I Was Thinking....

you tell them hoshi

Lost and Found: Part I

(ASL Brothers x Sister!Reader)

Part one of my “Lost and Found” series! Thanks for waiting, everyone!!! 💚💚💚

—-

Luffy finds you, a small, raggedy, and dirtied girl, in the deepest parts of Mount Corvo. Occasionally brining you food in secret, his brothers, Ace and Sabo, eventually become suspicious of his actions. Luffy confesses that he’s been caring for you, and decides to introduce them to you.

After seeing your poor living conditions, Luffy manages to convince his brothers to bring you back. But you’re having a hard time adjusting to your new life and suddenly being surrounded by people. Luckily, your newfound “brothers” are supporting you... somewhat...

Cover Page

tighnari

[cn server content]

《Tears of Themis · 末定事件簿》

「情迷贝克伦」 PV

Morepesok, Snezhnaya.

“There was this… one time,” You begin out of nowhere, and Childe immediately turns to you, “In Mondstadt. The Traveler was there, and he was mixing drinks.”

“Mixing drinks?” He asks, amused.

You laugh, squeezing his hand tighter. Warmth spreads throughout your body. “Yeah. Apparently there was a bartender course and Aether decided to join. Naturally, I went to visit him to witness the great bartender skills of the Traveler.” You pause, “I remember one of the drinks there; it was called ‘A Snow-Covered Kiss.’ According to Paimon, it was supposed to taste like how a flower blooms in the snow and meets your lips. Or at least that’s what I heard from when she and Aether were talking to the Liyuean lady.”

The stunt that Childe pulls next is expected, given his nature. “I bet I can give you a sweeter snow-covered kiss than some drink,” He winks, using the hand intertwined with yours to pull you into him before diving down.

Childe does not disappoint; he never does. The kiss is frosty, chilly, and yet, it is warm. It feels like sitting at a fireplace and snuggling next to him and at the same time it feels like a little breeze full of snowflakes being blown lightly into your face. A comforting heat pools in your tummy and you subconsciously shift closer to him, and he gladly welcomes the movement but wrapping his arms around you tighter.

You barely manage to think about how all kisses with Childe should be like this: slow, loving, warm and cheeky when he pulls away. Your limbs remain tangled (you can’t tell if it’s for sharing of body heat or because your boyfriend just doesn’t like letting go of you) and when you look up, it is Ajax that smiles at you.

A snowflake coincidentally lands on your nose, and Ajax giggles as he helps wipe the melted ice aside. His gloved fingers remain on your face, gingerly caressing your cheeks. “You’re not very slick about your intentions,” he hums, gazing at the little distinctive features.

“Hm?”

“It’s not odd for you to tell me about your day, but you never say something as direct as that,” he teases you, “‘A Snow-Covered Kiss’, really? Surely you could do better than that. Or you could’ve just asked for one straight away.”

You should pull away from his embrace to teach him a lesson about teasing you— you really should. You don’t, and Ajax doesn’t cover the wide smile adorning his features.

“So,” Ajax begins, and he tilts his nose down to touch yours. Puffs of warm air exit from your mouths and intermingle, and you know that the redness forming on your nose definitely isn’t due to the cold. “Was my take on a snow-covered kiss better than the drink?”

“It’s hard to say,” you hum, still intoxicated by the intimacy of that kiss, “Could you do it again? Just for me to, y’know, get a clearer taste.”

The giddiness in Ajax’s eyes is clear, and he doesn’t waste a second diving back in. And when he resurfaces, you tell him again that it still doesn’t taste sweeter than the drink Aether made you. So he kisses you again. And you tell him again. And the cycle repeats again, and again, and again. And if he ever noticed your ploy to get him to kiss you with a sky full of snowflakes and lips full of love (he did), he never said it.

Though sweet snow-covered kisses you gave you tasted nothing like the drink, you sure could get drunk on the way he handed them to you.

-

@souglias happy birthday weird fatooey ginger that sher likes ☹️ kinda short but lol it's like 11.30pm anyway your fanart did you so much justice king pop off <333

Them: Why do you listen to music in a language you don’t even speak?

Me:

Me: wHy dO yoU liSteN tO mUsiC iN A laNguAGe yOU dOn’T eVen sPeaK?

phainon x gn!scholar reader, phainon is so in love and reader is oblivious

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

The moment Phainon’s eyes first met yours, there was a stutter in his heart, an indescribable feeling of reverence coupled with curiosity creeped into his being when he first met you.

