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[vxnuslogy]

published on 16.02.25.           ۪      𝅄        penned by vxnuslogy.           ۪      𝅄        published by @stellaronhvnters 

❛ i have lived a thousand lives ; all of which never belonged to me. ❜

rules  ノ  tags  ノ  m.list  ノ  wips  ノ  taglist  ノ  mutuals  ノ  requests: closed .ᐟ

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites. art credits to @.1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ on twitter.

[vxnuslogy]

regarding my inactivity on this account [ ★ ]

hello loves, it's vee again! i know i said on my last post that i'd post a new fic this month but i'm sad to say that i don't think i'll ever post on this account again TT

i already have a bad habit of going mia and disappearing in general but i did try—i hope you understand that i tried to stay in love with this account. but i just couldn't—i can't— anymore. it's only been a year, and i was so close to another milestone ( 1k followers ), but i've really just fallen out of love with the user vxnuslogy.

by no means am i quitting writing ( though there have been times where i considered it ). i've just decided to start anew—go by a different name and a different account. will it help solve my tendency to go mia? no, i don't think so. but it feels more aligned with who i am currently and what i want right now.

i have made so many memories on this account, and met so many people i can call friends. please know that i love you all, and i wouldn't be here without your utmost support and encouragement. to my mutuals, if you'd like to stay in touch, you may ask for my new account.

with all my love,

— vee ♥

[vxnuslogy]

*comes to your blog bc damn you write good shit* *get flash banged at 1:30 AM*

oomf im so sorry for laughing and flash banging you 😭🙏

[vxnuslogy]

guys im alive i swear, ive just been consumed with the urge to know everything about solo leveling TT ANYWAYS!! new fic might drop around the first/second week of may for anaxa so yippie!!! ( disclaimer this fic was written pre-3.2 and is probably ooc but it's angst so... )

[lowkeyren]

—how to win my husband over 101

in which : you marry the ruthless prince of kremnos, and everyone says you'll never thaw his heart. but you’re nothing if not stubborn. surely all you have to do is win him over right? how hard can that be?

wc 8.7k (it’s worth it trust me), historical au, marriage of convenience, sunshine x grumpy, strangers to lovers, you fell first + he fell harder, fem reader referred to as “princess” / “milady”, ts burns so slow u might rip ur hair out sorry, heavily ib how to get my husband on my side. art by @/kannbergri on x.

surprise pookies @vxnuslogy @luvether @knnichs @kazucee it’s finally here!!!!

PROLOGUE: HOW TO SURVIVE THE EARLY DAYS

you married a stranger to save your homeland.

there was no love in the arrangement, no romantic vows exchanged beneath moonlit skies, no promises of forever whispered in soft voices. just firm handshakes and signatures inked on parchment. 

it was a straightforward agreement: kremnos would protect your people in exchange for a union, and you were sent to marry the crown prince, mydeimos, to solidify the alliance.

you had heard his name long before you ever saw his face. prince mydeimos of kremnos —a name whispered with reverence, with fear, with awe; carrying the weight of countless victories carved into the blood-soaked chaos of battlefields.

but none of those stories prepared you for the reality of him.

the grand hall of kremnos' palace feels colder than you imagined.

marble floors stretch endlessly beneath your feet, polished to a gleaming perfection that seems to reflect the distance between you and the life awaiting you here. the walls, adorned with banners of deep reds and golds, do little to warm the oppressive air.

servants pass by in hushed movements, their heads bowed, their whispers inaudible. the air carries the faint aroma of polished wood and lingering incense, yet there is no warmth to be found —not in the hall, not from the people, and certainly not from the man standing at the far end of the room.

you bow slightly out of instinct, a gesture of respect, though you feel foolish doing so in the context of your marriage.

dressed in the royal garb of kremnos, a deep red cloak embroidered with gold thread draped over his shoulders, his marigold eyes lock onto yours with piercing intensity. 

“princess,” he greets you, his words polished to a fault —exactly what you’d expect from a prince.

“your highness,” you reply, matching his formality.

“welcome to kremnos, i trust the journey was not too difficult.” 

it’s not a question, you realize. merely a statement to acknowledge your presence. you offer a polite nod, “the journey was smooth, your highness,” you reply, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your chest. “thank you for your hospitality.”

you watch as he takes a glass of reddish liquid from a servant standing nearby, lifting it to his lips with ease, the vibrant color catching your eye.

the rich crimson hue seems too unnatural for something as mundane as wine. your gaze fixes on the glass as he drinks, a chill running down your spine as an unsettling thought creeps in.

is he drinking... blood?

your heart skips, a sudden nervousness, and you quickly avert your gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

he catches your stare however, “what is it that you find so fascinating?” 

flustered, you lower your head, stammering, "i... beg your pardon, your highness.”

you can feel your pulse quicken, the heat rising in your cheeks as you panic. the weight of his cold gaze is almost unbearable, and you fear you’ve already made a fool of yourself. 

for a moment, you dare not look at him, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you.

the prince casually wipes the red liquid from his lips with the back of his hand, as your eyes drift involuntarily toward the glass once more, still questioning its contents.

his eyes flicker to you as they narrow, “still curious?”

you freeze, wrecking your head for a sensible answer lest you further embarrass yourself.

with a sharp sigh, he places the glass down on the tray. “it’s pomegranate juice, nothing more.”

you blink, stunned for a moment, the absurdity of your previous assumption crashing down on you. 

“pomegranate juice,” you repeat softly, as if testing the words to see if they make sense.

“yes. is that so difficult to believe?”

that night, you lay on the luxurious bed in your chamber, the events of the evening swirling in your mind. you shake your head, embarrassed by your own overactive imagination. 

you turn onto your side, pulling the heavy blankets tighter around you, but sleep evades you.

yes, your husband is a man of few words, fewer emotions, and absolutely no warmth when it comes to you. yet within that frost lies a heart, waiting for the right touch to thaw it.

ACT I: HOW TO DRAW HIS ATTENTION

over the weeks, you've learned many peculiar things about your husband. 

you’ve noticed, for instance, that he always rises before dawn, and spends hours in the training grounds perfecting his form —an unyielding warrior at heart. or how he has an unusual preference for adding goat's milk to his pomegranate juice, a combination that strikes you as strange yet somehow fitting for him. 

you’ve also discovered that, contrary to expectations, he favors the color pink —an oddly delicate choice for a man so rigid in his demeanor. and while he is undeniably polite, he also remains stern and is not one to easily open up, not even to those closest to him.

all that you've learned, you’ve used in an attempt to earn his favor, though your effort often feels like trying to breach a concrete wall.

(one day, you deliberately rise early, before the sun fully breaks over the horizon, and make your way to the training grounds.

there, you find a concealed spot in the shadows, watching him spar with the guards. you’ve gone, in part, because you want him to know you care, but also because of the impressive display of his skill that subconsciously draws you in. 

it’s not long before he notices your presence; his expression remains impassive, but his gaze hardens, narrowing slightly as he observes you making your way to him from across the field.

as you finally reach him, you extend the water in your hand. but just as you take a step closer, your foot catches on an uneven stone. you stumble forward, crashing into him, and spilling the cold water across his chest. 

the gasp that escapes you is quickly followed by frantic apologies.

"princess," he says coolly, the water dripping from his toned muscles, tracing the lines of his broad shoulders and down his chest. "...are you always this clumsy, or is today a special occasion?"

ah. 

well at least he has jokes..?)

or after noticing how he often stays silent during meals, you decide to change the pace. 

(at the dining hall, you ask about his interests, but he only gives brief, impersonal responses; his attention fixed on his plate, quietly indulging in the honey-drenched pancakes. you try to make a lighthearted joke, but he doesn’t even look up, offering only a polite “i see” before the silence drapes over the table again.

so, you finally decide to try a more… direct approach —flattery. surely, no man can resist a little charm, right?

you lean close as you gather all the courage you can muster, batting your eyelashes at him hoping you appear as endearing as you intend.

"i must say, my dear husband, you —uh, you are unmatched in your… strength and wisdom. it’s no wonder my heart can’t help but be drawn to you..?”

well that didn’t exactly sound convincing. 

