synopsis: they say poetry and letters were humanity's earliest means of expressing their thoughts. as such, will it be able to absolve the misunderstanding between you and lohen?
lohen x fem!reader, childhood friends to strangers to lovers. university au.
a/n: i wanted to make this series as a countdown to lohen's banner sooo yeah.
prologue: to the one who (probably) hates me.
-> from: tevyat university
"congratulations student, you have been assigned with: lohen. thank you for signing up with the pen pal project! happy writing!"
"...you have got to be fucking kidding me."
the name 'lohen' stares back at you from your phone. you double and triple check the email, refreshing to see if it would change at all. however, when the name remains unchanged even after five refreshes, the reality of the situation starts to sink in on you.
seven years. seven years since he left a sixteen-year-old you waiting in the fields in your hometown, seven years since you lost all form of contact with him, and three years since you've stopped seeing him in your dreams.
exactly two years since you ran into him on campus while exiting the library, and two years you've spent actively avoiding him.
and now, in your last year of university, the school system has decided to pair you up with him.
you deny it at first, thinking of it as some kind of scarily specific prank by some hacker who has a vengeance against you. but the email address is legit, the number pasted at the bottom is a real one and this is definitely an event you regret joining.
according to the website, you and your pen pal will be matched according to your answers given on the questionnaire provided when you first sign up. based on your personality, interests and hobbies, the perfect partner will be found for you. (the website's words, not yours.)
once you are matched, an email will be sent to each of you, containing the other person's name and phone number. then, over the course of one school year, you'll exchange letters and get to know each other better. obviously, the main goal of the project is for willing participants to make friends and connect with other students on campus.
by that logic, it meant the system believed you and lohen would get along with each other and were highly compatible.
the algorithm they're using must be outdated, you believe, if they put you with lohen of all people.
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lohen.
the name leaves a bittersweet taste on your tongue, reminding you of the childhood you once had with him until everything fell apart.
the both of you used to play in the fields behind his house when it was dark, catching fireflies and gazing at the stars. you'd stay there until dawn and then sneak back into your house through the window, with lohen waving you goodbye as he rushed back home as well.
a younger you would always look forward to when lohen knocked on the door, politely asking your parents for permission to play with you before throwing all decorum out of the way and dragging you out by the arm when they agreed. as he got older, he stopped asking and just waited by your bedroom window with his arms held out, telling you to jump down and he'd catch you.
"that boy is as unpredictable as can be." your mother would sigh. yet she never once forbade you from hanging out with him.
perhaps it was bound to happen, a given even with how much time you were spending with lohen, but you fell for him at the age of fourteen. from there, not only was he your best friend, lohen became your first love.
the fairytales you used to read as a child, where a knight would fall in love with a princess, suddenly meant so much more to you, your young, naive, foolish mind imagining that you were the princess and lohen was your knight.
you'd dream of a precious romance, one untainted by the struggles of reality and adulthood, one where you and lohen would skip off into the sunset together and live out a happily ever after together.
yes, it was childish for a girl your age back then, but it was your whole world. that's how much lohen meant to you. it's why you spent another two years pining after him before you finally decided to confess in the fields both of you so dearly loved.
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you waited.
you waited and waited and waited.
you waited until the sun set, until the sky turned dark and the stars made their appearance, until the fireflies came out.
you waited until your parents found you in the middle of those fields, crying your heart out.
lohen never came.
it wasn't until the next morning that you found out he had moved without telling you. no note, no words, nothing.
he just...left.
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*ding!*
2 messages from: unknown
unknown: hey
unknown: your my pen pal right?
great, as if you didn't have enough to worry about already.
you aren't lost on who this is. since they're claiming to be your pen pal, this is can only be lohen who's texting you.
you don't know why your heart is pounding so fast. you aren't the one who ditched someone and left without a word seven years ago. if anything, he should be the one who's nervous.
you: lohen.
unknown is typing...
unknown: straight to the point huh? i like it.
unknown: its been a while (name)
you scoff. he's acting like only a year has passed and not seven.
you: more than a while you mean
you: ykw i dont have to do this im blocking you
you: bye
your thumb hovers over the 'block' button when another influx of messages comes in.
unknown: wiat
unknown: u want an answer i know
unknown: meet me outside main hall
unknown: youll get one
the green dot beside the empty profile disappears. lohen's gone offline.
you're not going. you're blocking his number and you're not going. why should you? you didn't get an answer seven years ago, and you certainly don't need one now.
you can just ignore this conversation and pretend it never happened and carry on with your lohen-less life. you've managed to survive for this long.
...
you're going to regret this.
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it isn't hard to spot lohen amidst the sea of students, leaning casually against a pillar and scrolling on his phone. you spent more than half your life with him after all. you don't approach him immediately, opting to stand a distance away to observe.
visually, he hasn't changed much. still the same murky green hair, bored expression, the singular mole underneath his right eye. the only difference is that the baby fat around his cheeks has slimmed down and he's gotten taller, along with the dagger piercing on his left ear.
you curse your heart for picking up speed when lohen finally notices you.
he smiles at you, all smug and a hint of something you don't dare name as fondness. you shuffle over to him.
"hey."
"hi."
you shoot him a confused glance as lohen opens his arms, as if expecting you to do something.
"what are you doing?"
he tilts his head at you innocently.
"aren't you gonna hug me?"
"no? why would i do that?"
"you used to greet me with a hug when we were kids. you don't remember?"
the audacity of this guy. does he still think the both of you are on good terms to ask for a hug from you? how shameless can he get?
"we're not kids anymore. i'm not hugging you."
lohen only shrugs and crosses his arms in response. a minute of silence passes before you clear your throat and speak up.
"you said you had an explanation."
you watch as he nods and digs around in his bag, pulling out an envelope that has definitely seen better days. lohen offers it to you as you stare in disbelief.
the edges are torn, the envelope itself is crumpled beyond repair and there's even a red-brownish stain that you hope isn't dried blood on a corner.
"...what is this?"
"your explanation. anyways, i have a class to get to. don't be a stranger alright?"
with that, lohen brushes past you, leaving you stunned to process the whole interaction.
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you only open the letter after a long day of classes. it seems that apart from his appearance, lohen's penmanship is also another thing that hasn't changed after all this time.
it took you some time to decipher his messy scrawls, but you manage to get through the letter.
my dear to (name),
ignore that tiny mistake. anyways! i will be sending my schedule to you soon. it has all my classes, electives, my club activities, you name it.
i understand that this isn't what you want and i frankly don't care. but since the both of us are pen pals now, i thought why not make use of this opportunity? fun right?
if you want an answer from me, you'll have to write to me and ask for it.
you know my schedule, you know where to find me.
hope to hear from you soon!
sincerely,
lohen
as if on cue, your phone goes off with a message from lohen. he's sent you a document of everything he mentioned in the letter.
what a bastard.
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"lohen! a girl asked me to pass this letter on to you."
lohen takes the envelope from varka, the latter slinging an arm around his shoulder, a wolfish grin on his face.
"when did you get yourself a girlfriend huh? didn't even bother to tell the rest of your club buddies?
a yelp is heard from varka as lohen shoves him off lightly.
"she's not my girlfriend. yet."
with thinly veiled excitement, lohen opens the letter which reads:
to lohen,
i hate you.
sincerely,
(name)
truly, he couldn't be happier.
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tags for lohen works: @pjselee, @thedamseletteofficial, @salmonsaw, @fireriyu
Blade,Boothill and Phainon x reader who suffers from dangerously low blood sugar to the point where they sometimes start experiencing blurred vision,horrible migraines and sometimes they even black out and loose consciousness for a little bit if it gets too low.Reader also sometimes forgets to eat which only worsens their condition and they need to be reminded to eat to prevent themselves from having another episode.
“Eat, Fight, Live”
Tags: Blade x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Protective Partners, Found Family Vibes, Companionship, Light Angst, Emotional Support.
Blade never thought he’d be capable of caring about another life. His world had been carved into fragments long ago, his body a vessel for scars and his soul little more than a battlefield. Yet you had somehow slipped past his jagged edges, settling into his orbit with a quiet persistence he couldn’t shake.
He had noticed the first time your hands trembled during a mission. You waved it off, muttering about a “migraine” as though that explained the pallor draining from your face. He had wanted to let it go — caring wasn’t his way, and the Stellaron Hunters were hardly the place for weakness. But when you nearly collapsed during a fight with mara-stricken foes, he caught you mid-fall, his eyes narrowing.
Later, in the quiet of a derelict ship, he cornered you.
“What is it?” His voice was sharp, but his grip on your arm was not. “You don’t falter like that unless something’s eating you alive.”
You hesitated, but Blade’s gaze didn’t waver. Eventually, you explained — the dangerously low blood sugar, the way you sometimes forgot to eat until it was too late. The blackouts. The blurred vision.
For once, Blade had no immediate words. Not because he didn’t understand, but because the thought of your body failing you out of negligence — out of fragility — stirred something restless in him. He had lived too long cursed with a body that refused to die, while yours teetered on the brink simply for lack of care. The contrast grated him raw.
From that moment, he took it upon himself.
Blade was relentless. If he noticed you hadn’t eaten, he’d drag a ration pack and shove it into your hands, muttering, “Eat.” Sometimes it was an order, other times almost an entreaty — as though his voice alone could anchor you. When you complained about not being hungry, he’d fix you with that sharp, red gaze.
“You don’t have to be hungry. You just have to stay alive.”
You learned quickly not to argue.
The migraines were harder. He’d sit beside you during the worst of them, silent but steady, his hand brushing yours — grounding, present. Once, when you blacked out in the middle of a station market, Blade’s arms were suddenly under you, lifting you with an ease that made heads turn. His glare scattered onlookers before they could ask questions. He didn’t care about appearances; he cared about the fact that your pulse was fluttering against his wrist like a fragile bird.
“You’ll eat,” he muttered once you woke in the safe dimness of the ship. “You’ll eat when I say. No more of this ‘forgetting.’”
“But Blade—”
“No.” His voice cracked with something more than command — something raw, almost desperate. “Don’t make me watch you fall apart when I can stop it.”
It was rare, hearing his voice tremble, and it stilled you more effectively than any order. You realized then — for a man cursed to endure eternity, the thought of you slipping away was unbearable.
Sometimes you teased him about it, calling him overprotective. He never smiled, but there was a softening in his gaze, a flicker of something unspoken. Blade never said the words outright, but his actions screamed them: the steady hand on your shoulder, the ration packs always within reach, the way he’d fight your battles of neglect even when he couldn’t fight his own.
You might black out, stumble, or forget — but Blade never did. He remembered for you. He carried the weight of your survival with the same ruthless focus he carried his sword. Because in his fractured eternity, you were the one fragile thing he couldn’t stand to see shattered.
