me have this. You said you love me.” Another kiss to your cheek. "You're my girl now :D"
@noisy-seelie, @usagiarchive, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @santaluna i spent 6 hours on this
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