“and… your arms, they’re quite impressive. i mean —wait, that’s not what i meant—”

and that certainly didn’t make it any better!

you brace yourself, expecting a sharp rebuke or, at the very least, some irritation. but instead, he simply nods, offering a brief, detached “thank you” before turning his attention back to his meal. 

you immediately avert your gaze, feeling a pang of relief. though it’s strange to think that at any moment, your husband might decide to chop your head off for being so foolish (...if he felt so inclined) he is the crowned prince, after all; and while his politeness is unsettling, it’s still better than his wrath... right?)

either way, it’s clear that your efforts have made not the slightest dent. better luck next time!

today will be different.

failure has never sat well with you, and after last night’s mortifying attempt at charming your husband, you refuse to let things end on such a dismal note. if words fail, then perhaps actions will speak louder.

so, with a woven basket tucked under your arm, you wander through the palace gardens first, where roses and marigolds flourish in a riot of color, their petals unfurling like delicate silk under the afternoon sun. honeysuckle vines twist gracefully around the trellises, their sweet fragrance lingering in the warm afternoon air.

you kneel amidst the blooms, fingers brushing over soft petals, feeling the gentle give of each flower beneath your touch. carefully, you pluck a few of each, tucking them gently into your basket, mindful of their fragile stems. you arrange them just so, already picturing the bouquet coming together in your hands.

but as you wander further, you find yourself drawn toward the edge of the estate. past the hedgerows and beyond the garden’s stone pathway, you notice something that catches your eye, a cluster of wildflowers —soft pinks and gentle whites.

perfect! these will be the finishing touch to complete your bouquet for mydeimos.

pleased with yourself, you smile and make your way toward the water’s edge. leaning forward, you stretch out to pluck one, your body lowering toward the ground, shifting your weight slightly, when—

a sudden force slams into your back.

the breath is knocked clean from your lungs. there's no time to react as the world tilts violently, and before you can even scream, the cold shock of water swallows you whole.

it’s deeper than you thought.

icy water rushes into your nose and mouth, sending a searing burn down your throat. panic grips you as the world above fractures into shimmering light, distorted by the rippling surface. you try to push yourself up, but alas, the weight of your dress still drags you down. 

as you thrash around uselessly, your limbs start growing heavier. the surface above you slips further away; and the last thing you register is the sensation of strong arms wrapping around you —with a final strained breath, your vision dims to nothingness.

the next thing you feel is warmth.

your head rests against something solid, a steady rise and fall beneath your cheek .a firm hold keeps you close, one braced securely around your back, the other hooked beneath your knees. 

you blink sluggishly, your lashes heavy with water. that’s when you realise, you’re in the arms of your husband.

his hair clings to his forehead, damp strands framing the sharp angles of his face. droplets trace slow paths down his jawline, soaking into the dark fabric of his tunic —leaving nothing to the imagination.

for a moment, disoriented and breathless, you can only blink up at him.

did he jump in after you..?

“why did you wander off alone?” he chastises, snapping you back to reality. 

your throat feels tight, your heart hammering in your chest. "i-i just wanted to do something for you!" the confession spills from your lips, desperate, your fingers clinging instinctively to the soaked fabric of his sleeve. 

it’s foolish, maybe, but you’re still reeling —from the near drowning, from the fact that mydeimos saved you. 

he exhales sharply, exasperation heavy in his breath. "why are you like this…" his grip tightens on you, but there’s a tension in his voice as if he’s swallowing something he can’t quite put into words. “didn’t i say there’s no need to attract attention this way?"

the accusation stings, your brows knit together as you shake your head, droplets of water slipping down your temples. "i just… thought you’d like some flowers."

his fingers, still curled beneath your back, twitch slightly, his hold unconsciously steadying you.

“you don’t need to do anything reckless just to get my attention," he murmurs at last, his voice softer now, no longer edged with frustration. then, almost hesitantly, he adds, "...if you want something, just come to me."

mydeimos shifts, adjusting his hold on you before finally rising to his feet. the movement is effortless, but even so, a sharp chill runs through you as the air bites at your damp skin. before you can fully steady yourself, he places you down, his hands lingering for a second longer than necessary before withdrawing.

your dress clings uncomfortably to you, heavy with water, and when you glance down, you spot the basket lying a short distance away, half-tilted on the grass. the flowers you so carefully picked are scattered around it, petals crumpled, stems bent. 

a pit forms in your stomach. all that effort, and now—

a shadow moves beside you. mydeimos steps forward, the hem of his cloak grazing against the fallen blooms. he considers them for a moment, then looks back at you.

“well?” his voice is steady, and you can’t quite grasp the intention behind it. “you went through all that trouble to gather the flowers… aren’t you going to give them to me?”

sure they're not nearly as perfect as they were when you first picked them. still, you kneel, fingers brushing over the damp grass as you carefully pick up the least damaged flowers, smoothing out the crumpled petals as best you can.

“…here.” slowly, hesitantly, you extend the bouquet towards him. 

his fingers brush against yours as he accepts the flowers. “sorry they’re ruined,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

he shakes his head, unbothered. “they’re mine now, so i’ll take care of them.”

there’s no mockery in his expression, no disdain for your failed efforts. if anything, there’s something almost unreadable in the way he looks at you, something that makes your heart lurch against your ribs.

he spares you one last glance, then turns. “come. you need to get changed before you fall ill.”

and just like that, your husband walks ahead, idly twirling one of the flowers between his fingers. hardened steel and soft petals, strength and fragility; it doesn't look out of place. 

somehow, it fits him too well.

ACT II: HOW TO CARE FOR A WARRIOR

once a year, the empire erupts into feverish anticipation for the annual gladiatorial tournament. a traditional competition of strength, bloodshed, and sheer willpower.

held in the heart of the capital, within the city of kremnos; warriors from across the kingdom —such as knights from noble houses, seasoned mercenaries, and ambitious upstarts, all gather within the grand coliseum, each vying for glory, honor, or a place in history.

and three weeks from now, the coliseum will roar with life, filled to the brim with nobles and commoners alike, all eager to witness the blood and glory that’ll unfold within the arena. 

the tournament may be weeks away, but mydeimos knows better than to grow complacent. 

within the castle training grounds, the clash of steel echoes through the air, each strike reverberating like a war drum. two figures move in relentless rhythm, locked in a sparring match that is as much a dance as it is a battle.

mydeimos meets his opponent’s strike head-on; phainon, captain of the royal knights, his equal in skill if not in strength, matches him blow for blow. the force of the impact ripples through his arm, but he does not waver. instead, he swiftly pivots, forcing mydeimos onto the defensive.

the crown prince presses forward, his sword carving ruthless arcs through the air, a feint —then a sudden, brutal swing aimed at his opponent’s side. 

phainon barely manages to parry, their blades grinding against each other in a fierce deadlock. exhaling sharply through his nose, he holds firm against the pressure. “mydei,” phainon mutters, breathless. “don't hold back."

mydei’s gaze remains unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something —amusement, perhaps, before he abruptly shifts his weight. with a sharp twist, he breaks the deadlock.

“HKS,” he counters, shoving forward with enough strength to force phainon back a step. “getting tired?”

phainon lets out a short laugh, adjusting his stance. “not in the slightest.” he disengages, spinning his blade in a quick counterstrike.

alas, the fight reaches no clear victor, ending in yet another stalemate.

exhaling, phainon lowers his blade. “not bad.”

but before mydei can respond; a slow, warm trickle down his arm draws his attention. his gaze flickers downward —a thin slash mars his bicep, blood welling along the cut.

the knight’s expression shifts, eyes catching on the wound. “heh looks like i take the win this time,” he gloats, though there’s a slightest hint of concern in his tone. 

“...though i do apologise, your highness,” phainon says, eyeing the wound with a tilt of his head.

mydei rolls his shoulder, testing the ache, then huffs. “nothing to be sorry for.” his lips curl slightly, eyes flicking back to phainon.

“but don’t think this means i’m letting you off easy. we’ll settle it properly next time.”

“oh? and here i thought you’d take the loss with dignity for once,” phainon snorts, sheathing his blade in one smooth motion. “but i suppose i wouldn’t want you growing too accustomed to losing.”

“you land one lucky hit and suddenly you’re talking like you’ve dethroned me.” mydei scoffs, already turning toward the weapons rack. phainon watches him go, shaking his head to himself before following suit. 

mydei doesn’t know why you’re worrying so much.

the cut is insignificant, to him at least. within hours, it’ll be gone —his body already stitching itself back together. he doesn’t need tending to, least of all by you.

and yet, here you are.

as you sit beside him, your hands deftly press a cloth soaked in cool water to his wound, cleaning away the dried blood with careful strokes. for some reason, seeing you like this —fussing over him with a tenderness he’s never quite experienced before —renders him quiet.

“…you’re frowning,” he murmurs.

“because you’re hurt,” you say as a matter of factly, setting the cloth aside before reaching for a bandage. your fingers are gentle as they smooth it over his skin, lightly tracing the curves of his biceps.

he watches the way your lips press together, tying the final knot with a delicate tug, patting the fabric down as if to reassure yourself that it will hold.

something tugs at the edge of his mind. 

you’ve pretended to love him ever since you stepped foot in kremnos; he thought he knew every expression you wore, every feigned tenderness. but this —this time, it’s different. there’s no audience here, no need for the carefully crafted role of the adoring wife.

so why do you still look at him like that?

his breath stills. he doesn’t know what to make of this.