“Darlin’, you’re lookin’ a mite pale.”
Boothill’s voice drawled from the doorway, his cowboy hat tilted low, red scarf trailing behind him as he leaned against the frame. You were sitting at the table of the Galaxy Rangers’ safehouse, staring blankly at a datapad while the world swam hazily before your eyes.
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the words lacked conviction.
Boothill didn’t buy it for a second. He sauntered over, spurs clicking, and plopped himself down across from you. His sharp black eyes caught yours, the faint aim symbols within them glowing like a target lock. “Fine, huh? That why ya look like you just seen a ghost an’ forgot how to breathe?”
You sighed, caught. “Low blood sugar. Again.”
Boothill clicked his tongue, sharp teeth flashing. “Again. An’ lemme guess — you forgot to eat.”
You winced. He had you pegged.
The gunslinger leaned back, tipping his hat. “Well, sugarplum, I ain’t much of a chef, but I reckon I can remind ya better’n that empty stomach of yours can.” He dug into his coat, pulling out a small wrapped candy. He tossed it onto the table with a grin. “First step: emergency sugar stash. Ain’t just fer kids.”
You blinked, then laughed softly. “You carry candy around?”
“Now I do.” He smirked. “Picked it up special fer you. Figured if you keeled over durin’ a raid, I’d be mighty inconvenienced draggin’ your body outta a firefight.”
His words were flippant, but the gleam in his eye wasn’t.
From that day, Boothill made it his mission. Every time you skipped a meal, he’d make a big show out of it. “Now hold on, partner, ain’t no ranger ridin’ out on an empty tank. You’re sittin’ your hide down an’ eatin’, or I’ll hogtie ya to this here chair till ya do.” He wasn’t kidding, either — you caught him once fiddling with actual rope while you pushed a meal aside.
When the migraines hit, he adapted. He’d darken the room, shoo away the others, and sit at your side, whistling low cowboy tunes to distract you from the pounding pain. If you fainted, Boothill’s arms were already there, cradling you like you weighed nothing. He’d brush your hair back with surprising gentleness for a man built of metal and vengeance.
“Scarin’ me half to death, darlin’,” he’d mutter, voice quieter than usual. “Ain’t fair, y’know. I done lost too many folks. Don’t you go addin’ yourself to that graveyard.”
You squeezed his hand once, whispering, “I’ll try.”
“Try harder.” His grin returned, though it was tight. “Or I’ll be feedin’ you spoonfuls like a stubborn baby calf.”
He made you laugh even in the worst of it, and that was his magic. Boothill refused to let your condition weigh you down with sorrow. He’d spin it into banter, into warmth, into something manageable. You weren’t just surviving — you were living, and Boothill made damn sure of it.
And though he never said it outright, you knew the truth: for a man who lost everything to the IPC, protecting you wasn’t just duty. It was redemption.
Phainon had always been vigilant. It was in his nature, born of loss and carved into his very Coreflame. He carried the weight of others with ease, but when it came to you, his vigilance deepened into something fiercer — something gentler.
He noticed the signs immediately: the way your eyes sometimes unfocused, the slight tremor in your hands, the way your body swayed when you thought no one was watching. At first you brushed it off, claiming it was “just fatigue.” But Phainon’s eyes — bright as the horizon — were not so easily deceived.
One evening, after a grueling spar, you slumped against the wall, vision swimming. Phainon crouched before you, concern written plain on his face. “Tell me the truth.” His voice was calm, steady — the kind of tone that invited confession.
You did. You explained the blood sugar drops, the blackouts, the forgetting-to-eat.
Rather than chastise you, Phainon reached into his coat and produced a small pouch of dried fruits and nuts. He pressed it into your hands. “Then we’ll remember together.”
From that day forward, he did. Phainon integrated reminders seamlessly into your life. A soft nudge of a ration bar during travels, a gentle, “Eat first, then we’ll continue.” He never made it feel like a burden, never treated you as fragile. Instead, he wove care into companionship, as natural as the dawn.
When migraines struck, he’d dim the lanterns, kneel beside you, and hum softly — old songs from Aedes Elysiae, fragments of a home long gone. His warmth radiated not just from his Coreflame, but from the patience in his presence.
The first time you fainted in front of him, Phainon caught you before you hit the ground, gathering you into his arms as though you were the most precious relic. His choker shifted, revealing briefly the sun-mark of Worldbearing, glowing faintly as though responding to his fear.
When you woke, he was there, hand entwined with yours. His smile was faint but steady. “The world asks much of us, but I ask only this — that you care for yourself as I care for you. For even legends stumble when they fight on an empty heart.”
You whispered an apology, but Phainon shook his head.
“No apologies. Only promises.”
And so you promised — not because you felt guilty, but because his belief in you made you want to keep it.
Phainon never let you feel alone in your struggle. He framed it as part of your shared story — another trial to overcome together. His optimism carried you when your own hope faltered. His laughter, his quiet jokes, even the way he’d pretend to steal bites from your plate just to ensure you ate — all of it was flame and light intertwined.
To the world, Phainon was a living legend, the nameless hero who defied destiny. To you, he was the gentle reminder that survival could be more than a fight — it could be a shared dawn.
And as he once told you, with his hand brushing your cheek, voice soft as a vow:
“If you fall, I will rise with you. Always. For no flame burns alone.”
hello!! can i request reader x hsr men (aventurine, blade, mydei, phainon, and jing yuan) who really likes to sneak up on people and try and startle them. obviously it hardly ever works since most of them have an amazing awareness of their surroundings. maybe some of them play into it every now and then, pretending to jump and be startled. but one time she actually does startle them and they accidentally hit her. they're immediately on the ground next to her- making sure she's okay and what not.
sorry if this is too much!!
Reflexes and Surprises
Tags: Blade x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Mydei x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Platonic, Humor, Slice of Life, Light Romance (?), Teasing, Mild Injury, Protective Moments.
Warnings: Brief Physical Contact, Accidental Hitting, Startle Scenes, Minor Pain, Slight Frustration, Character Flinching.
It started as a game you never won.
Phainon had this uncanny sixth sense — maybe it came with being a “Deliverer,” or maybe it was the result of years in battlefields where a single misplaced breath could end a life. Either way, sneaking up on him was an exercise in futility.
You’d tried everything.
Tiptoeing across the courtyard while he read scrolls under the apricot tree? He’d greet you before you reached him.
Leaping from behind a pillar when he trained at dawn? He’d sidestep you, smile, and hand you a towel before you could even yelp “Boo.”
Once, you even tried disguising your steps with the rhythm of the wind chime. That time, he turned, caught you mid-pounce, and said, “You should teach the breeze that trick. It’s losing its timing.”
Phainon wasn’t teasing to mock — he was too gentle for that. He just… sparkled with that infuriating mix of kindness and awareness that made your efforts feel like play to him. And you didn’t mind. Seeing that small, amused smile tug at the corners of his lips was reward enough.
Until the day you actually succeeded.
You’d been waiting for the right moment — late afternoon, when he returned from patrols. The setting sun cast his silhouette long and golden across the steps. He removed his armguard, the glow of his Coreflame pulsing faintly through the leather choker at his throat. For once, he seemed lost in thought — not warrior nor myth, just a man watching the horizon.
Perfect.
You crept closer, holding your breath. Your foot avoided every creaking tile, every stray leaf. He didn’t turn. You grinned.
And then—
“Boo!”
His body spun on reflex — a blur of movement honed by years of combat. His arm lashed out in an instinctive strike meant for an ambusher, not a friend. Your world spun; the air rushed out of your lungs as his forearm clipped your shoulder. You stumbled backward, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
There was a heartbeat of silence. Then—
“Oh, Kephale—!”
Phainon was already on his knees beside you, the sunmark on his throat flaring in distress. His hand brushed your cheek, checking for blood, injury, anything. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— You shouldn’t have— Are you hurt?”
You blinked up at him, still dazed. “I— think I startled you for once.”
The look he gave you could’ve melted the armor off a Titan.
He exhaled shakily, eyes softening. “You did. And the world nearly died for it.”
You laughed weakly. “Guess I won the game.”
His hand hovered at your shoulder, gentle but firm. “No victory is worth a bruise on you.”
You smiled despite yourself. “You’re too dramatic.”
“Perhaps,” he said quietly, gaze shifting toward the horizon again, “but when you fight to protect, you learn that instinct doesn’t think. It only remembers.”
He helped you sit up, his touch steady, careful. For a while you both sat there, the last light painting the sky in streaks of fire.
Finally, he chuckled — that soft, honeyed sound you always loved. “You really startled me. That hasn’t happened since… the war.”
You tilted your head. “Then I’m honored.”
He grinned, faintly sheepish. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re predictable,” you countered.
He raised a brow. “Oh?”
You grinned. “Next time, I’ll go for left side. You always turn right.”
Phainon laughed, head thrown back, voice warm as a hearth. “Next time,” he said, “I’ll try to be surprised for real.”
Mydei was impossible to startle.
Not because he lacked humor — though his stoicism could make statues blush — but because his awareness was ironclad. A prince raised in exile and a soldier forged in war didn’t do surprise. Even when he pretended to play along with your little ambushes, you knew it was pity, not actual shock.
Once, you tried creeping up behind him during sword drills. Before your fingers even touched his shoulder, he murmured, “Three more steps, and you’d be impaled by my shadow.”
You jumped back so fast he actually cracked a smile. “Relax,” he’d added, “it’s only half a warning.”
But today… today you caught him off-guard.
He was sitting by the fire pit, polishing his blade — the crimson runes along the metal glinting like embers. The flicker of flames danced across his eyes. He looked tired, but peaceful, for once.
You inched closer. One step. Two. The crackle of fire covered your approach perfectly. You crouched behind the log beside him, suppressing laughter.
Then, with a sudden leap, you shouted, “Gotcha!”
Mydei reacted instantly. His arm swept backward in a blur; the flat of his palm connected sharply with your arm. Pain stung, and you yelped as you toppled backward into the dirt.
He froze.
“[Name]—!”
The blade clattered to the ground as he spun around, eyes wide with horror. He knelt beside you, grip trembling slightly as he cupped your shoulder. “Did I—hurt you?”
You winced, rubbing your arm. “No, I’m fine. Just surprised.”
His voice dropped to a low, remorseful murmur. “That was reckless.”
You snorted. “You? Or me?”
He blinked, then exhaled, lips tugging faintly upward. “Both.”
You sat up, noticing how his fingers still hovered near your arm, hesitant to touch. The fire crackled softly between you.
“I keep forgetting,” you said lightly, “that your instincts are… sharp.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They were sharpened by necessity. Reflex, not choice.”
For a long moment, he stared into the fire, its light flickering in his eyes. “I’ve spent years surviving things that don’t announce themselves. It’s… difficult to turn that off.”