Beautiful. That was the only word he knew at the time.

Your beauty was unparalleled, unmatched as you saunter into his view, mind not exactly present in the moment as your clothes swayed with your every hurried step. Your eyes were foggy, a testament to your dedication and work, evidenced by the tablet you held snug to your side.

He decides in that moment that he wants to know you, so he purposefully sets himself in your line of movement and waits for the moment when you bump into him, far too focused in a world that wasn’t the one you were presently in. Fate decided to be kind to him when you fall right into his schemes, allowing him to catch you with an arm secured around your waist, your tablet falling to the stone pavement with a dull smack.

“Oh my!” you exclaim. “My utmost apologies, I was not aware of where I was going-”

He smiles, for the last thing he was thinking of was your apology. Even your voice is beautiful, the words flowing into his ears like warm ichor.

“It’s alright,” he reassures with that smile of his, almost faltering when his heart skips another beat the moment your eyes flit to look at his. Phainon thinks he’s going to collapse to his knees if you glance away. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me your name.”

Unaware of his flirtatious intentions, you sound out the syllables of your name and he repeats it with much wonder. “What a lovely name. I’m Phainon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

It’s been two years since he first met you, and you are still just as enchanting.

He learns you are a widely renowned scholar and author, which explains the tablet you held that day. Of course, you were shocked the moment he uttered his name, for the titles of the Chrysos Heirs were well known, essentially common knowledge for those that flourished in the world of academia. Phainon still cherishes the memory of your expression, keeping it in the back of his mind and musing over it in private.

If you had known he was holding that over you, you would have thrown a slew of unpretty words at him with that pretty voice of yours, and he would have cherished them the same way he does with all of your works.

Whenever Phainon hears that your most recent novel has been released, he is one of the first to scour for it, reading it from start to finish within days. Even your publications from years before have a place on his shelves, there is no book of yours that he has not purchased and proceeded to read from front to back.

He insists on meeting you whenever he can, and while you answer a question he asked, he’s trying to keep his marvelling to a minimum, trying to keep these feelings from spilling all over you as he lets you know that his undivided attention is on you.

You’re skeptical of him. You wonder why he seeks your companionship specifically, what about you entertained him enough to invite you on market walks, buy your favourite drink from your favourite stall, and then sit on a marble bench in a quiet park underneath falling leaves.

As you’re busy pondering, he jolts whenever your thigh brushes against his.

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

His favourite time to admire you is when you’re deep in thought and unaware of the world around you, too focused on the wax tablet that sits on your desk.

Despite the practicality of papers, you tell him you like the sensation of writing on wax, how your pen glides along, all of your bursts of inspiration occur like this, so they hold a dear place in your heart. Soft chatter is exchanged, he tells you about his day, you share some idle musings about yours, then you let him know of the most recent developments of your work before he lets you write in peace.

Phainon tries not to stare too much, knows it’s unbecoming to do so, but he can’t help letting his eyes linger on you as your hand scrawls, occasionally taking a break here and there but never letting the train of thought end without it being recorded.

He could watch forever. He could be here forever, sitting in a comfortable chaise in the corner of your study, rendering himself invisible in your periphery as he just gets to exist with you.

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

It’s not widely known, perhaps less than a handful of people know, and it’s not because he has confessed it to them outright, but because they have caught on to the subtleties.

The company he surrounds himself with knows well enough about the scholar that has caught his heart, and how he refuses to run away. They give him teasing looks now and then whenever the prospect of romance and love is raised, and glance specifically at the light-haired when your name is mentioned in passing, not wanting to miss the softening of his bright gaze.

It’s even more entertaining because you are not aware of it.

You are not aware of Phainon’s awestruck eyes whenever he looks at you, how he leans closer whenever you speak, desperate to close the gap however he can. You are not aware of how he speaks your name so gently, as if wanting the wind to take the words away and to you so that no one else may hear. You are not aware of the little world Phainon lives in where it’s just you and him, existing together.

The rest of the Chrysos Heir hound after him relentlessly when they first discovered of your ignorance to his feelings, and now they make it their life mission to make fun of him for it, especially before you.