“…please be more careful next time.” mydei glances at his arm, the ache is already fading.

you don’t know how pointless all of this is. by morning, there won’t even be a scar.

you exhale softly, your brows still furrowed in concern. then, as if unable to help yourself, your fingertips ghost over the bandage, smoothing it down with a tenderness that makes his chest tighten.

“does it still hurt?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

he should say no. he should tell you it’s nothing.

but when he looks at you —sees the way your eyes linger on him, so earnestly unguarded. he falters. 

“…not much,” he admits instead. “you act as if i’m on death’s door.”

“and you act as if you’re invincible,” you retort softly.

he freezes.

he almost laughs at the irony of it —because in some ways, you aren’t wrong. his body will always mend itself, his wounds never lasting long enough to be of real consequence. 

but his darling wife doesn’t know that.

and perhaps that’s why he lets you worry, lets you dote on him with such sweet, unknowing devotion. because, against all logic —against everything he’s told himself, he finds that he likes it.

your touch finally retreats, hands settling in your lap. “i’ll leave you to rest, your highness.”

you rise from your seat, and as you turn to leave, mydei catches himself watching the space where your hands had been, the phantom warmth still resting against his skin.

for a wound that’s already gone, he finds it strange —how reluctant he is to let it fade.

ACT III: HOW TO AVOID MISUNDERSTANDINGS

"sir phainon, thank you for showing me around the city," you say, offering the man beside you a faint smile as you step around a corner. 

the knight dips his head, “of course, milady. the pleasure’s all mine."

you’re glad phainon took time off to accompany you —wandering the city alone would’ve definitely left you lost and stewing in your own thoughts. 

phainon glances at you, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. "but i’m surprised his highness let you wander the city with another man," he muses. 

you let out a small laugh, running your fingers along the petals of a flower display as you pass by. "well, i don’t think he cares."

phainon’s steps slow, his brow lifting ever so slightly, as if he isn’t sure whether he misheard you or if you’re simply playing coy. "you don’t think he—" he exhales a sharp chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "hah. now that’s funny."

you shoot a puzzled look at him,"what is?"

to phainon, who’s seen the way mydei looks at you, heard the way he speaks of you; your words make no sense at all.

—but he holds his tongue. "nothing, milady. let’s keep walking before i say something i shouldn’t."

the warmth of the moment sours when you round a corner near the market square. there, just past a cluster of gossiping nobles, mydei stands stiffly, arms crossed as he listens to a young woman speak.

you recognize her —a lady-in-waiting that serves in the palace.

“…always playing the victim,” she sneers, voice pitched just loud enough to draw attention. “everyone pities her, but really, she’s just an outsider to kremnos—” 

your steps falter, confusion flickering across your face. is that lady… talking about you?

“she was never worthy of standing by his highness’s side!” the lady continues with simpering disdain. 

beside you, your companion stiffens, his fingers subtly curling at his sides. he’s noticed, too.

but before you can fully process the words, she lets out a haughty laugh. “she tripped herself that day. i only gave her a little push and—”

“what?” mydei’s voice cuts through the air, his eyes narrowing. 

the lady startles, whipping around to face him, but quickly smooths her expression into one of feigned innocence. “y-your highness…” she lowers her head just slightly. “i only meant that a mere nudge shouldn’t have been enough to send her stumbling so helplessly.” 

she offers a small, demure smile. “unless, of course, one lacks the grace befitting a princess.”

“it was unfortunate that your highness was troubled because of—” 

her words trail off as her gaze flicks to the side, right where you stand.

and in that fleeting moment, mydei follows her line of sight.

your breath catches. you hadn’t meant to be seen.

a small, almost imperceptible smirk forms on her lips; just as mydei glances to your side, his attention diverted for a split second; she falls toward him, her body angling toward him in a way that all but demands he steady her.

you feel a jolt of realization —her intentions are clear as day towards you. 

mydei’s eyes barely flicker as she topples toward him, but his hand moves —not to steady her, as she so clearly intended, but to seize her wrist in a firm, unyielding grip.

with a sharp tug, he wrenches her upright, the motion not even close to an act of chivalry. 

a startled gasp slips past her lips, her wide eyes darting up, stunned by the strength of his hold. the gathered onlookers murmur amongst themselves as the prince fixes her with a cold, unreadable stare.

“tell me. are you purposely trying to cause a misunderstanding between me and my wife?”

the lady blanches, her mouth opening and closing as she scrambles for a response. “y-your highness, i would never—”

“spare me the excuses.” his fingers uncoil, and she stumbles back, barely catching herself.  she cradles her wrist as though burned, whether from pain or humiliation, it’s hard to tell.

“guards.” mydeimos doesn’t raise his voice, but the command rings clear. two armored figures stationed nearby immediately step forward,  “take her away.”

 “y-your highness, i only—”

mydeimos doesn’t even spare her a glance as he delivers the lady’s fate. “for daring to put her hands on the princess, she is to be punished accordingly. let this serve as a reminder, such conduct has no place in my court.”

the color drains from her face as the guards seize her by the arms, her protests falling on deaf ears. the onlookers part to make way, some exchanging knowing glances, others whispering amongst themselves.

then mydeimos’ gaze softens —only slightly, in your direction. 

phainon leans in, “and yet, milady insists that his highness does not care?”

but you don’t respond, heart fluttering traitorously in your chest as mydeimos turns on his heel and strides toward you.

with a small tilt of his head, he nods to phainon before finally speaking.

“she was desperate,” he remarks, voice edged with dry amusement. “did you see how she threw herself at me? pitiful.”

he studies you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “...you weren’t fooled, were you?”

you blink, caught off guard by his question. “of course not, your highness.”

ah. was he worried you’d misunderstand?

his lips part slightly, but no words come, instead he just exhales softly, as if to himself. “good.”

phainon, ever perceptive, arches a brow but says nothing of it. instead, he steps back with a knowing tilt of his head. “well then, i shall take my leave. duty calls, after all, milady, your highness.” with that, he turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd, leaving just the two of you.

mydei’s eyes linger on you —searching, almost reluctant, before he finally tears his gaze away. “we should go.”

he starts walking, and you follow, the quiet rhythm between you shifting in a way that's hard to place. it’s subtle, so subtle that if you weren’t paying enough attention, you might’ve missed it. 

the way his steps fall in sync with yours, slowing his usually large strides ever so slightly,  as if unconsciously matching your pace. the way his hand hovers near yours, close enough that if you swayed even slightly, your fingers might brush.

it doesn’t feel intentional, and yet, it doesn’t feel like an accident either.

the marketplace hums around you both; vendors calling out their wares, the scent of fresh bread and spices curling through the air. but your mind is elsewhere, lingering on the man beside you, on the things left unsaid.

at some point, curiosity gets the better of you. “your highne—” “mydei.”

…would it be foolish of you to think of it as a plea? that, beneath the indifference he wears so well, he cares how his name sounds when spoken by you?

(because with you, he doesn't need to be the prince of kremnos, nor the valiant warrior they call mydeimos. he’s just your husband, mydei.)

you glance up at him, but his gaze stays ahead. he doesn’t offer an explanation; your thoughts linger on that single word, and maybe that’s why, after a moment’s hesitation, you decide to give it a try.

“mydei… what were you doing in the market today?”

he doesn’t answer right away. a terribly fond smile tugging at his lips. 

he looks good like this, you think.

with a glance to the side, he replies, “nothing of importance.”

a half-truth, at best.

your thoughts drift back to the last time you were here —the flowers you had given him, bright and delicate in his hands. an odd sight, perhaps, yet somehow, they suited him.

a ridiculous thought takes root before you can stop it.

could he have been looking for ways to take care of them? …surely not.

but any doubt vanishes the moment a florist calls out to him. “your highness! you’ve returned! here, this is the care guide you requested, along with the special fertilizer. it should help the flowers bloom beautifully.”

mydei takes the offered items with a nod, thanking the florist who beams, clearly pleased to be of service.

"you must truly cherish them, your highness," they remark. "not many would go through such trouble for a simple bouquet."

mydei only hums in response, tucking the items away as he turns back to you. for a moment, it almost seems like he might explain himself, but instead, he merely lifts a brow, as if daring you to say something about it.

warmth unfurls at the edges of your chest, spreading slowly, irresistibly.

you press your lips together, fighting the smile threatening to surface. "so," you muse lightly, "you’ve been taking good care of my flowers?”

mydei exhales, the ghost of an amused smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "it would be a shame if they wilted so soon,” he says. then, as he starts walking again, a quiet afterthought —so soft you almost miss it.

"especially when they were a gift from you."

and this time, when his hand hovers close to yours, you don’t resist the urge to let your fingers brush.