You tilted your head. “Guess I should stop trying to sneak up on a demigod.”
That earned you an amused huff. “If you insist on it,” he said dryly, “at least wear armor next time.”
“Deal,” you grinned.
Mydei actually laughed — low and genuine, rare as starlight. The sound made the whole incident worth it.
Later, as he packed away his blade, he said quietly, “You startled me.”
You blinked. “Really?”
He met your gaze, a small, unreadable smile forming. “Yes. And I’m grateful for it.”
“Grateful?”
“It reminded me that even the most guarded walls can still let laughter through.”
You’d made it your unofficial mission: wake the “Dozing General” with a good scare.
Of course, Jing Yuan wasn’t really asleep half the time — he was meditating, or listening, or pretending. You never could tell. But that didn’t stop you from trying.
The Cloud Knights adored it. Every failed attempt became a running joke. “General will see through any ambush,” they’d say. “You could drop from the rafters and he’d catch you midair.”
Challenge accepted.
One quiet afternoon, you found him leaning against a railing overlooking the courtyard, sunlight painting his white hair gold. His lion companion was nowhere in sight — the perfect opportunity.
You tiptoed closer. Jing Yuan’s back was turned, his posture loose, the very image of serene unawareness.
Now or never.
You lunged forward with your loudest “Boo!”
In a flash, Jing Yuan pivoted, hand snapping up — the flat of his palm striking your shoulder before he even registered who it was. You stumbled back, eyes wide, the sting spreading through your arm.
Then everything happened at once — his hand dropped, his expression broke, and he was crouching beside you, worry etched deep into his face.
“Ah—[Name], I—!” His voice faltered for once, that calm composure cracking. “Are you all right? Did I—”
You blinked, still dazed. “I guess that’s a no on startling the General, huh?”
For a second, silence. Then Jing Yuan exhaled — long, heavy, almost laugh-like. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“You hit me,” you deadpanned.
“Reflex,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been ambushed too many times to risk a repeat.”
You couldn’t help but grin. “So I actually startled you?”
He chuckled, helping you to your feet with surprising gentleness. “You did. Mark it in your record — the first and last victory.”
“Last?” you challenged.
“I’m retiring undefeated,” he said with mock pride. “Though… I suppose I owe you a drink as apology.”
You laughed. “Make it two.”
He smiled — that soft, amused curve of his lips that warmed more than the sunlight. “Done.”
Later, as you both leaned against the railing, the moment behind you, Jing Yuan said quietly, “It’s good, you know.”
“What is?”
“That you try to startle me. Reminds me I’m still human enough to flinch.”
You glanced up. “And here I thought I was just annoying you.”
“Annoying?” He laughed softly. “Perhaps. But it’s a kind of joy, too — knowing someone cares enough to interrupt my peace.”
You nudged him. “Next time, I’ll bring confetti.”
“Next time,” he said, eyes glinting with mirth, “I’ll let you win.”
With Blade, it wasn’t just hard — it was suicidal.
The man lived on the knife’s edge between awareness and violence. His instincts were weapons sharper than his sword. The Stellaron Hunters warned you. Kafka warned you. Heck, even Silver Wolf placed bets on how many seconds you’d last before regretting it.
Still, you couldn’t resist.
You’d gotten used to his quiet habits: sitting on the edge of rooftops, sword resting beside him, the wind playing with his hair as he stared at nothing. Always distant, always somewhere else. He rarely spoke, but you’d come to understand his silences. They weren’t cold — just… tired.
So, one night, under the cold glow of the stars, you decided to try. Just once. For fun.
He didn’t even seem aware of your approach — his breathing slow, steady. The broken sword gleamed faintly beside him. You tiptoed behind, hands ready.
“Boo!”
In less than a heartbeat, his body twisted. Steel flashed. The air screamed. The sword’s flat side caught your ribs before he halted mid-swing — horror flashing across his crimson eyes.
You gasped, stumbling backward, clutching your side.
“[Name]—” His voice cracked, low and harsh, as if dragged from his throat. The sword clattered aside as he grabbed your shoulders, pulling you down carefully. “Did I—did I hurt you?”
“I—ow—maybe just a little,” you wheezed, half laughing despite the pain.
His hands trembled. Trembled. Blade, the immortal weapon, the man who bled and healed without pause — looked terrified.
“I didn’t know it was you.” His tone was rough, like broken glass. “I—shouldn’t—”
You managed a pained grin. “Guess I startled you.”
He stared at you, disbelief flickering. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched — something between relief and amusement. “You… did.”
You nudged him weakly. “See? Even the unflinching can flinch.”
His expression softened, the red in his eyes dimming to something almost human. “Don’t do that again.”
“Scared you’d hurt me?”
“Scared I wouldn’t stop next time.”
The honesty in his voice was like a blade itself — cutting, but clean.
You nodded quietly, letting him help you sit. The night wind brushed past, carrying the faint hum of city lights below.
“Hey,” you said after a while. “I didn’t mean to—”
He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You smirked faintly. “Except scare an immortal man.”
That earned a breath of a laugh from him — rare and fleeting. “Congratulations,” he murmured. “You’ve done what even time couldn’t.”
You grinned. “I’ll frame that.”
He looked at you then — really looked — and said quietly, “Thank you.”
.✦ ݁˖ streamer!phainon plays tomodachi life: living the dreaaaaaam | wc: 1.2k | notes: caught myself daydreaming about phainon with glasses on which pushed me into finishing this, phainons a dummy, soooo much fluff, featuring mydei.
phainon finishes up his shift on ‘supermarket simulator’ on stream before closing the game. adjusting his glasses, he reads over his chat.
neikosglazer: yeah you sold this business. it’s over ggs
dustofgenesis: YOU FORGOT TO RESTOCK THE SIX PACK MILK
ph4ik0s: only $3k income this shift??? L L L L
964koskos: w shift, you forgot to change the prices on the oil
“you guys suck at rage baiting me. i’d like to see YOU try checking out all these people whilst keeping an eye on stock levels.” he lets out a huff, clearly rage baited by his viewers.
he changes his screen so that only his face cam is visible whilst he sets up his switch for streaming. phainon was waiting oh so patiently for tomodachi life to come out and when he had heard the demo was now available, he was bursting at the seams to play it on stream.
you were watching phainon’s stream from the living room, tucked up in thick blankets with fuzzy socks on. you took sips from the hot drink in your hands from time to time and giggled softly when phainon did something silly, which was most of the time.
phainon starts up small talk while setting up and his chat consistently ask when he’s being his girlfriend on the stream. to which he always shakes his head with a smile on his face. “only when she’s comfortable! being in the spotlight with thousands of people watching you is a scary thing and i wouldn’t want to force her into something like that.”
with a small tilt of his head, he finishes setting up and the screen of his switch comes into view on stream. “on that note though, you’ll get to see her today! in tomodachi life of course.”
the stream chat goes crazy at this, messages flying over one another and phainon has a hard time trying to read. he laughs at the chats reactions and quickly opens up the game. phainon instantly gets to work, naming his island ‘Aedes Elysiae Island’, calling himself as ‘The Deliverer’ and moving past the basics so he can get to making your mii character.
“you know chat, i don’t even need a reference photo for this because my dawnlight is on my mind twenty-four seven, three sixty-five.” phainon smirks whilst tapping his temple with his finger. the chat digitally roll their eyes at him.
neikosglazer: “my dawnlight” we get it YOURE WHIPPED
neighcaus: i think i cringed AND threw up in my mouth a little
694phai: i think the highway is calling me
he chuckles while reading his chat, focusing on making your mii character beyond perfect. phainon manages to get every detail of you, to your hair colour to the small details on your face. he didn’t miss a single thing and it was all from memory which had you more proud than impressed. phainon carefully chose out which trait suited you best and when your little mii was done, he bounced in his chair with excitement.
once the game deemed that your mii was ready for a friend, phainon wasted no time in making his. though that was his first mistake.
neineikoskos: PHAINON MAKE YOUR MII LAST I BEG YOU
phaikos964: oh my god he’s cooked.
lygusiswatching: ggs
demielysi: bro listen to the people or else youre going to witness a VERY TRAGIC STORY
phainonstoe: yeah hes a goner. we cant save him.
num1neikosfan: istg if he makes mydei as the third mii
phainon is oblivious to the chat and makes his character anyway. he eagerly makes his mii and somehow ends up with the purple and yellow out fit combo along with a ‘headstrong’ personality. he immediately gets the two of you to chat about if ‘salad is considered a dish that can be cooked’ which leads to your mii character being a little taken back but regardless, is enjoying the conversation. then phainon begins to think about who he should add next to ‘Aedes Elysiae Island’.
so then he adds mydei.
“okay listen, he’s my best friend! not my number one best friend but i think he’d make a great addition to this island, dont you think?” his chat groans internally.
the way phainon makes mydei’s mii character is rushed and you can tell that he just wants to get this over and done with so his and your mii can interact and fall in love. but what phainon doesn’t miss are the tattoos that mydei has along his body. to “add character and uniqueness”, he says. yet they’re drawn on messy and out of place. as soon as mydei arrives, to nobody’s surprise, phainon is already chatting his head off. whilst your mii wanders off to god knows where.
soon enough, your mii falls over and phainon accidentally picks up mydei instead of himself. he doesn’t even notice that he’s done this, a smirk on his face as he looks into the camera. “watch this.”
and then mydei’s face pops up on the screen with the stupid sparkles in the background as your mii stares at him with massive blush marks on your cheeks.
“WHAT.”
the chat is spamming ‘i told you so’ while he holds his head in his hands, eyes scrunched shut. phainon gets the cutscene over with and stares at the two mii’s in disbelief. he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, not believing what he’s done for a second before putting them back on. he sees that your mii ‘totally fancies’ mydei while you’re like-minded with phainon and he’s the same with you.
“oh it’s the end of the world. my dawnlight has foresaken me and fallen in love with another. oh woe is me.” phainon wails as his chat laugh at him like he’s a jester.
nonphai: WE TOLD YOU BRO
neineikoskos: dont say we didnt warn you buddy
demielysi: L L L L LLLLLLLLLLLLL
ph4aiskos: man we messed up, now we gotta go bald.
meanwhile, you’re laughing at his despair in the living room and you can feel the gloomy mushrooms start to grow. of course, phainon somehow manages to mess up but you honestly don’t need a silly social simulation game to have his love proven to you. you love him regardless if tiny versions of you don’t.
—
the moment gets clipped and you come across it when you’re scrolling on your phone, phainon’s head on your lap and your fingers in his hair as you both marinate in each other’s presence. you giggle as you play the video and phainon looks up, your fingers still intertwined with strands of his hair. you wordlessly show him the video and he huffs, almost like a dog that’s fed up. his lays his head back onto your lap and nuzzles aggressively.