Phainon does not mind, well- tries not to, because he is in love.

As infuriating it is that you haven’t caught on, despite your immense intelligence, he waits patiently for the day you will.

Even though he yearns to declare it from the highest point of Amphoreus, that his very being has been seized by you, he is content with the quiet moments you share now, and he will happily take all that you give him, even if he wants more.

Phainon is in love.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

dear, chapter one ♡

— series masterlist ♡ art

what have you done to me? cyno wonders, tearing his eyes away from your figure. it's tough, he thinks. it's tough looking at his worksheet when you're right there.

ah, wait—there he goes again, thinking of you in ways that friends shouldn't. you've always been right there, next to him, so how is it different now?

your arm brushes with his and cyno's heart nearly hurls from his throat.

wait, what?

blinking furiously, the boy begins to rub his temples out of spite. no way, he broods, no way. no way the brush of your arm got his heart soaring and no way—no way you...

nevermind.

"cyno," you say, and the boy nearly chokes on his own spit as his hands fly from his temples to the table, attention owed fully to you, because archons, you've always had it.

damn you, [name], is all cyno thinks.

"what?" in an attempt to mask his emotions, the boy's voice comes out harsher than anticipated, but oh, you can hear it in the silence: the soft edge to his words and the way his tone quiets a little as he speaks to you. look at him, look at him, dammit—look at him and see the way his vermilion eyes melt into pools of roses, dripping petals trickling with affection but archons, it can't be.

cyno doesn't have time to love, much less love you. you, who have been in his world but now own it. you, who have been his friend from elementary to high school, who have been his friend.

cyno doesn't love you; he never will.

"i need help." pouting, you point bluntly at the easiest math equation cyno has ever seen in his life, but still, he gives in.

he gives in because you're his friend, and not because the way your eyes droop a little makes his heart weep; not because he relishes in your attention and the way your eyes (oh, those lovely eyes) meet his fully because no one, no one, would dare to look at the cyno in the eyes.

no one but you.

"well," cyno pauses to examine your work, "some things just aren't adding up."

the boy resists a smirk once you glare at him, because archon, the way your lips curl into a feigned frown and your eyebrows narrow a little is simply so...

he shakes his head.

"you need to stop making jokes like that," you say, and his heart nearly stops. "i'm a fragile flower, you're treating me so rudely!"

he snorts, heart regaining its tempo from the false alarm because oh, oh, cyno would never dare to anger you—not when the possibility of the feigned pout on your face becoming real hurts him more than he'd like to admit.

"you're more like a weed," he comments dryly.

"i'm able to withstand even the harshest of conditions."

"and are a pain to remove." shrugging, cyno has to turn away from your prying gaze in order to calm the fervency of his heart because oh, there you go again, giving him that glare and all your attention—it's all his, dammit.

"here's my notebook, i have the examples written down," he says before handing you the papers. he can't take it anymore—he can't take the rage of his heart and the way it cries, it cries a pitiful tune, it cries your favorite tune and weeps whenever you don't notice.

you've hexed him, you've cast a spell on him and cyno—the top of the entire graduating class—has been reduced to a fool. but this isn't normal, he thinks, because we're friends. best friends, even.

do best friends click their tongue when your gaze leaves him? do best friends bite their inner cheek in envy as your attention now belongs to his notes instead of him?

cyno looks at you—the you whose attention belongs to something else, as per usual. cyno knows the direction of your gaze and knows when it's on him, he knows when you stare at someone or something else, he knows and knows, and archon, does it hurt.

oh, is it too presumptuous of him to wish for your attention solely to himself? is it too ambitious, to outlandish for him to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could be the subject of your gaze, too?

"[name]," he says. he says your name, he says it just to say it. he says your name as practice for the future because even if the world were ending tomorrow, it would be the first thing he'd think of. cyno says your name, albeit quietly, because he would never dare to soil its owner.

"what?" you respond, not looking up. cyno taps your elbow.

then, you glance up at him.

and then, his thumb swipes against his chest. archon, he thinks, it's crazy. his heart is threatening to spill from his mouth and decorate you in the adorations he's kept to himself—his ribs are threatening to implode because oh, he's yours, he's yours, dammit, so do what you want.