ACT IV: HOW TO TAME HIS JEALOUS HEART

it’s late —past the hour most would retire, yet the training grounds remains lit by torches that flicker against the cool stone walls, their flames casting long, dancing shadows. mydeimos leans back against the walls, arms loosely folded across his chest as his gaze follows phainon sharpening his blade a few paces away —though, truthfully, his thoughts are elsewhere.

it’s phainon who breaks the silence first.

“you know,” he starts, glancing up without looking directly at the prince, “you’re awfully quiet these days, your highness.”

he wipes his sword down lazily, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "...say, mydei."

mydei doesn’t look up, but his posture shifts, "what?"

phainon lets the silence drag for a moment, almost like he’s weighing his next words. 

“do you have genuine feelings for [name]?"

the words land like a blow in the silence between them; he doesn’t bother to wait for an answer.

“because if you don’t, i was thinking maybe i’d give courting her a try.”

ah. that does it.

mydei’s eyes flick to him, and if looks could kill, phainon would be six feet under —and the former wouldn’t even spare the effort to toss dirt over his grave.

phainon laughs quietly under his breath at his comrade’s reaction, not bothering to hide the tilt of his mouth. 

“don’t cross the line.” the words fall from mydei’s lips, low and clipped like a warning.

phainon laughs —the kind of laugh shared only between men who’ve known each other long enough to grow used to the other’s sharp edges.

“relax,” he drawls, sheathing his blade with a lazy flick. “i was just joking, you can stop glaring at me now.”

“i’m not mad i—”

“you’re not mad because you think i meant it,” he cuts in. “you’re angry because you know i’m right. you’ve been walking around pretending like she doesn’t mean a thing to you, bottling up every damn thing you feel for her. if it were anyone else, they’d have given up by now.”

mydei looks away. “she’s not anyone else,” he mutters. 

phainon smiles. “then tell her.”

mydei stays uncharacteristically silent as phainon steps past with a clap on his shoulder. “you're lucky she’s patient.”

the sour look on your husband’s face whenever phainon’s name comes up is a recent development. 

you first noticed it in passing: an almost imperceptible downturn of his lips, a restrained (but still noticeable) eyeroll or the press of his lips into a tight line. at first, you thought nothing of it. but lately… it’s been happening a lot.

right now, you’re seated in the castle’s sunlit tea room with someone you can now call a friend —phainon. the scent of fresh brews curls in the air, warm and comforting, but it does little to soothe the frustration tightening in your chest.

phainon leans back in his seat as you lay your troubles before him. surely, as one of mydei’s closest friends, he could offer some worthwhile advice on how to win the latter’s heart.

because at this rate, if you don’t manage to win him over before your contract runs its course, you wouldn’t be surprised to wake up with his sword cold against the nape of your neck.

“so… what do you think?” you ask, poking at a pastry with your fork.

phainon hums, tilting his head in thought. “he’s a reserved man —you’ve probably figured that out by now. give him some time, he’s the type to take forever to realize what’s right in front of him.”

he shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “though, i do hope milady won’t give up on him just yet.”

you nod, committing his words to memory, but then he suddenly straightens, that familiar glint of mischief lighting his gaze.

“actually,” he muses, glancing down at his hands, now dusted with crumbs and icing, “my hands are a bit of a mess from this cake. mind doing me a favor?” 

he lifts his sugar-coated fingers in emphasis.

you eye him suspiciously. “...what kind of favor?”

phainon tilts his head, his smile just sly enough to make you wary. “feed me.”

narrowing your eyes, you scoff at his request, “look, buster—”

“just this once,” he interrupts, grinning. “think of it as repaying me for my advice.”

there’s something almost too innocent about the way he leans in, like he’s well aware of what he’s doing… or rather, what exactly might happen if a certain someone were to walk in.

still, with an exaggerated sigh, you pick up a piece of pastry and lift it towards him—

only for a firm grip to catch your wrist before you can.

just your luck.

mydei smoothly takes the sweet straight from your fingers, his lips brushing against your fingertips in the process; his gaze locked onto yours as he takes a bite. 

and before you can pull away —the barest hint of his tongue swipes against the sugar-dusted tips of your fingers, licking away the faint trace of sweetness left behind.

did he just—?

heat rushes to your face. your mouth parts, but no sound comes out.

phainon whistles lowly. “oh yeah i forgot to mention,” he says, far too amused.

“the prince has a sweet tooth.”

for a moment, the only sound in the room is the soft clink of porcelain as phainon sets down his teacup, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement.

all you can do is stare —frozen, pulse skittering in your throat. 

mydei, on the other hand, is utterly unbothered. if anything, he looks as composed as ever, chewing leisurely, as if he didn’t just—

your fingers twitch in his grasp. finally, he releases your wrist, his touch lingering just a second too long before he pulls away.

you snatch your hand back like you’ve been burned, curling your fingers against your palm as if that will erase the phantom heat of his lips, the fleeting press of his tongue.

phainon wonders if he’s about to be thrown out of the castle with the way you and mydei glare at him (for different reasons, respectively)... but judging by his smirk, he finds the risk well worth it.

the annual gladiatorial tournament is only days away, and kremnos is already stirring with anticipation. you’ve heard the chatter in the halls, the wagers placed on champions, the hushed whispers of which warriors will rise and which will fall. 

seated on a bench near the training grounds, you let the rhythmic clash of weapons fade into background noise, your focus trained instead on the fabric in your hands. a delicate handkerchief, its edges carefully stitched, the embroidery thread gliding through with each careful motion of your needle.

you had learned from a few noble ladies: it’s tradition for warriors to receive tokens of fortune from their beloveds —most commonly, a handkerchief embroidered with care to carry into battle as a reminder that someone’s waiting for them to return.

before you, the clash of steel rings out as two men spar. you glance up just in time to see phainon nimbly dodge a particularly heavy swing, a grin tugging at his lips. “feeling a little aggressive today, aren’t we?”

mydei doesn’t respond. he simply readjusts his grip on his sword, his expression unreadable.

(if you had to put money on why mydei was more aggressive than usual, you’d wager it had something to do with that stunt phainon pulled a few days ago that had left the former in such a foul mood.)

you return to your stitching, pretending not to notice the way your husband’s eyes flicker toward you between exchanges. unknowingly, a small smile tugs at your lips as you press the needle through the cloth once more.

rumors had circulated for years that prince mydeimos had never once accepted a handkerchief from anyone. not from the ladies who fawned over him at court, not from the admirers who sighed at the sight of his swordsmanship, not even from those with the highest of pedigrees.

it was said that no handkerchief had ever found its way into his hands, let alone remained in his possession. you weren’t sure why; perhaps he found them frivolous, or maybe he had no interest in sentimental keepsakes when he relied on skill alone to survive.

…which didn’t exactly bode well for the one currently in your hands.

so as you carefully stitch your embroidery, you don’t hold out much hope that he’ll accept yours either. 

still, it wouldn’t do for the beloved wife of mydeimos to be the only one who hadn’t even offered her husband a handkerchief. whether he accepted it or not was secondary —your duty was to at least play the part expected of you.

as the sparring match winds down, mydei steps off to the side, catching his breath. you discreetly watch as him roll his shoulders, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.

you glance back down at your embroidery, but before you can add another stitch, phainon strides up to you, shaking out his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “ow… you saw that, right?” he whines, flopping down beside you with an exaggerated sigh. “he’s being so rough with me today!”

you arch a brow, biting back a laugh as he leans against the edge of the bench. “poor thing,” you say, amused. “what did you do to deserve it?”

phainon grins. “absolutely nothing, milady.”

you shake your head, obviously unconvinced —but then, just like that, his playful pout melts into a coprophagous grin that spells nothing but trouble. 

oh no.

“if he wants to be mean,” he muses, tilting his head, “then maybe i should give him a reason for it.”

you frown. “phainon—”

he says, far too casually, “i think i’ve got an idea.”

he leans in slightly, a wolfish grin on his face. “just play along, alright?”

“huh?”

"here, let me show you something." before you can react, phainon takes your hand, pulling you up from your seat with ease. a moment later, a wooden practice sword is tossed into your grasp.

you barely have time to protest before he’s already behind you, his hands resting lightly over yours as he adjusts your grip.

"see?" his voice is low, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath near your ear. "you hold it like this, and—"

“that’s enough.”

both you and phainon turn to see mydei standing a few feet away. he doesn’t look outwardly furious, but there’s the tension in his shoulders says enough.

phainon merely raises an eyebrow. “oh? something wrong, your highness?”

the air thickens and you can practically feel the sparks flying. sensing the storm that’s about to break, you quickly slip out of phainon’s grasp and rush toward mydei, practically throwing yourself into his arms.