“stupid tomodachi life game. i cannot believe you betrayed me like that.”
”me?! you’re the one who placed mydei to help me up instead of yourself! it’s no one’s fault but your own phainon.”
”you were supposed to fall for my irresistible looks.”
you sigh but a smile forms on your face regardless and you lean down to kiss his forehead, brushing away the hair that covers it. phainon closes his eyes as your lips touch his skin and a small smile appears on his lips. you kiss his cheeks and nose then finally a small peck on his lips before you resume watching the clip on your phone.
”so are you going to restart the game?”
”until i’m one where i’m head over heels for you.”
“If I was an anglerfish, would you keep me up here with you or let me free in the ocean to dive back into the deep sea where we would never see each other again?”
Phainon stares at you for a moment. He is contemplating.
There was no question of “would you still love me if I was an anglerfish?” Because it’s Phainon. He’s seen you at your worst (he’s seen you eat cereal with orange juice instead of milk), of course he would still love you.
He holds your shoulders. He dons an expression that is close enough to physical pain.
“Partner,” he says, “I love you too much to be so selfish and keep you by my side when I know it would come at the cost of your wellbeing.”
Conclusion: Phainon would let your deep-sea-fish-persona back into the wild but would cry without pause for the next few business days.
He does not say it out loud but he would absolutely come to the ocean every day, staring out at the sea like a widow mourning a lover lost to Davy Jones’s locker.
Anaxagoras
“If I was a cockroach, would you subject me to your experiments?”
“Of course not,” he says dismissively, but the second glance he gives you looks a bit too unsure about that answer.
You whack his shoulder. He jumps into an explanation as to why cockroaches would be quite intriguing to investigate due to their extreme physical resistance and rapid reproduction abilities.
In the end, he concludes that he would try to find a way to turn into a cockroach himself.
Conclusion; two little cockroaches against the world 🤍 (literally, because you would terrorize everyone else)
Blade
“If we were stranded on a deserted island and I turned into a worm, would you use me as bait to catch fish to eat?”
Blade stared at you with that unimpressed poker face of his.
“No.” Is all he says, not because he does not find that situation realistic in any way but simply to indulge you.
Of course, Blade technically does not need to eat because of his immortality but he can still starve.
“So you’d rather starve to death all over again?” You ask.
He sighs. “Yes.” Is his answer, yet again without any further explanation.
Conclusion: Blade would piece together a tiny shelter from leafs and a pool of water so you won’t burn to a crisp in the sun. (He also finds it unnecessary to use you as fish bait either way because he would only get one fish out of it and that’s not much help when stranded for a longer period of time).
Boothill
“If you were a bird and I was the last worm alive, would you eat me?”
“What kind of question’s that? ‘course I won’t!” Boothill is a loyal man. He’d defend you against any other birds trying to snack you.
You’ve asked him before if he’d still love you if you turned into a worm and he absolutely would.
Would it be weird? Yes. Would Boothill care? No.
The only thing still at debate was what he would do if you turned into an IPC worm. That was a whole other predicament.
Conclusion: Bootbird can get really aggressive if he wants to be. Especially when someone’s threatening his favorite worm.
Last updated: April 14, 2026 (currently working on this)
Back to Phainon Masterlist.
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✦ Tone guide:
🌧 Angst | 🩹 Hurt/Comfort | 🔥 Intimacy | 🔞 18+
(Most works lean Fluff right now.)
☀️= current personal favorite
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
First Kiss (Fluff) (Wc: 239)
🔥Second Kiss (Fluff. Playful Phainon. Suggestiveness. Heated Kissing) (Wc: 599)
☀️🔥 Kiss Him Senseless (Flustered Phainon. Pinning Him Against the Wall, Kissing Him Senseless. Fluff (and Heat)) (Wc: 1119)
☀️🔥 Hold Still, Dawnlight (Soft Dom!Phainon. He Pins You Down. Makeout. Flustered Reader) (Wc: 1290)
Getting Along With Phainon (Wc: 282)
🔥How Phainon Shows His Love (Fluff) (Wc: 619)
🩹Until You're Steady (Hurt/Comfort) (Wc: 467)
The Thief, The Chase And The Look On Your Face (Fluff. Playfulness. Phainon Being Cheeky. Teasing. Kiss) (Wc: 901)
🩹To Be Seen (Soft Romance. Hurt/Comfort. Vulnerability. Feeling Invisible. Phainon Sees You. Insecurities) (Wc: 1071)
Canvas Confessions (Phainon. Jing Yuan. Aventurine. Separate) (Artist!Reader. Fluff. Playfulness and Flirting) (Wc: 2230, about 700 per guy)
🔥Drawn to You (Phainon. Jing Yuan. Aventurine. Separate) (Reverse Drawing Scenario. Fluff. Humor. Affectionate Teasing. Light Banter. Soft Yearning. Physical Affection. Established Relationship. Suggestiveness. Making Out) (Wc: 4301, about 1400 per guy)
☀️🔞 Worship in Warm Water (Smut. MDNI. Female Reader / AFAB Reader. Soft Dom Phainon. Oral Sex (Reader Receiving). Semi-Public Setting (Pool Sex). Praise Kink. Phainon Being Vocal. Multiple Orgasms. Body Worship. Aftercare) (Wc: 1919)
Modern AU University (Phainon. Mydei. Anaxa. Separate) (Wc: 2100, about 700 per guy)
Light Among Ruin (Fluff. Marriage Proposal) (Wc: 960)
Wedding Day Aftermath (Fluff) (Wc: 434)
☀️Morning Walks (Phainon. Jing Yuan. Separate) (Fluff. Introverted Reader. Established Relationship. Morning Walks. Soft Moments. Playful Banter (Phainon). Serene Romance (Jing Yuan). Flirting. Hand Holding. Kissing. Public Affection) (Wc: 3887 in total. Phainon: 2352, Jing Yuan: 1535)
Direct Sunlight (Fluff. Direct Confession. Mutual Pining (Resolved). Modern AU (Lightly)) (Wc: 572)
🩹Fever Blur (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Separate) (Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Sick!Reader. Fever dream. Auditory hallucinations. Established relationship. Caretaking) (Wc: 2457 in total, about 800 per guy)
☀️Tiptoe Kisses (Tooth-Rotting Fluff. Public Display of Affection. Height Difference. Kisses. Hair Ruffling. Flustered Phainon. He Flusters You Back) (Wc: 1709)
🩹The Weight of Stories (Phainon. Dan Heng. Aventurine. x Reader. Separate) (Hurt/Comfort. Warm Hugs. Vulnerable Reader. Reader Crying. Soft Physical Affection. Gentle Intimacy. Modern-ish Setting. Canon Divergent. Tenderness. Protective Behavior) (Wc: 1397 (about 460 per guy)
🩹A Day That‘s Yours (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Separate) (Fluff. Established Relationship. Birthday Celebration. Reader Never Properly Celebrated Before. Hurt/Comfort. Secret Planning. His Love Language) (Wc: 3659 in total)
🩹Until the World Quiets (Hurt/Comfort. Fear of Loss/Future Events. Cuddling. Emotional vulnerability. Reassurance) (Wc: 941)
🌧🩹 In for Four (Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Panic Attack (Phainon). Reader Helps Him Through It. Emotional Breakdown. Grief-Driven Anger. Grounding Techniques. Guilt. Self-Doubt. Vulnerability. Hopeful Ending) (Wc: 1995)
🩹One Hundred Kisses (Hurt/Comfort. Healing Kisses. He Helps With a Headache) (Wc: 358)
Teddy Bear Advisor (Family Fluff. Female Reader. Dad Phainon. Domestic Vibes. Group Hugs. Softness) (Wc: 745)
🔥Clingy, Kissy Chaos (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Separate) (Fluff. Established Relationship. Clingy Reader. Surprise Kisses. Teasing. Slight Suggestiveness) (Wc: 853, about 280 per guy)
🔥Early Morning Softness (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. x Reader. Separate.) (Fluff. Established Relationship. Morning Routines. Domestic Bliss. Cuddling. Kisses.) (Wc: 1430, about 470 per guy)
Cold Nose, Warm Lips (Fluff. Modern AU. First Date. Snowfall. Winter Walk. Mutual Pining. Playful Banter. Snow Angels. Sledding. Kissing. Phainon Is Down Bad. Getting Together) (Wc: 1563)
🩹Bruised Knuckles and Tender Promises (Modern AU/College AU. Hurt/Comfort. Protective Phainon. Childhood Friends (Pre-Relationship). Bullying Mention (non-graphic). Phainon Gets Angry On Your Behalf. Hugs. Forehead Kiss. Love Confession (sort of)) (Wc: 2147)
The Festival of Beautiful Voices (Tooth-Rotting Fluff. Phainon Is Down Bad. Flirting. Playfulness. Mutual Pining. First Kiss. Public Love Confession/Public Display of Affection. Getting Together. Tenderness) (Wc: 2157)
🩹Learning Affection (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Jing Yuan. Dan Heng. Separate) (Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Soft Affection. Emotional Vulnerability. Touch-Starved. Pre-Relationship → Getting Together. Reader Is Affectionate) (Wc: 4687 in total)
☀️🔥Lullabies (Female Reader. Domestic Fluff. Dad Phainon. Established Relationship. Married Bliss. Made-Up Lullabies. Tender Kisses. Cuddling. Playful Banter. Gentle Intimacy) (Wc: 2315)
What It Means to Be Chosen (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Separate) (Marriage Proposal. Vulnerability. Self-Doubt. He Thinks He’s Unworthy. Hurt/Comfort (Soft). Emotional Intimacy. Established Feelings) (Wc: 1287 (about 400 per guy)
Pole Position (Phainon. Mydei. Separate) (Formula 1 AU. Fluff. Romantic Tension. Teasing (Phainon). Intimacy (Mydei) (Wc: 1059 (about 500 per guy)
🔥Dawnlight, Please (Fluff. Established Relationship. Suggestive. Needy Phainon. Public Affection. Tension. Teasing. Kisses. Making Out) (Wc: 621)
☀️🔥Good with My Mouth (Modern AU. Jealous Phainon. Yearning Phainon. Friends to Lovers. Light Humor. Mutual Pining. Phainon Is A Disaster In Love. Suggestive. Nudity (Premise). First Kiss) (Wc: 1588)
🔥For Appraisal Purposes Only (Fluff. Early Relationship. Teasing. Playful Phainon. Suggestive. Subtle Seduction. Flustered Moments. Intimacy. Romantic Vibes) (Wc: 496)
🔥First Touch (Fluff. Early Relationship. Yearning Phainon. Touch-Starved Phainon. Repressed Emotions. Tension. First Touch. First Kiss. Heated Make Out) (Wc: 1608)
Dad Mode: Activated (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Separate) (Female Reader. Domestic Fluff. Modern AU. Dad Phainon. Dad Anaxa. Dad Mydei. Parenthood. Family Vibes) (Wc: 758 (about 250 per guy)
🔥Strategic Planning (Modern AU. Female Reader. Fluff. Suggestive Themes. Implied Smut. Established Relationship. Doting Phainon. He Did The Research. Trying For A Baby) (Wc: 1426)
☀️Temporal Displacement (Fluff. Comfort. Sick Phainon. Clingy Phainon. Phainon Is Dramatic Even With a Fever. Caretaking) (Wc: 861)
🩹Measured in Honey and Warmth (Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Sick Reader. Soft Phainon. Established Relationship. Domestic Vibes. Cuddling. Acts of Care. Phainon Takes Care of You) (Wc: 915)
Rituals of Care (Fluff. Comfort. Domestic. Soft Moments. Established Relationship. Skincare Routine. Gentle Touches. Relaxation) (Wc: 1409 (about 470 per guy)
Top ten things to do on your first date to get their hearts pounding!