"nothing."

you roll your eyes, and cyno sheds a barely noticeable smile.

you've ruined him—you've broken him down and built a palace of you. cyno doesn't know when or how, but the way you return to his notes only makes him wonder: when will i capture their attention fully?

when will you realize the muse you've created? when will you realize that you've painted the "canvas of cyno" a myriad of your favorite colors, your favorite shows, your favorite things?

and then, his heart stops.

oh, archon. he flicks his forearm. what am i thinking?

you're his friend; nothing more.

→ next chapter, interlude: what you've done to me

tagging: @xdncrkay @valeriesteashop @rainygreyclouduwu @shrhnrqz @poggerschampion69 @sketcheeee @emmaemoseila @lynnforever @kuuremon @1eaf-me-alone @cryingpariah @monaypo1 @hamdehlesmis @suuichi875432

(bold means i cannot tag u!!)

(190929) han, maze of memories

1.37 a.m.

"darling, you're as pretty as ever," a suave voice whispers into your ear, warm breath hot against your skin. eyes widening, you dart your head to face the sound and are met with the cool blue eyes of the one and only kamisato ayato. "ayato! what are you doing?" you scramble to the other side of the bench in surprise, though you regret it a moment later when his expression is marred with exaggerated sadness.

"it was too crowded inside, so i came out for some fresh air," he grins, sadness wiped away in an instant, "but then i got distracted by the stars!" you follow the movement of his shaky index finger to gaze up at the night sky, admiring the infinite stars scattered like glitter across the blanket of the galaxy. but suddenly, ayato's hand moves to point at you as he blinks, "by that, of course i mean the ones in your eyes!" your face heats up at the compliment as you mumble a thanks; it's already such high praise to compare your irises to the beauty of the universe, but when it's coming from the yashiro commissioner that you've fallen in love with, you swear your heart is about to stop right there.

but then you realise something, "wait, wait, wait, rewind. did you just wink at me with both eyes? although i suppose thats considered blinking..." "no, i winked normally! as any proper gentleman would in the company of the one he adores," he sighs as if explaining to a child, "see, i'll do it again." you watch him intently, and he shuts both eyes tightly before opening them again. "ayato, you're really just blinking," you shake your head, and he frowns before blinking again repeatedly to the point where it looks like he's trying to communicate in morse code. at this point you can't help but burst into laughter at his antics; seeing him so relaxed is a stark contrast from his usual aloof personality.

then ayato flops onto you, head landing in your lap as he wriggles around to make himself comfortable – he really is childish. "and what are you doing now, pray tell?" you look down at him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "well, i'm glad that i got to make you laugh, so i'm going to sleep now," he beams at you, and you have to fight the urge to trace your finger along his cheek. finally, he closes his eyes before you cave and a slow exhale escapes your throat – you aren't sure if it's one of relief or disappointment.

your hand subconsciously travels to thread through his aqua hair, trailing through the incredibly soft strands as you permit yourself to dream about how this could be your life if you were ever able to wed him. but sadly, you know it will never happen. your families have a feud between them spanning centuries, and it doesn't look like the hatchet will be buried anytime soon. that knowledge is what makes these twilight trysts even more painful, as you and ayato always sneak out of the grand functions you can't be bothered to attend and end up next to one another. but no matter how friendly the alcohol makes him act, you know he'll be back to being the cold head of the kamisato clan tomorrow, a world you have no chance of stepping foot into.

but suddenly, ayato's eyes flutter open slightly, and he lifts one hand to place it on yours, intertwining your fingers as he smiles softly at you. "go back to sleep, ayato," you whisper, unsure if you're able to speak louder without your voice cracking and betraying your true emotions. "someday..." he murmurs, eyes sliding shut once more as sleep overtakes him, "i'll marry you, y/n."

"what?! hey, what?!" you shake his shoulder gently, "ayato, wake up! did you mean that?" the head of the shuumatsuban doesn't stir, but his mouth remain fixed in a mischievous smile that doesn't leave even as he fades into dreamland. "you really know how to pick when to fall asleep, huh?" you groan, but you can't stop the matching smile springing to your lips as well. if drunken words truly are sober thoughts, then perhaps the secret dream you nurse in the hidden depths of your heart will become reality soon enough.

it all depends on the rascal sleeping peacefully in your lap right now; kamisato ayato.

for @hamayumis !! rebiiii i love u so much this is for u !!!!! i rlly hope u like it <333

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