“mydei!” you call, mustering the sweetest voice you can manage, hoping to calm him down (before phainon gets his ass kicked again). “y-you must be exhausted after all that training today… why don’t we head back and get some rest?” 

a warm hand brushes against your temple, fingers gently threading through your hair as they tuck it behind your ear. 

even though you were the one who threw yourself at mydei, you find yourself frozen, heart hammering at the unexpected tenderness in his touch. 

his gaze is so unbearably soft.

after a moment, mydei exhales and nods before leading you away.

you steal a glance back at phainon—who only winks and flashes you a thumbs-up.

(mydei lets out a quiet sigh of relief, watching as you do everything in your power to avoid meeting his eyes. if he had stayed any longer and if phainon had caught sight of the faint flush dusting his cheeks —he’d never hear the end of it.)

ACT V: HOW TO EARN HIS DEVOTION

the sun hangs high above kremnos, casting a golden blaze over the arena as the city wakes to the sound of distant drums and the clang of steel. colorful banners bearing the insignias of noble houses flutter from towering spires, while anticipation clings thick to the air.

all of kremnos knows what day it is. the long-awaited gladiatorial tournament has finally arrived.

from the highest nobles draped in silk to the lowest commoners pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the stands, all eyes are drawn to the bloodstained sand at the heart of the arena. 

the rules are simple, brutal, unforgiving: fight until your opponent yields, or until they can no longer stand. and of course, there's no word for “mercy” in the kremnoan language… as mydei would say it.

the air in the holding chambers, hidden beneath the grand coliseum, is heavy with the scent of iron and sweat. you step inside with your small offering in hand: the handkerchief you embroidered, each stitch woven with thoughts of him.

and today, you see you’re not alone. the corridor is packed with people, mostly noblewomen, some nervous sweethearts, all fluttering around their chosen champions, many bearing the same tradition in their palms.

you catch sight of more than a few stretching their handkerchiefs out to mydei, vying for even a small glance. a small crowd trails him like petals in a storm, calling his name with saccharine lilts, each desperate to be noticed.

with the way he’s being swarmed, you resign yourself with a small sigh, clutching your own handkerchief, fingers curling gently around the cloth you spent the last few evenings stitching. 

nevermind. maybe you’ll give it to phainon instead. he always appreciates the gesture, and at the very least, you’d get a smile out of him.

so your eyes scan the crowd instead, searching for—

only to freeze when you look up and see someone else already standing in front of you.

without a word, your husband takes the handkerchief from your hand, presses it to his brow, and dabs away the sweat collecting at his temple; then folds it neatly and tucks it into his belt where everyone can see.

you blink, momentarily startled.

warmth spills into your chest, it’s strange. he never accepts handkerchiefs from anyone. not a single soul has ever earned that privilege. but today, in front of all these people, he’s taken yours without a second thought.

it’s a light gesture, but it says enough coming from the kremnoan prince. 

and if he’s going to make such a bold move, you might as well tease him a little.

you tilt your head, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. “that’s sir phainon’s, you know.”

he stills for a moment, a flash of annoyance crossing his face before he furrows his brows in an almost adorable pout. 

“then he’ll just have to go without,” he mutters.

you’ve never seen him look quite like this before —caught off guard and... flustered?

“... and i wanted one today.”

“well, since you’ve gone through all that trouble,” you say with a grin, “i suppose i’ll let you keep it.”

as you study him, a thought crosses your mind. you raise an eyebrow, “are you nervous about the tournament?”

his eyes flick to yours, “there is no word for ‘fear’ in the kremnoan language,” he replies, his voice low and confident. 

it’s the kind of thing only mydeimos would say. and yet, something about the resolve in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

you manage a soft smile. “then bring back the victor’s crown for me, will you?”

honestly it's more of a vow than a request, you’d be content just seeing him return in one piece. but he takes it seriously anyway. 

“if it’s for you,”

his expression softens for just a moment, and without missing a beat, he nods, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“i’d do anything.”

ACT VI: HOW TO BE VICTORIOUS

from your seat among the nobles, your gaze searches for him. the threads of your dress pinched between trembling fingers, creased from how often you’ve clutched it. 

ever since you’ve come to kremnos, you’ve grown used to the sound of battle, but today every strike echoes a little louder in your ears. 

your heart clenches every time mydei stumbles or blood splashes across the sand. even knowing how strong he is, how capable, there’s a twist of worry that doesn’t loosen its grip. 

the kind you only feel when the person you care about is the one walking straight into danger.

you’d heard stories of what the tournament demands, but seeing it for yourself… it’s surreal. 

the crowd cheers for violence.

warriors enter the arena one by one, facing off not only against each other, but against beasts dragged from the darkest corners of the empire —corrupted titankins, two-headed hounds, massive golems wreathed in flame; just to name a few.

and each time, the gates crash open with a deafening clang, releasing something more vicious than the last. still, he doesn’t falter. when a snarling beast lunges for his throat, he drives his sword deep into its ribs without a second thought. 

the nobles cheer and holler around you, drunk on spectacle. but your eyes don’t leave him, not for a moment.

because while the crowd may be here for blood, all you want… 

is to be the first thing mydei sees when it’s over.

the last of the other competitors lie in heaps of blood and sand, either devoured by the beasts or incapacitated by the prince. there’s no one left to challenge him except the creature before him.

the towering beast staggers toward him; your pulse spikes, hands gripping the edge of your seat as you hold your breath. every step it takes sends tremors through the arena floor, snarls echoing off stone as it bears down on him with a murderous roar.

the beast lunges, jaws snapping wide, but mydei meets it with unyielding resolve. his sword arcs through the air, a flash of silver against the blood-soaked dusk. the beast jerks, a guttural screech tearing from its throat as it rears back. 

for a heartbeat, you can't tell who’s fallen.

then, through the settling haze, you see mydei standing, blood splattered across his armor, chest heaving with exertion. the beast lets out a final screech —and then crumples to the sand in a thunderous collapse.

for a heartbeat, there’s silence. and then the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer.

“mydei!” you cry out, your heart racing as you push through the sea of people to get closer.

he lifts his gaze, and it’s you he finds.

the victor’s crown, gleaming beneath the sun, is placed into his hands. and he raises it high above his head for all to see. 

a roar erupts from the coliseum, the crowd surging to its feet as the name mydeimos echoes from every corner, chanted with unrelenting fervor.

and without hesitation, he strides toward you, his face softening as he approaches.

in a flash, he wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. he spins you in a wide, sweeping circle before drawing you close. his eyes locking with yours, a triumphant grin playing on his lips. 

with a tenderness that belies his warrior's demeanor, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"yours," mydei whispers. he lifts the victor’s crown in both hands, and with all the devotion of a man offering his heart, places it gently atop your head.

you reach up to his bloodied face, your hand trembling slightly as the warmth of his skin seeps into your fingers. your palm comes to rest against his cheek.

“you came back to me,” you murmur.

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment —like he’s been waiting for this, aching for it.

“i always will.”

you rise onto your toes, closing the distance between you.

at the end of the day, all mydei seeks is not victory or glory, but the soft sound of his name on the lips of his beloved, wrapped in an embrace that makes him forget the harshness of the battlefield.

EPILOGUE: HOW TO WIN HIM OVER

the question that once haunted your thoughts —how could i ever win his heart? —feels like a distant memory now, an answer long since found.

mydei looks at you with a softness in his eyes that you’ve come to know as a rare gift. his hand, calloused from battles fought and won, reaches for yours, his fingers brushing against yours before entwining it. 

“by the way, i’m actually… immortal. my injuries heal up after a while.”

you blink at him in confusion, and he chuckles softly, the sound warm and fond.

“wait, then that time when you—” you pause, recalling the night you carefully wrapped up his injury.

he grins, a small, playful glint in his eyes. ”i just like the way you worry over me.”

the admission leaves a flutter in your chest as his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand. 

you huff, pretending to be upset, though your heart races at the softness in his words. “you mean to say all that time i was worried sick over you for nothing?”

he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “it wasn’t for no reason,” he says, clearly trying not to smile. “i liked it. still do.”

you narrow your eyes, lips tugging into a pout. “well, you could’ve told me sooner! now i feel ridiculous.”

with a soft chuckle, mydei’s fingers brush through your hair in a gentle, almost apologetic gesture. he ruffles it lightly, his touch surprisingly tender. “you’re adorable when you’re upset,” he murmurs, his voice holding a sweetness that makes your heart skip a beat.

you can’t help but soften, the playful anger fading as his hand lingers for a moment longer. he pulls you a little closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. “don’t be mad. i’ll let you fuss over me for as long as you want, as long as you’re by my side.”

“you better mean that! i’m holding you to it.”

he hums, the sound low and content as he presses a kiss to your temple. “i do,” he whispers. “if there’s one thing i’ll always be sure of, it’s you.”

you think back to every hesitation, every guarded glance, the walls he built high around his heart. and now, that same heart rests in your hands. 