Phainon x Reader - Uni AU
Actually, the best first date is to go play bingo where you lose spectacularly because you have delayed audio perception. That and your boyfriend decides to pull a move so ridiculous (romantic) that has you rethinking your life choices.
//im baaaack. this one is a short chapter because ngl i lost motivation to write for this fic and i started working on a different one. who knows when i'll update this next but have fun with this one!!
Previous - Masterlist - Next
As per usual with the wonderful sleep schedule of university students, Anya sent the society group chat a mysterious survey to fill out at midnight. No explanation came until five minutes later, and even then, staring at the survey name in another tab, you were still a little unsure what you were staring at.
It isn't an event per-say, well not one for the general dormitory populace, but one meant for the members themselves and a plus-one. Plus, this was an event you didn't have to plan, just attend.
Of course, when you discussed it during dinner with Nithya, she had offhandedly said she'd bring one of her friends from her course. The thought of third-wheeling a pair of law students didn't particularly sound… appealing. But at a loss, you weren't sure who else you could really bring other than—
"Bingo? That sounds fun," Phainon hums, throwing the bundle of laundry into the machine as you fiddle with the settings of your own.
"You don't have to come if you can't, I know you have a big assessment coming up."
"One night away can't affect my grade that much."
"Its next week Thursday." A low rumbling joins the rest of the basically vibrating laundry room, and as you turn around, your eyes lower to his still half-full laundry drum as you continue, "6pm to 8pm if I remember correctly."
He turns around, and in an instant, a gentle smile appears on his lips as the corners of his eyes crinkle together. "I'll be free, don't worry."
In the days leading up to the event, to say you didn't worry would be a filthy, filthy lie. Never before have you ever thought being a business student is easy, but when you caught glimpses of the dense, almost Mycenean Linear B-esque text on his notes, your head all but fogged up and you think that maybe, just maybe, working with the most insufferable people for a group assignment is better than whatever that is. And to think that this is only a second-level course.
Still, time doesn't care about whether a hypothetical university student passes their exams or not, and staring at the weather app on your phone, an uneasy feeling settles in your chest. Winter over here generally means rain, and while that wouldn't be a problem back home, it seemed like this part of the country never really learned proper water drainage. Beyond that, the weather here seemed less like actual natural phenomenon and more like the whims of a bored god, so even if it says 7pm rain, you don't actually believe it.
Does that stop you from wearing impractical heels and thin tights? Of course not, temperamental weather is temporary, fashion is forever. You even put on a new handmade pin in your hair, and as you admire the little blue floret in the mirror, you pretend that you aren't dreading the ten million transfers you'll have to make to get to the restaurant.
Checking over every outlet for the ten millionth time and groping your bag for your wallet and umbrella, you leave your room and stand outside that door. Your hand raises, knuckles ghosting against the wood as your heart starts to pound in your chest again. Its not like this is a date, so why are you so nervous? This isn't a date, dates aren't with ten million other people at bingo, right? But you've never even had a date with this guy and you're going to be real honest right not, never even had a date period, so what do you know?
The tip of your knuckle bone taps a little too hard in your moment of hesitation, allowing a little knock to finally emit. In that very instant, an almost inaudible squeak leaves your lips as your eyes widen. Knowing your boyfriend's freakish senses— and the sudden increase inactivity coming from inside, he definitely heard you.
You're not ready, you're not ready, you're not ready, you're not ready, you're not ready. You're not ready! You needed to psych yourself up first!
Just as you're about to fall to your knees and cry, the door opens and you're greeted with a glorious sight. Gone are the interesting colour combinations and patterns, instead Phainon must have had a revelation in the hours you have not seen each other. The dark knit turtleneck that has you embarrassingly (mentally, you have dignity thank you very much) drooling over, the unbuttoned white button-up and pants, the long purple coat, even the bits of gold jewellery on his person makes you want to fall to your knees for a different reason that isn't despair.
He blinks, eyes scanning you up and down. A soft flush tinges the apples of his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling before he smiles, "You ready to go?"
It hasn't even been that long since you've seen him! So why do you feel like a teenage girl brushing shoulders with her hallway crush right now?!
Forcing yourself to act normal, you smile back, very much ignoring how warm your cheeks must be right now. "Yeah, let's."
In the the bus ride to the subway station, you already felt like exploding the moment you felt his shoulder next to yours but now? Now in the crowded subway where there's only one seat and the only other spot available right now is the hand rail right in front of you?
In a weirdly ventilated subway car, surrounded by ten million strangers and yet when you look up, it like its only the two of you here. When his gaze falls on you, the very way his eyes dilate, so wide until there's but a ring of azure blue, you wish the weirdly patterned seat would just swallow you whole. You thought you made progress, you thought you could make eye contact with your boyfriend without that damned rooster doing something about it.
But sweet heavens above, he looks so good right now, you just want to take his head into your hands and gnaw on him a little.
A normal thought that clearly belongs to a normal person.
When the two of you finally get to the restaurant, after a bus transfer that felt like it was never going to come, you're led to a private room with a bunch of—
"Oh."
"I wasn't expecting this many…"
Looking around the room, with some already seated and some surrounding a mysterious table, you suddenly realise that this event might not have been the most well-coordinated. Or well-advertised.
"… middle-aged women."
Its amazing actually, you've never this many in one place outside of parent teacher meetings, the market and the occasional tour group that passes campus.
As the two of you squeeze past the entrance and every other seated person, you find two empty seats with paper bags in front of them. As you shrug off your coat, you settle into your seat and dig into the bag, pulling out four pieces of paper. Here's another fun fact, it might be weird to say this as a part of a society whose whole job is to encourage reading, but you haven't read a book that wasn't a textbook in…. three years?
Okay that's a lie, but you sure haven't kept up with the current book trends.
Is it normal that all of these sound the same to you? They all have the pattern of 'A [insert item] of [insert noun] and [insert noun]' or some fancy mishmash word. This has to be a trend, right? You're half certain that if someone yells out any of these names right now for bingo, your ears would just do the audio version of when you stare into television static for too long.
"I'm going to be honest right now, I do not recognise a single name on this bingo sheet." Your lips pull back into a grimace, ears already straining from the chaos.
"Neither do I," A slight waver tinges Phainon's voice, but the mirth in his eyes is obvious. Or maybe its competitiveness, you honestly wouldn't put it past him to get worked up over bingo. "I guess we'll just have to smile and nod, huh?"
"You should send a photo to Castorice, maybe she'll know."
He thinks about it for a moment, lips pursing together before he digs out his phone to take a photo. There's a mischievous smile on his face now, features all scrunched together as he snickers, "Maybe."
After informing the society group chat of your arrival, you learn that Anya and her friends are now stuck in public transport while Nithya and her law friend are seated all the way on the opposite end of the room, leaving you separated by distance and thirty three million people.
You want to cry, only a little. Maybe if you had some good food right now, you can reduce that to not wanting to cry at all.
So you pick out the menu and oh sweet heavens, why is the pasta thirty five dollars.
Instinctively, your lips pull back into a grimace as you continue to scan this forsaken sheet for someone below thirty bucks. Which doesn't seem to exist by the way, unless you include the kids' menu. And you wish you could order from that, unfortunately you're starving.
Phainon seemingly notices your dilemma and gently pries the menu out of your hand, placing it back in the middle of the table. "Hey, why don't we just get some drinks and find something to eat later?"
"Post clubbing meal but instead of clubbing we went to bingo." There's a wry smile on your lips, brain already racing with all the possible places that could still be open when you leave. A breathy humour escapes your lips as the corners of your eyes crinkle, "What riveting lives we lead."
"Bingo can get pretty intense you know!" He quickly protests.
That grimace returns. "Really?"
"Going neck to neck, with one last square left and its between you and Filippa from down the street, you don't know what she needs and you don't know what's next, all you know is that with every draw that isn't either of what you need, your breathing gets heavier. And when they pull out that last deciding ball, now that's thrilling."
At a loss, all you can do is blink, staring at him, now definitely work up over bingo. There's literal sparkles in those big eyes of his, the stupid tuft of hair is even pin-straight in his enthusiasm.
"How much bingo are you playing to be so specific?"
Before he can answer, everyone suddenly quiets down as a woman starts to talk. She instructs everyone to pull out paper 1 and the bingo pen before your bingo-shaped fugue begins.
If you can be honest, you don't remember what just happened. In a room of 40+ people and exactly one person straining to be heard over everyone, all you know is if you made a drinking game out of how many times you pulled a face and went 'huh', you'd have permanent liver damage. On the other hand, Phainon is ridiculously good at bingo.
How good, you—dear observer— may be asking?
There were four games, he won two of them and got into that weird stalemate he just described the other two games. And then he had the audacity to do that stupid hand on the back of his neck and awkward smile when someone's mum glared at him!
You never get to quite meet up with the rest of the society in the restaurant, for reasons known as too many people, too little space. Plus, hunger quickly caught up with everyone and plans were swiftly made to drop by a nearby H***** J**** for dinner.
The problem now was how to get out since guess what, rain at 7pm never came. Instead the weather decided that it wanted to be fashionably late, and at the ripe time of 9pm, it is now raining so hard that the parking lot outside is vaguely flooded.
Staring out into the pitch darkness, you mentally shake your fist at the sky and at the government. You can't do another wet shoes induced fever! Not again!
Nithya taps on her phone before squinting off into the distance. "There's a bus stop nearby, we just need to walk 2 kilometres."
The rest of you follow her lead, blindly staring off into the horizon as if a beam of heavenly light will illuminate the way to the stop. You pop open your umbrella, a few others following suite while the rest tug up their hoods. Phainon doesn't open his.
"Okay, yep let's just…"
"Yeah…."
The images of your violent headaches, clogged nose and full-body aches flash across your mind, the tip of your shoe dips into the deep water before you stop. Through the rush of rain and splashing puddles, you can only watch as everyone walks off one by one.
Just as you're about to throw all caution to the wind, Phainon's voice comes from besides you, "I'm going to do something, promise me you won't scream?"
"What—"
Your voice dies in your throat as you're suddenly, and all too swiftly, brought into a carry. Out of panic and instinct, you throw an arm around his neck while you grip your umbrella so hard you can feel your nails dig into your palm.
"Your shoes don't have a lot of grip and as much as I love caring for you, I don't think you want to get sick again," He murmurs, an almost shy waver in the middle of his words. "So…."
All you can let out is a stilted 'ah', your eyes glued to his face as you feel your own grows warmer and warmer. It hits you, you're experiencing the same unrealistic bullshit those women were probably reading, you're being bridal carried in the rain. His chest is so big, and you're just resting against them, like a common whore. You didn't even he was built like this beneath all those clothes!
He starts walking, rain thudding against the umbrella as he holds onto you closer. Your tiny portable umbrella is just enough to cover the both of you, with only the tips of your heels getting wet. The rainy-winter chill doesn't come to pass when you're pressed up so close, your boyfriend radiating enough heat to cook an egg.
Finally, your throat decides to listen to you and you manage to squeak out a weak, "Be careful, I… would rather you not eat shit and we both fall downhill."
He laughs, the sound sweet. "Don't worry, I won't."
Passing beneath a lone street light, you catch sight of the tail end of the group, a bright blue umbrella in the distance and a few dark ones indicating your steady pace. For someone carrying a person and their (your) heavy as all hell bag, he doesn't show any signs of exhaustion or slowing down.
Through the heavy rain, he quietly admits, "You look really pretty today."
Your attention snaps to him, eyes widening as another noise catches in your throat. His lips are curled in a nervous smile, those beautiful eyes that seem to bear the sky glance down to you before he averts his gaze, the tips of his ears instantly glow with a warm flush. He feels warmer now, you're certain he can feel your press yourself against him.
"I wanted to tell you but I just couldn't, when I opened the door, I just couldn't get them out."
"Then in the subway, I noticed the flowers in your hair. "
"They're cute," He smiles, then as if to correct himself, he shifts, "You're really cute."
Its… been a while since someone's told you that. Well, a while since someone's been so earnest about it. Within your chest, for once that damn rooster has merely done nothing but curl at your heart, preening at the praise. A smile, one you can't quite control pulls at your lips.
"You look really handsome too," You murmur, resting your head against his chest.
His pace falters, for just a brief moment. During this pause, you can feel him straighten up, his hands hold onto you tighter as if he can't believe what he's hearing.
"I've never seen you dressed this put together and I—"
Your words catch, but you force them out anyways, swallowing down your embarrassment, "You looked really cute in bingo too."
"Which is so ridiculous to say but you really did look so cute beating someone's grandmother."
A puff of laughter escapes from him, the image of that poor announcer watching in horror as he raises his sheet again flashing across both of your minds.
"Maybe we should do a bingo event next semester and then I'll make you sign up so you can win the prize for us."
"You should, and make the prize a voucher for that frozen yoghurt place."
"Maybe then we can have a date that isn't with some woman who has a grudge against you for being good at bingo."
"Promise?"
As those distant umbrellas grow ever smaller, he holds onto you tighter and speeds up his pace. Mirth escapes your lips as easily as it does his, and despite the rain and rushing winds, it is now that you feel the warmest.
being kindred spirits in solitude, a quiet evening away from the festivities is just what you and your good friend, diluc needed. until you accidentally fell into a lake and made your night ten times worse (read: better).
★ FEATURING; diluc x reader
★ WORD COUNT; 8.2k words
★ TAGS; friends to lovers, banter, smut
★ NOTES; this was originally commissioned by my good buddy good pal @joonie-beanie back in april last year, and i deigned to turn it into a diluc bday fic! so happy bday, resident emotionally constipated redhead, and thank you to bean for trusting me to write this for you!!
★ HEADER ART CR; nokkusu on ig
★ SMUT TAGS; lots of teasing, oral (m & f receiving), vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, aftercare, dom diluc
If someone told you that every day is a festival in Mondstadt City, you’d believe them in a heartbeat. From bards serenading passers-by in every street to the taverns welcoming patrons left and right – you had infinite choices on how to spend your Friday night.
But as fate might have it…you’re stuck tending to a game booth in an actual, official Favonius-mandated festival instead.
You have nothing against celebrating Ludi Harpastum. It’s your favorite time of the year! It’s everyone’s favorite time of the year! But this week’s set of commissions from the Adventurer’s Guild have become more ridiculous than the last – how the hell were you assigned to escort transport balloons five days in a row?! – and honestly? You want nothing more than to go to town with your buddies for a drink or two.
Plus, wreaking havoc at Angel’s Share with Kaeya and Rosaria was practically routine now. Having to forego the sacred tradition in favor of covering for one of your colleagues at the Guild was more of a drag than you initially expected.
After said colleague injured his leg on a field job, he practically begged for you to take this special commission from his hands. It’s from a big-shot client, he said. He’ll nuke the Adventurer’s Guild if we turn him down, he said. Overdramatized explanation aside, you took it without that much of a fuss.
The commission sounds simple enough on paper – the main reason why you accepted in the first place. It said all you had to do was watch over the ring toss booth near the city gates, and you’ll get seventy percent of the revenue as compensation. You’ve heard enough hearsay about how much these booths actually earn during festivals, so you agreed to watch over it for a week, tops. Maybe you could squeeze a bit more cash to splurge at the bar once everything’s said and done.
On your third night on the job though, you finally start asking yourself if this was all worth it.
“Rough day?”
You startle to see Kaeya approaching as you begrudgingly close up your booth – shooting him a puzzled stare as the cavalry captain simply grins. Like he knows you’re having more than just a ‘rough day’.
“Didn’t I tell you how I hate taking commissions that require me to deal with people?” you grumble before tossing a sheet of cloth over the ring toss pedestal, hiding it from view.
Kaeya chuckles. “For someone who loves buying rounds for the entire tavern once the alcohol finally sets, you’re terrible at public relations. When it comes to your job, at least.”
“Drinking and having to run around doing everyone’s weird errands are two completely different things,” you argue.
“If it’s so terrible, why don’t you just quit?”
…Damn it.
“Anyway,” you emphasize, eye twitching with annoyance. “Where are you headed? Usually, you’d be terrorizing the people at Angel’s Share by now. And by people, I meant Diluc.”
“You flatter me!” The captain laughs again. “Well, I figured I’d flutter off to Cat’s Tail since Master Diluc’s flock of admirers tonight is a bit…stifling.”
Once you’re done securing the booth to make sure no burglars try anything funny, you flash Kaeya an unconvinced look. “Oh? Finding a group of ladies stifling instead of smooth-talking them into admiring you instead?”
“Hehe, though that’s my usual modus operandi on any other evening, what kind of fiend steals the thunder from the birthday boy?”
That makes you pause.
“It’s Diluc’s birthday?”
He nods. “While he may appear holier than thou – a god amongst men – Diluc actually has a birthday! Shocking, isn’t it?”
“Shut up,” you huff. “I’ve been drinking with you guys for years, but he’s never celebrated it. Not even once!”
“Well, that’s probably because he’s always out there saving the world even on his special day, no?” Kaeya shakes his head with a smile. “We’re lucky enough to have him in our midst this year, but I’m afraid his suitors know that very well, too. Just when I thought I could talk him into mixing me that limited edition Dead After Noon…”
You find it a bit funny, picturing the owner of Angel’s Share dealing with a bunch of customers-slash-admirers that just want to greet him a happy birthday. If you aren’t fond of human interaction on the job, Diluc is most definitely allergic to it. But with how exhausted you are, you can’t bring yourself to give an outward reaction.
“I take it you’re not in the mood to drink until dawn at the moment?” Kaeya follows up, brows raised. “I was actually patrolling the perimeter earlier today. Children can be quite…competitive when it comes to carnival games, if I do say so myself.”
Oh. He must’ve seen those stubborn kids who wanted to keep playing despite having no mora left to fork over. Too bad for them – you haven’t been in the most stellar of moods today, much less a generous one.
“Katheryne told me that jobs like these require the patience of a saint,” you say. “Sister Rosaria would argue that I wouldn’t gain any of that even in my next life.”
“I second that,” Kaeya hums along. “Speaking of Sister Rosaria, I believe she’s waiting for me with a mugful of ale. If you change your mind, come over to Margaret's, will you?”
You hesitate for a moment. Spending time with these odd vision-wielders took off the day's stress better than simply sleeping it off – you know that pretty well. But you're just so sick of these tedious commissions, that you kind of want to have some time for yourself. Gods, the things you'd do just to snag a job that requires you to venture off somewhere faraway instead of where you are now...
Giving Kaeya one last apologetic look, you say:
“Maybe next time.”
Are you really a Mondstadter if you don’t like Ludi Harpastum?
The question has been plaguing your head since your first day on the job. It’s the same question you ask yourself as you pass by the taverns and restaurants still bustling with business even this late into the evening. As the jovial noise flits through your ears, instead of being filled with the festive spirit, all you feel is annoyed.
Things weren’t always this way, though. You wonder if you’re just frustrated about being stuck in the city for longer than usual. You’re an adventurer, for archon’s sake. Sure, accepting boring commissions was part of the job, but anyone would lose their mind if they had to keep repeating the same routine.
Instead of heading home like you originally planned, you decide to make a quick detour.
The docks just outside the north-east gates are always empty come nightfall. More so now, with the festival in full swing. Usually, you amble by the lakeshore to clear your mind when you don’t want to rely on alcohol to do the job for you. There’s just something so…calming about the sound of water running beneath your feet, and the evening breeze blowing past your face. If you couldn’t go on riveting adventures, at least you can imagine the wind taking you somewhere else, right?
“Hm? It’s you.”
That familiar voice is enough to snap you out of your temporary haze of relaxation – blinking at your present company with a scowl.
Up ahead, you spot Diluc seated at the edge of the dock, the sleeves of his dress shirt folded up to his elbows. His fiery hair shines even under the flimsy light of the street lamp, and it takes you a moment to process that he’s actually there – a pile of stones resting on top of the folded coat right next to him.
Was he…skipping them across the water?
“Master Diluc,” you greet him with a lopsided smile – making sure your face doesn’t betray your curiosity too much. “What brings you here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replies, taking one of the stones before making it skip four, five times across the lake’s surface. “I thought Kaeya and Rosaria would’ve dragged you off to drink elsewhere, yet here you are.”
You shrug. “They did, but I wasn’t really in the mood.”