“looks like i managed to win you over after all,” you tease softly.

the way he looks at you says more than words ever could —as if you’re the only war he’s ever been glad to lose.

his fingers stay curled around yours; his heart laid bare with the quiet, breathtaking certainty that he is yours, as much as you are his.

"i love you, [name]."

and if this is victory, it’s the sweetest one yet.

thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated <3

MASTERLIST

[m1ckeyb3rry]

fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. spread the self-love!

thank you for tagging me @suguwu sorry this took me a sec to get to!! i have been cooking it up in my mind though !! hehe

Threefold | Honkai Star Rail — Mydei

When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

notes: this is my most recent project ergo i am the happiest with it atm HAHA i think my prose is at its strongest here!! honestly the idea for the plot really came to me in a vision…the image of mydeimos as the reluctant prisoner appeared so clearly to me that i had no choice but to build entire world to make it a reality!! (although in terms of world building i have done the bare minimum i feel LMAO very fast and loose fs) even though i haven’t met him in-game yet hehe he’s just very handsome yk haunts my waking hours and whatnot

Seabird | Blue Lock — Sae Itoshi

Thanks to a chance encounter on the beach, you spend your vacation trying to apologize to the famous soccer player you inadvertently offended. Unfortunately, Sae Itoshi has other plans.

notes: i feel like i would be remiss if i didn’t mention seabird!! this one was so much fun to write if only because reader and sae had the funniest dynamic i think i’ve ever written. they are so hater4hater and all of their conversations (plus the little brother’s snarky asides) had me giggling as i came up with them. i think in terms of prose it’s definitely a lot more functional compared to like threefold but that kind of lends it that silliness and charm?? so i still love it HAHA

Hierophant | Honkai Star Rail — Sunday

Sunday is your mirror, as you are his — or, how meeting him spells your doom, just like losing you spells his.

notes: did i know anything about sunday when i wrote this?? debatable (it was a birthday gift). forget about robin LMAOO this is definitely THE most ooc oak siblings you will ever see but i enjoyed it making it regardless!! it’s a 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓭𝓪𝔂 fic more than anything and very speculative/open to interpretation in its entirety which is what i was hoping to get across hehe like i have my ideas for what i think happened but truly it’s not clear at all and it was fun withholding everything LFKDJD if that makes sense…coming up with the differences between halovians and humans as well as writing sunday’s slow deterioration and eventual breakdown was very fun for me!! i also loved switching between past tense and present tense for the different povs hehe it was a fun exercise writing-wise as well!!

The Instrument | Blue Lock — Michael Kaiser

Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

notes: yes my opp michael kaiser is making an appearance here because unfortunately i actually do really love this piece LMAO i am not as much a fan of the part two because i only wrote it upon popular demand (i prefer leaving things open-ended) but part one i do by and large enjoy!! this was my first time ever writing in the present tense and i loveddd it HAHA it really unlocks a different style and vibe of writing for me so although i don’t always use it i def do like pulling it out every now and again which i wouldn’t have learned i can do without the instrument!!

Polar | Blue Lock — Nagi-Centric Genfic

This time, when Seishiro Nagi’s talent at soccer is discovered, it’s by a boy named Oliver Aiku — which goes about as well as you’d expect it to.

notes: this one is definitely a crazy one to put on here given that this is a genfic and i am a reader insert author but. i LOVE polar LMAOAOAO it was born of a silly conversation i had with one of my friends (jei if you’re seeing this hi) but it ended up being over 20k words of nagi character study in an au where he’s found by oliver instead of reo!! i love writing it hehe i think this is the proof nagi is my fav because like writing a genfic from a character’s pov is smth i’ve never done before and probs never will do again. but it was a blast at the time!!

no-pressure tagging: @luvether @loverducky @mewnbuns @kazucee @veraties (if any of you were tagged already i am sorry 🥹 i tried switching up who i tag too so i hope you all are okay with it please lmk if not so ik for next time 💖)

[luvether]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. Spread the self-love!

thank you for tagging me !! no need to apologize i love getting tagged in these kinds of things ^^ go check mira’s answer to this, in love w her writing and if i could tag you as one of my fave writers i would ❤︎

a guardian or two & much love, your guardians ノ moze and jiaoqiu

extra note! the whole guardian two-part series made me become severely attached to those two + feixiao. i enjoy writing the yaoqing trio in this one! their dynamic between one another and the fact that these two fics in particular are heavy on the found family & platonic love tropes speak so much volumes. they would 100% know what it feels like to love someone unconditionally and will do anything to achieve that <33 actually sobbed while writing this, they’re very noah kahan coded.

his anatomy ノsunday

extra note! i enjoyed writing the concept of this fic <- have connections to icarus syndrome. but i looked at a fictional anatomy of angel wings and decided ‘hey, why not write something where halovians would grow multiple wings?’ and the fact that it’s actually a tedious puberty process thing where they feel pain, get sweats from it. actually really liked that concept and a lot of people do too! this was one of my fave fics to read too because the pacing is really good (i want whatever i had when i wrote this)

star-shaped bruises ノ anaxa

extra note! my recent and first naxa fic and genuinely had so much fun writing + characterizing him. writing the dialogues and banters were my favorite, as well as the entirety of cerces’ character for this one >< i researched a few concepts of alchemy, something that i knew anaxa would yap about haha, also referenced a popular yearning line in the end (spoiler it’s something from pride & prejudice)

icarus syndrome ノ sunday

extra note! okay, this is a guilty one for me because this is my favorite concept but it’s barely written yet TT give me a little more time eueu but i already have an outline for this + the scenarios in my head and i absolutely adore this fic. i was inspired by ballads and song bird and snakes + song of achilles + blinded by the setting sun. always thought of writing about sunday but it’s him going through guilt, pressure and yearning. loved writing / coming up with the title as well!

tagging — @milksnake-tea @earthtooz @iceunhie @theother-victoria @mikashisus (no pressure tags, lmk if you don’t want to be tagged next time ^^)

[bottledpeaches]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. Spread the self-love!

omg ty for the tag kou pookie! DONT APOLOGIZE FOR THE TAG!!!!! and dont mind if I do hehehe >:)

hello, sailor!- aventurine

all aboard the lady luck and set sail for a new adventure! life on land doesn't satisfy you, so why not take to the seas instead? while working under captain aventurine as the primary nurse onboard, everything you've ever wanted is within your grasp, and yet the mystery surrounding your captain is still there, just short of being solved. just what kind of secrets lie hidden beneath that charming smile and silver tongue?

notes: this singlehandedly rekindled my aventurine obsession and I loved writing it as much as you guys enjoyed devouring it (ty for the once in a lifetime reblog kou pookie I still dream of it sometimes). one of the longest fics I've ever written but it certainly didn't feel like two months because of how much fun I had writing it. this was also a good exercise in juggling multiple main characters at once and I loved it but maybe that's my bias for the ip3 showing LMAO. I have also received some interest for a continuation so if the pirate aventurine bugs ever bite again...

all stars must die one day- alhaitham

it’s always been him- stupidly perfect and handsome Alhaitham who you saw as the bane of your academic achievements. Three years later and now so much has changed. He misses you. He misses your endless bickering and meaningless fights. Why did you change so much? It’s a mystery he makes up his mind to resolve.

notes: oh where do I begin with you... to this day it's still my most popular fic by note count. for being over two years old it's aged quite well. I had people pouring their hearts out to me in the comments section and my inbox and it brings me such great joy to know that my writing can have such an impact on people's lives to the point where they feel moved to leave some nice words behind. i hold this trilogy very dear to my heart <3

all hearts as one beneath the sun- aventurine

before kakavasha dissolves into the nihility, there is one hope he has to let go of. may you meet again in a kinder world and under a warm sun.

notes: ouuuufgggngngnnggnhhwhsndfnnahdsjlkfk........ vividly remember making myself cry with this one. this was one part exploration into memory and grief and how the two work together but also one part missing 2.1 aventurine LMAO. I came up with the idea for this after listening to had I not seen the sun one too many times miss robin the power ur songs hold over me should be studied...

love is concocted from esters and ketones ch. 02- robin

you’ve been commissioned to make a perfume that tells the life story of the universe’s most beloved idol. don’t let her down now.

notes: chat I will admit... I got a little carried away with this one... can't help it that I love robin and perfume and when you combine the two together? death sentence for me. immediately. but all jokes aside, this was a lovely dive into the first penacony character I fell in love with and her backstory, which while touched upon in the main storyline, was done so in relation to sunday's. I wanted to see my pretty angel singing queen have the spotlight she deserves and perhaps crash out bc she needs it

an eye for an eye- dr ratio

what happens when you stick your nose where it doesn't belong?

notes: I LOVE ME SOME GOOD MURDER MYSTERY!!!!! I rmbr thugging this out for the server halloween event and just BARELY making it in time. aside from that I had SO much fun writing this piece! it was a true test of my descriptive writing abilities and I think I did a good job nailing the 70s small mountain town vibes I was going for :D loved seeing people's reactions to the twist at the end too

tagging @tragedy-of-commons, @rainswept, @vxnuslogy, @aritsukemo, and @your-sleeparalysisdem0n (no pressure tags, lmk if you don't want to be tagged in the future)

[vxnuslogy]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. Spread the self-love!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THANKS FOR THE TAG VICTORIA!!!

a reason ノ aventurine

in which aventurine wanted a reason to stay, so he finds it in the form of you

extra! can't go a day without at least thinking about my first ever hyv fic on this account and how aventurine opened a literal gateway for me. i was stuck in such a slump so writing this, i fully prepared myself to be disappointed because i felt like i had lost my spark. but to my surprise, it went well!! this is also a favorite of mine because it garnered crow's attention LOL crow if you see this i love you and happy birthday again <33

the angel who lived ノsunday

death comes to everyone, sunday wonders if death will ever come to him

extra! first ever long fic for the boy and god did i love planning this one. just the concept of death being a waiting room for those who passed, sunday growing to accept it, and having it all slip through his fingers by the end mmmm how i love angst. this was also my first time trying to study a character in depth and i dont think that good of a job unfortunately TT

to you, who finally saw the sun ノsunday

to you, who finally saw the sun, i bid you one final farewell.

extra! the conclusion to my mini series of stellaronhunter!sunday. god i loved this one so much because i managed to slip references from previous fics in the series in it. the colored texts representing each fic, the final goodbye, and the kiss *chef's kiss* do i think it's perfect? no, absolutely not. but it doesn't take away how much i adored writing this <3

no matter how long it's been you're mine ノmydei

every man that has walked on the paths of okhema knew of the tragic fate that weighed of mydei's shoulders. but very few knew the full prophecy the titans have actually weaved.

extra! fairly recent fic but the epic musical brainrot was too strong i had to make two related fics about mydei. reincarnation, forbidden lovers and soulmates??? what more can i say?

love's thesis ノalhaitham

in which alhaitham finds out his fake lover is actually his soulmate so he decides to use it as his thesis topic.

extra! my second (?) longest fic and it had to be alhaitham. i live for yearner alhaitham with the soulmates tropes. it's such a popular trope where character a uses their feelings for character b as their research topic with him in particular and i had to get in on the magic too. i have to admit, it did take a while to write this with all the editing and stuff, but it was so worth it in the end.

my entire kinich section

extra! now, i can never beat the down bad allegations because i absolutely adore everything i wrote about him. whether it be canon-compliant or modern au, kinich has a very special place in my heart. i don't play genshin anymore but boy, do i find myself missing him.

open tags!!!!

[vxnuslogy]

the talk about tumblr shutting down is a bit scary since i've been on this platform for almost 3 years now TT but just in case, if we're mutuals please don't be afraid to ask for my discord so we can stay in touch !!!

[vxnuslogy]

━━━━━━ truth, dare, spin bottle.  ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

☆    |     or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campus⠀    …

꒰ including ꒱ ⠀! ⠀phainon, anaxagora & mydei.          ୨୧          ꒰ warnings ꒱ ⠀! ⠀modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.

“      tags     ⟡     .    @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somjuie @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please don't be afraid to send in ask or fill out the forms on my pinned!

✶ : PHAINON 

 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball team—you'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when he’s on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. it’s a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no one’s surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by him—he reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.

you don’t deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think he’s cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. he’s rather tall for his age–just a year below you but he’s far surpassed your height–and he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you don’t mean it in a bad way. 

after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainon’s matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream “you’re here for phainon right?” and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.

“oh god, are you alright?!” 

someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and you’re forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.

“i’m so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasn’t paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packs—”

“will you calm down? you’re making my headache worse!” you don’t mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery person’s concern, but god does he talk too much.

“right… right! sorry.”

you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize who’s in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.

“i… need to go. sorry.” you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you don’t pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.

that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didn’t necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.

he sent a lot of messages—broken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.

you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a storm—a never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise it’s because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: “would you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? it’ll be my treat ofc!!!!”

✶ : ANAXA (GORAS)

you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.

you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didn’t need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.

anaxa won’t admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you don’t show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. he’d rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyone—your banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his junior–the school athlete–and how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasn’t that your thing with him?

 

“pray tell,” you flinch at the voice–failing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. “why is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?”

if you were any other student, you’d think he sounds jealous—but that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? you’re very sure the only emotion he’s ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that you’ve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of you—a tiny, tiny part—does feel a bit guilty. you weren’t one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).

“look if this is about the test scores, i’m…”

you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and there–avoiding yours at all cost–and posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.

“i… apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions weren’t to bring you down. i just…” he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. “wanted you to continue competing with me.”

by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cup—medium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic “it’s a sorry gift.” he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.

the two of you separate on the second floor of campus—phainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you don’t realize that you’re now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, you’d see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.

when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. ‘sorry for avoiding you! no matter what, you’re still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?’ anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.

✶ : MYDEIMOS

if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird that’s always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those things—you see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.

to say it’s a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatement—you were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyone’s time that you can’t find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.

you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.

“what about my notes?”

you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air. 

“uh… well, you see…” you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!

you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your arm—a nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you don’t miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.

“if you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. it’s not like i’m going to bite your head off.” his voice is stern but if you listen closely, you’ll realize there’s an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.

“thank you so much, mydei!” you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“go share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.”

mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, “what is it?”

you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, “thank you, really! you don’t understand how much everyone needs these right now.”

he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.

when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his head—she questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.

he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesn’t miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didn’t have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run out—he just wants to show off the item with your name on it.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[vxnuslogy]

━━━━━━ truth, dare, spin bottle.  ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

☆    |     or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campus⠀    …

꒰ including ꒱ ⠀! ⠀phainon, anaxagora & mydei.          ୨୧          ꒰ warnings ꒱ ⠀! ⠀modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.

“      tags     ⟡     .    @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somjuie @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please don't be afraid to send in ask or fill out the forms on my pinned!

✶ : PHAINON 

 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball team—you'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when he’s on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. it’s a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no one’s surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by him—he reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.

you don’t deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think he’s cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. he’s rather tall for his age–just a year below you but he’s far surpassed your height–and he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you don’t mean it in a bad way. 

after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainon’s matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream “you’re here for phainon right?” and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.

“oh god, are you alright?!” 

someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and you’re forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.

“i’m so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasn’t paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packs—”

“will you calm down? you’re making my headache worse!” you don’t mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery person’s concern, but god does he talk too much.

“right… right! sorry.”

you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize who’s in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.

“i… need to go. sorry.” you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you don’t pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.

that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didn’t necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.

he sent a lot of messages—broken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.

you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a storm—a never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise it’s because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: “would you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? it’ll be my treat ofc!!!!”

✶ : ANAXA (GORAS)

you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.

you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didn’t need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.

anaxa won’t admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you don’t show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. he’d rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyone—your banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his junior–the school athlete–and how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasn’t that your thing with him?

 

“pray tell,” you flinch at the voice–failing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. “why is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?”

if you were any other student, you’d think he sounds jealous—but that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? you’re very sure the only emotion he’s ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that you’ve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of you—a tiny, tiny part—does feel a bit guilty. you weren’t one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).

“look if this is about the test scores, i’m…”

you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and there–avoiding yours at all cost–and posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.

“i… apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions weren’t to bring you down. i just…” he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. “wanted you to continue competing with me.”

by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cup—medium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic “it’s a sorry gift.” he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.

the two of you separate on the second floor of campus—phainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you don’t realize that you’re now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, you’d see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.

when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. ‘sorry for avoiding you! no matter what, you’re still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?’ anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.

✶ : MYDEIMOS

if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird that’s always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those things—you see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.

to say it’s a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatement—you were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyone’s time that you can’t find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.

you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.

“what about my notes?”

you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air. 

“uh… well, you see…” you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!

you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your arm—a nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you don’t miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.

“if you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. it’s not like i’m going to bite your head off.” his voice is stern but if you listen closely, you’ll realize there’s an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.

“thank you so much, mydei!” you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“go share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.”

mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, “what is it?”

you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, “thank you, really! you don’t understand how much everyone needs these right now.”

he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.

when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his head—she questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.

he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesn’t miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didn’t have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run out—he just wants to show off the item with your name on it.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[vxnuslogy]

my pity for cantarella has been taken by fucking calcharo leave me ALONE

[vxnuslogy]

hi sweets i hope u’ve been having a decent week!! 🙇🏽‍♀️

MY POOKIE OHKA HIIII WAVES honestly this week has been fine and we managed to finish one major project for this year so YIPPIE!!! i hope you're having a decent week as well <333

[vxnuslogy]

━━━━━━ truth, dare, spin bottle.  ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

☆    |     or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campus⠀    …

꒰ including ꒱ ⠀! ⠀phainon, anaxagora & mydei.          ୨୧          ꒰ warnings ꒱ ⠀! ⠀modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.