“I see.”
The silence settles over the both of you once more, and you dare to stride closer. With each step, the wooden platform groans beneath your weight. You train your eyes on Diluc as you take a seat next to him – half-wondering if he minds the intrusion. From the way the man quietly resumes his past time of skipping stones, though, you think you’re in the clear.
Your legs dangle over the edge along with his. You don’t really expect him to speak. Whether it’s about today being his birthday or the so-called admirers he’s garnered at the tavern, it’s all the same. Diluc Ragnvindr isn’t one for small talk. You didn’t have to be acquainted for years to know that.
“You’re running a booth this year, aren’t you?”
…Or not.
“I didn’t think the news would reach you,” you say, not bothering to mask your surprise. “I am – against my own will, but that’s besides the point.”
He breathes a sound that suspiciously sounds like a laugh. “Still can’t say no to jobs you don’t want to take. Didn’t Rosaria already talk you out of that habit of yours?”
“Hey, I’m not some hero-in-disguise who has the freedom to choose who I’m gonna save for the day.” You scoff. If Diluc notices the direct jab at his alter-ego, he doesn’t show it. “Work is work, whether I like it or not. Gods, I wish they would assign me on an expedition soon, though…”
He stares at you passively, weighing a stone on his gloved hand.
“What about your booth then?”
“It’s just some stupid ring toss booth.” you explain. “Maybe if you train enough out here, you can snag the grand prize in one go.”
Diluc simpers. “Bold of you to assume I’d actually spend my mora on a rigged game.”
“Excuse you.” You’re too late to stifle the gasp that you breathe in, a semi-offended grimace framing your lips despite the fact that you hated your job. “The wooden pegs are just painted for an added…optical illusion! It’s to increase the difficulty.”
“So you admit it’s rigged?”
You click your tongue. “It’s not my fault that customers think the pegs are closer because of the aesthetic! If they really want to win a lifetime supply of sunsettias, they shouldn’t let measly handicaps like that get in the way.”
Diluc tosses another stone into the lake – this one only skips twice before sinking to the bottom.
“A lifetime supply of sunsettias,” he repeats. “That’s your grand prize?”
“Hey, if you don’t like it, then don’t play.”
Again, silence – albeit more comfortable.
Sure, you didn’t get to drink and sing along to a bard’s tunes with Kaeya and Rosaria like usual, but Diluc makes for a good substitute. Even if he practically accused you of being a fraud. When you met him years prior, you never would’ve thought you’d be able to hold a casual conversation with Mondstadt’s wine tycoon like you are now.
As you sneak a glance from the corner of your eye, you realize that Diluc looks more disheveled than usual. Dress shirt rumpled. Red tufts coming loose from his hair tie. You can’t miss his oddly unguarded demeanor as he sits next to you even if you try, which is a surprise in and of itself, since he’s so uptight even inside his own tavern.
“...A little bird told me you had a bunch of suitors hounding you back at Angel’s Share.”
Diluc pauses for a while before casting you a perplexed stare. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re no fun.” You pout. “I’m talking about all those birthday guests trying to woo you, who else? Don’t tell me you turned them all down without giving at least one of them a chance.”
He takes on an unreadable look – one that tells you he’s ruminating about how you found out about both his birthday and those pushy patrons. In the end, Diluc decides not to ask since the answer is as clear as day anyways.
“You shouldn’t believe everything Kaeya tells you,” he tells you gruffly. “All that ever comes out of his mouth is a melodramatic version of the truth.”
“So there’s still some truth to what he said then?”
He looks like he’s trying very hard not to say something unbecoming of a gentleman to your face. “I held no such event to commemorate anything. The daughters of some shifty business partners just wanted to secure their livelihood by currying my favor is all.”
“Harsh as always,” you sigh. “What if those ladies genuinely liked you? How could you dismiss a person’s feelings as nothing but a ploy instigated by their rich fathers?”
“I personally don’t understand why everyone is more concerned about the state of my love life than I am.” He shakes his head, and – oh. He does get context clues about romance after all. “I don’t concern myself with the…attention of my patrons, because first and foremost they’re my patrons. Second, I don’t have time for trivial things like that.”
Now, that’s just sad. The man sitting right next to you has a face worth a million mora, yet he chooses to live a maidenless life.
“Look, I know you want to focus on protecting everyone from the shadows, but you should enjoy yourself from time to time, too,” you say, feeling a bit hypocritical given the fact that you were internally bitching about the festival before you ran into him. “It’s a miracle you’re even here, and not – I don’t know. Burning some Fatui bastards on a spit-roast or something?”
“Who ever said I’m not enjoying myself?”
You scowl at him again, already pitying him at this point, but you know Diluc won’t have any of it anyway. “Diluc. Master Diluc. Famous wine tycoon. Most renowned bachelor in all of Mondstadt – are you seriously committing yourself to being celibate for the rest of your life in the name of justice?”
He laughs almost mockingly. “If I am?”
“Well,” you start, swallowing thickly. “You’re too cool for that.”
“...I’m too cool to be celibate?”
“Yeah! Maybe if you just tried talking to one of those admirers of yours, you’ll finally get some action,” you elaborate without a shred of shame. “Clearly, there are already those who are interested – all lined up outside Angel’s Share, I bet.”
Diluc soaks up the silence once more before letting out a real laugh – one that catches you off guard, but is a welcome surprise no less.
“You and your insinuations,” he quips, sounding more amused than vexed. “Now who’s the one who told you I’m not getting any action?”
That makes you whistle. “Oh? He who doesn’t love anything else but Mondstadt is actually getting some? Now that’s something Kaeya, Rosaria, and I are going to have a field day talking about.”
“And why is that?”
Taking a stone from his little pile, skipping it across the water like he did minutes earlier. You even burn through his whole collection until you have nothing more to throw. Diluc’s eyes don’t stray too far as he waits for your response – making you flash him a patronizing smile.
Others would’ve probably talked smack about you teasing someone as famous and powerful as Diluc, but he’s always let you off the hook every time. That’s enough grounds to assume you’re at least a bit special, isn’t it?
“I just can’t picture you holding someone else’s hand, much more taking someone to bed,” you admit, but there’s no animosity in your voice. The words weren’t meant to tease, they’re just what you’ve generally observed about him. And you know goddamn well that a hundred other people would agree with you, too.
You wonder if Diluc is going to take that as the last straw and finally give you a piece of his mind. Sure, he’s comfortable to let you talk so boldly, but at the end of the day you’re just a regular customer at best. Maybe you shouldn’t try to emulate the way Kaeya treats him too much, just because you’re all buddy-buddy.
“Would you like to test it out then?”
The silence of the evening rings in your ears once again – the water flowing, the breeze sighing. But no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that you must’ve heard wrong, you don’t have enough alcohol in your system to make a convincing argument.
“What?” you ask dryly instead, subtly giving Diluc some leeway to change the topic.
“Hold my hand,” he tells you, and it sounds more imperative than anything else. “Don’t you want to see for yourself if I’m actually incapable of human contact?”
“Now it just sounds like you’re messing with me,” you grumble.
His mouth twitches into an amused smile for half a second before that resting bitch face settles back into place. “Are you going to do it or not?”
Now, you’ve held a great number of hands in your lifetime. Your parents’, your friends’, Master Cyrus from the Guild’s during your first promotion, and even Kaeya’s whenever the occasion calls for a drunken dance at the bar. Needless to say, you’re well-versed in the art of hand-holding.
But right now, with your fingers intertwined with Diluc’s, you feel as if someone pushed you inside Good Hunter’s outdoor stove with how hot your face feels.
Out of all the reactions you could’ve gotten, biting the bullet is the last thing you imagined Diluc would do. He’s usually the type who just lets every bit of slander thrown at him slide – always choosing to be the bigger person without really meaning to. The man just doesn’t give a damn about what other people have to say.
So why the hell is he holding your hand just to prove a point?
It doesn’t help that his fingers – though protected by the coarse material of his gloves – are unexpectedly warm. You have no idea why you didn’t anticipate that from a pyro user, but –
“See?” Diluc says coolly, red eyes staring out into the lake. “I can hold someone else’s hand.”
“That wasn’t the point I was trying to make.”
He turns to you with a miffed look. “What, do you want to test if I know how to hug, too?”
You could’ve used that chance to make the situation slip back into familiar territory. Diluc wasn’t much of a talker, so most of the conversations you had with him in the past consisted of you ranting about anything under the sun while he quietly listened to your plight. All you had to do was downplay…whatever this was and go back to talking nonsense like usual.
And yet…
“Fine.”
This time, you’re the one who initiates the contact – shifting your weight across the dock before pulling him into a wordless embrace. You feel Diluc stiffen, obviously unused to this degree of affection. But his strong arms eventually coil around your shoulders, and you feel your heart pick up the pace.
Two unsuspecting adults hugging by the shore of Cider Lake. Nothing is weird about this at all.
You half-expected him to pull away once he’s proved that he was most definitely not the emotionless excuse of a man everyone thinks he is. But you remain locked in Diluc’s embrace for more than two minutes, and you’re starting to become more and more aware of a lot of things.
First is his hair. It feels somewhat…fluffy from where the skin of your arms comes into contact with it. Then comes the scent of his clothes. You catch the faintest scent of booze on the fabric, and it’s probably from all the hours he’s spent behind the bar.
Last is…how firmly he’s holding on to you.
You would’ve boasted about how you got to hug Kaeya’s brother when the captain can’t even get in close proximity without getting an earful from Diluc. Affection has never been the staple between the two of them, it seems. All this time, you thought it was because Diluc is the kind of man who can’t freely give that out to just anyone. But when he heaves a deep, deep sigh and buries his face in the crook of your neck, you wonder how he managed to conceal this side of him for so long.
Is he actually harboring some problems deep down? He’s so mysterious and reserved that hardly anyone can tell if Diluc’s in a good mood or not. Still, despite not being entirely sure, you pat his back in soothing motions – hoping to give him some respite.
He probably needs this hug more than he let on.
It feels like lifetimes later, but the two of you manage to pull away eventually. When you do, though, Diluc is still too close for comfort. Close enough that you can clearly make out the curve of his lips – slightly parted as he sucks in a deep breath.
You’ve always been aware of how handsome this man actually is, despite the fact that he shoots down every single person who tries to hit him up. But getting up close and personal like this gives you an even deeper understanding of why people are vying for Diluc’s attention in the first place.
“Do you want to test out one more thing?” you whisper, not quite sure where your courage is even coming from.
The moment the words leave your lips, you worry that the message won’t translate well. Would he even get what you’re trying to insinuate? If he does, would Diluc even agree to it? You’re a pretty laid-back person, but you don’t think your pride can take it if he flat out rejects you right then and there.
Though it seems like the gods are on your side when Diluc leans forward without uttering a single word – capturing your lips in a chaste kiss.