“      tags     ⟡     .    @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somjuie @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please don't be afraid to send in ask or fill out the forms on my pinned!

✶ : PHAINON 

 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball team—you'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when he’s on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. it’s a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no one’s surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by him—he reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.

you don’t deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think he’s cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. he’s rather tall for his age–just a year below you but he’s far surpassed your height–and he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you don’t mean it in a bad way. 

after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainon’s matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream “you’re here for phainon right?” and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.

“oh god, are you alright?!” 

someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and you’re forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.

“i’m so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasn’t paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packs—”

“will you calm down? you’re making my headache worse!” you don’t mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery person’s concern, but god does he talk too much.

“right… right! sorry.”

you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize who’s in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.

“i… need to go. sorry.” you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you don’t pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.

that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didn’t necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.

he sent a lot of messages—broken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.

you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a storm—a never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise it’s because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: “would you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? it’ll be my treat ofc!!!!”

✶ : ANAXA (GORAS)

you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.

you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didn’t need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.

anaxa won’t admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you don’t show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. he’d rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyone—your banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his junior–the school athlete–and how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasn’t that your thing with him?

 

“pray tell,” you flinch at the voice–failing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. “why is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?”

if you were any other student, you’d think he sounds jealous—but that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? you’re very sure the only emotion he’s ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that you’ve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of you—a tiny, tiny part—does feel a bit guilty. you weren’t one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).

“look if this is about the test scores, i’m…”

you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and there–avoiding yours at all cost–and posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.

“i… apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions weren’t to bring you down. i just…” he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. “wanted you to continue competing with me.”

by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cup—medium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic “it’s a sorry gift.” he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.

the two of you separate on the second floor of campus—phainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you don’t realize that you’re now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, you’d see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.

when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. ‘sorry for avoiding you! no matter what, you’re still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?’ anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.

✶ : MYDEIMOS

if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird that’s always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those things—you see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.

to say it’s a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatement—you were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyone’s time that you can’t find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.

you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.

“what about my notes?”

you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air. 

“uh… well, you see…” you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!

you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your arm—a nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you don’t miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.

“if you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. it’s not like i’m going to bite your head off.” his voice is stern but if you listen closely, you’ll realize there’s an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.

“thank you so much, mydei!” you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“go share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.”

mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, “what is it?”

you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, “thank you, really! you don’t understand how much everyone needs these right now.”

he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.

when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his head—she questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.

he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesn’t miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didn’t have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run out—he just wants to show off the item with your name on it.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[vxnuslogy]

━━━━━━ truth, dare, spin bottle.  ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

☆    |     or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campus⠀    …

꒰ including ꒱ ⠀! ⠀phainon, anaxagora & mydei.          ୨୧          ꒰ warnings ꒱ ⠀! ⠀modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.

“      tags     ⟡     .    @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somjuie @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please don't be afraid to send in ask or fill out the forms on my pinned!

✶ : PHAINON 

 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball team—you'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when he’s on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. it’s a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no one’s surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by him—he reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.

you don’t deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think he’s cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. he’s rather tall for his age–just a year below you but he’s far surpassed your height–and he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you don’t mean it in a bad way. 

after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainon’s matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream “you’re here for phainon right?” and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.

“oh god, are you alright?!” 

someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and you’re forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.

“i’m so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasn’t paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packs—”

“will you calm down? you’re making my headache worse!” you don’t mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery person’s concern, but god does he talk too much.

“right… right! sorry.”

you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize who’s in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.

“i… need to go. sorry.” you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you don’t pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.

that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didn’t necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.

he sent a lot of messages—broken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.

you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a storm—a never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise it’s because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: “would you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? it’ll be my treat ofc!!!!”

✶ : ANAXA (GORAS)

you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.

you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didn’t need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.

anaxa won’t admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you don’t show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. he’d rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyone—your banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his junior–the school athlete–and how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasn’t that your thing with him?

 

“pray tell,” you flinch at the voice–failing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. “why is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?”

if you were any other student, you’d think he sounds jealous—but that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? you’re very sure the only emotion he’s ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that you’ve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of you—a tiny, tiny part—does feel a bit guilty. you weren’t one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).

“look if this is about the test scores, i’m…”

you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and there–avoiding yours at all cost–and posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.

“i… apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions weren’t to bring you down. i just…” he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. “wanted you to continue competing with me.”

by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cup—medium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic “it’s a sorry gift.” he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.

the two of you separate on the second floor of campus—phainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you don’t realize that you’re now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, you’d see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.

when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. ‘sorry for avoiding you! no matter what, you’re still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?’ anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.

✶ : MYDEIMOS

if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird that’s always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those things—you see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.

to say it’s a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatement—you were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyone’s time that you can’t find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.

you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.

“what about my notes?”

you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air. 

“uh… well, you see…” you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!

you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your arm—a nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you don’t miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.

“if you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. it’s not like i’m going to bite your head off.” his voice is stern but if you listen closely, you’ll realize there’s an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.

“thank you so much, mydei!” you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“go share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.”

mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, “what is it?”

you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, “thank you, really! you don’t understand how much everyone needs these right now.”

he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.

when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his head—she questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.

he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesn’t miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didn’t have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run out—he just wants to show off the item with your name on it.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[vxnuslogy]

━━━━━━ truth, dare, spin bottle.  ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

☆    |     or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campus⠀    …

꒰ including ꒱ ⠀! ⠀phainon, anaxagora & mydei.          ୨୧          ꒰ warnings ꒱ ⠀! ⠀modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.

“      tags     ⟡     .    @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somjuie @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please don't be afraid to send in ask or fill out the forms on my pinned!

✶ : PHAINON 

 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball team—you'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when he’s on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. it’s a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no one’s surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by him—he reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.

you don’t deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think he’s cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. he’s rather tall for his age–just a year below you but he’s far surpassed your height–and he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you don’t mean it in a bad way. 

after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainon’s matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream “you’re here for phainon right?” and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.

“oh god, are you alright?!” 

someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and you’re forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.

“i’m so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasn’t paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packs—”

“will you calm down? you’re making my headache worse!” you don’t mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery person’s concern, but god does he talk too much.

“right… right! sorry.”

you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize who’s in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.

“i… need to go. sorry.” you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you don’t pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.

that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didn’t necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.

he sent a lot of messages—broken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.

you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a storm—a never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise it’s because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: “would you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? it’ll be my treat ofc!!!!”

✶ : ANAXA (GORAS)

you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.

you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didn’t need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.

anaxa won’t admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you don’t show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. he’d rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyone—your banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his junior–the school athlete–and how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasn’t that your thing with him?

 

“pray tell,” you flinch at the voice–failing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. “why is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?”

if you were any other student, you’d think he sounds jealous—but that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? you’re very sure the only emotion he’s ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that you’ve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of you—a tiny, tiny part—does feel a bit guilty. you weren’t one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).

“look if this is about the test scores, i’m…”

you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and there–avoiding yours at all cost–and posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.

“i… apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions weren’t to bring you down. i just…” he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. “wanted you to continue competing with me.”

by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cup—medium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic “it’s a sorry gift.” he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.

the two of you separate on the second floor of campus—phainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you don’t realize that you’re now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, you’d see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.

when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. ‘sorry for avoiding you! no matter what, you’re still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?’ anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.

✶ : MYDEIMOS

if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird that’s always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those things—you see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.

to say it’s a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatement—you were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyone’s time that you can’t find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.

you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.

“what about my notes?”

you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air. 

“uh… well, you see…” you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!

you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your arm—a nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you don’t miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.

“if you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. it’s not like i’m going to bite your head off.” his voice is stern but if you listen closely, you’ll realize there’s an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.

“thank you so much, mydei!” you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“go share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.”

mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, “what is it?”

you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, “thank you, really! you don’t understand how much everyone needs these right now.”

he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.

when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his head—she questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.

he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesn’t miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didn’t have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run out—he just wants to show off the item with your name on it.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[vxnuslogy]

i hope u do a pt 2 of your hsr amphoreus boys hs au i love them sk much

HI ANON!! who knows maybe in the future i might do more but for now im unfortunately out of creative juice TT

[vxnuslogy]

thank me later

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=OH4FCB7rlGo

(it’s even better if you know the meaning to the song)

im gonna sob i just woke up to someone thing so pretty 😭😭 god ad the flowers?? they look like forget me nots brb im just gonna sleep on the highway

[vxnuslogy]

did i cook or was i cooked.