Your mind is blank for the entirety of it, given that it’s a bit difficult to process the fact that you’re kissing one of the most untouchable men in the city. There’s nothing special about the way Diluc kisses you right now. He just meshes your mouths together firmly together – no teeth, no tongue. But the feel of Diluc pressing you against him alone is enough to drive your body into a fever pitch.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, shoulders heaving with bated breath.
“How was that?” he asks breathlessly.
At that point you don’t even think anymore. You lace your arms behind his head before diving in for another kiss – prying his lips apart with your tongue before threading your fingers through his hair. An animalistic noise rumbles low in his chest, making a full shiver skid across the length of your spine. Diluc holds your face with one hand, while his free arm coils around your waist in a near-possessive fashion. Once a shuddering moan slips past your lips, his grip tightens even more.
You only disengage when you feel like your lungs are about to burst – so lightheaded that you’re momentarily entranced by the red of his eyes. A trail of saliva even connects your lips, and Diluc stares at you with such a heated look that you hide your face in embarrassment.
That is not how people with no game kiss at all!
“Sorry,” he rasps, yet he sounds anything but apologetic. “I got carried away –”
“You think?” you laugh, palms gripping his shoulders as you muster the courage to look him in the eye again. “Remind me to never cross you like that again?”
To your surprise, Diluc doesn’t miss a beat. “Very well. Only if you let me do one more thing.”
“...What’s that?”
You barely stifle the yelp that escapes you as Diluc maneuvers you onto his lap – a continuous mantra of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck ringing inside your head. He stares at you with a semi-amused look, and even if the kisses you shared made you all hot and bothered, you still have the decency to feel embarrassed.
“If you drop me, I’m not going to talk to you for a month,” you hiss.
Diluc breathes in a soft laugh, and you tense up as you feel him massaging the curve of your thighs through your skirt. You know you should probably stand up and just walk the hell away, but when he nuzzles your neck with his nose, you’re too weak to refuse him.
How did things end up like this? One moment, you were teasing him like usual, and now Diluc is having his way with you. His mouth slots so perfectly against yours – swallowing each sound that climbs up your throat before groping your ass. Even through his gloves, you can feel the heat of his fingers, making you unintentionally roll your hips as Diluc devours your lips.
You’re fully aware that, even if everyone else is celebrating Ludi Harpastum to its fullest, you can’t let him whisk your consciousness away. Some poor Favonius guard might spot you sprawled across the lap of none other than Diluc Ragnvindr himself, and both your reputations could be done for. But still, you find solace in the fact that some of the crates stacked nearby are enough to conceal this unlikely tryst from prying eyes.
Kaeya wouldn’t believe it if you told him. Rosaria would bet that you simply had a fever dream. But when Diluc trails his mouth across the cut of your jaw – teeth grazing your skin until he finds your skittering pulse – you surrender yourself to the reality that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.
He hasn’t even done anything yet, yet you’re already aching. Diluc leaves bright red marks along the column of your throat, and despite your constant heed for appearances, you let him do as he pleases.
Something hot and hard prods your middle as you shift your weight. He takes a sharp breath, blood red eyes shining with lust and impatience alike. When you realize that you just got the most coveted man in Mondstadt to pop a boner, you can’t help the hint of smugness that paints your features.
However, your triumph is fleeting. Because even if both of you have long descended into a haze of debauchery, you’re still high-strung. The moment you hear a loud crash somewhere nearby, you violently jerk away from Diluc – failing to realize that there’s nothing behind you but a body of water.
Despite himself, Diluc is taken by surprise by your knee-jerk reaction, too, and he can only watch in befuddlement as gravity hooks you in with a backward force.
You’ve always wondered what swimming in Cider Lake feels like. A lot of kids dived into the nearer shores during summer, but the temperature tonight is absolutely not fit for a late night dip. Once you break through the surface, you gasp out loud – completely soaked as the wind mocks you with a soft but chilly breeze.
This is fine. You know how to swim. You’re just going to ignore a certain redheaded liquor tycoon for not being quick enough to catch you, but it’s all good.
Diluc doesn’t exactly feel the same way, though.
Faster than you can voice out your complaints, he kicks off his boots and dives into the lake – splashing water all over your already damp face.
Is this how the people he saves feel about his unsolicited help? Archons, the Dark Knight Hero can be so goddamn unaware –
“Are you alright?”
Diluc wraps his arms around your shoulders swimming closer to the shore until you find your footing again. Amidst his breathlessness, you find traces of concern in his voice. When you dare to look at him again, Diluc’s brows are creased together as he fusses over you, and you can hardly believe the two of you were just making out in the open two minutes ago.
He frowns when you let out the ugliest laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“I just feel like this is the culmination of my shitty week,” you admit with a sheepish smile, wringing out your hair as the heat he’d aroused from your body dissipates with the cold air. “But hey, at least I got to know you in...ways better than anyone else. How about we head back before one of the guards spots us, yeah?”
You thought Diluc was going to be reasonable and agree. It’s not like the two of you can just bring back the atmosphere you unintentionally shattered. Best case scenario, you’ll both walk away like nothing happened, and take this secret to the grave.
But when you realize that his eyes are transfixed on your chest – blouse suddenly see-through from the splash – your face heats up several degrees higher.
Gods, who needs dignity anyway?
Surprisingly, he doesn’t resist when you grab him by the collar of his equally wet dress shirt, meeting him in another sloppy kiss. It’s like nothing ever occurred to interrupt the both of you. Diluc snakes a strong arm around your frame, pressing you against his rigid body. When his gloved hand finds its way to your cheek, you nearly whimper.
You’d be an idiot to let a chance like this slip away, right?
“On second thought…” you whisper against his lips – trembling with anticipation under his ravenous gaze.
“You’ve got a spare room back at Angel’s Share, don’t you?”
Slipping past the knights stationed at the north-east gate is a bit difficult when you and Diluc are soaked from head to toe. Even if his coat is draped across your shoulders, it’s not enough to hide the fact that you both definitely took a swim one way or another. It’s a good thing that younger ones who know about Diluc’s history with the Knights are smart enough to pretend they didn’t see as the two of you make your way back to the tavern.
You have to admit, though, Diluc is very…impatient.
The man can’t last ten seconds without trying to feel you up – groping your tits, leaving small hickeys on your neck, and even sneaking a kiss or two. You would’ve laughed at how desperate he’s being with you right now, if only you weren’t as horny and pent-up as he is.
“Down, boy,” you breathe. “We’re almost there.”
Angel’s Share is already closed by the time you finally arrive, which must be at the birthday boy’s behest. Speaking of which, Diluc rummages around the pockets of his coat – the one you’re still wearing – cussing under his breath when he doesn’t immediately find the keys to the back. But when he manages to grant both of you entry, Diluc pulls you inside, shuts the door and slams you against the solid surface.
It shouldn’t feel so fucking good, how rough he’s being with you. Diluc tosses his coat to the side, practically ripping off the buttons of your blouse as he reclaims your lips. With the newfound privacy, you allow yourself to be a bit bolder – inching your thighs apart to accommodate the man in front of you.
“For someone so celibate, you’re pretty pent-up, aren’t you?”
He hums at your words, making you throw your head back with a moan as he massages your breasts. When Diluc laughs, you feel your chest flutter at the sound of it.
“You have no idea.”
The trip to the second floor takes longer than you’d otherwise like. Things would’ve progressed more swiftly if Diluc didn’t keep pressing you against every piece of furniture in the bar – leaving you with less and less clothing as you drew closer to the spare room. By the time you’re standing in front of it, you’re left with nothing but a flimsy bra and your soaked panties – something that Diluc obviously enjoys seeing.
In the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s tried to ravage other women like this in the past. Did he strew their clothes around his own tavern, too? Did he exhibit the same, raw desire that he has for you now?
You decide that it doesn’t matter in the end. After all, today is Diluc’s birthday.
What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t give him a present he won’t forget?
When the bedroom door clicks shut, you’re quick to sink to your knees – taking Diluc by surprise as you fumble around with his belt. The erection straining against his wet trousers makes your mouth water, and despite his protests, you haul out his cock without a word. The length is impressive enough to have you squirming, and just imagining how his thick girth will spread you open makes you even more impatient.
But before that, you’d like to do a little something for him first.
“What are you – nghh!”
Diluc tilts his head back when you take him into your mouth, lathering his length with saliva as you stare up at him the whole time. His face is flushed as he struggles to peel off his gloves, attempting to pull you off his cock, though the effort is weak.
Oh, what a sight to see: Diluc Ragnvindr’s stoic façade, torn asunder by a blowjob.
Though that’s as far as your teasing goes.
The moment you pry your lips off him for a breather, Diluc leans down to hoist you into his arms – an unnecessary display of strength, but one that sends a rush of heat straight to your cunt. He’s pissed. You can tell from the stiff set of his jaw, and how little heed he has for your comfort as he tosses you onto the bed.
You shoot him a scowl as he strips the rest of his clothing. “Hey, I wasn’t –”
“You’re starting to become more and more cocky, aren’t you?” Diluc shakes his head, freeing his damp hair from that flimsy tie as the red tresses fall across his shoulders. “I let you do as you please for a while, and suddenly you think you’re the one who’s calling the shots? Hmph.”
You’ve never heard him talk like this before – like some master chastising a disobedient pet. It doesn’t help that you’re given a generous view of his toned chest, marred with scars you’ll probably never know the stories behind. You want nothing more than to reach out and kiss every single one, but when you try to move, Diluc quickly pins your wrists against the bed – restricting your movement in more ways than one.
You’re stunned into silence as Diluc continues lecturing you. The words, however, are lost in the haze of your own arousal – nerves set alight as he trails his lips down your thigh. He teases you with these fleeting sensations until he’s up close and personal with your clothed cunt, red eyes boring deeply into yours.
“You need to stop provoking me if you don’t want to get burned.”
He allows you a moment of reprieve when he drags the fabric of your underwear off your legs – tossing it somewhere behind him as he marvels at the sight of your bare pussy. You’re wet and waiting for him, just like he wanted.
Diluc doesn’t waste any time, doing a few experimental licks across your slit as he quietly observes you. It fills him with a sick sense of pride when you have adorably sharp reactions each time his tongue makes a pass over your clit – fingers threading through his hair as you bite down a moan.
He laps up your essence like a man starved before easing a finger into the tight ring of your cunt, and you sandwich his head between your thighs as he loosens you up. It’s hard to think about anything else apart from the skillful licks of Diluc’s tongue. When he teases your weeping entrance with the tip of his appendage, you let out an embarrassingly lewd sound.
You hear him chuckle. “See? Isn’t this better?”
When he manages to slide two fingers inside you, he curls the digits just so, making you keen his name as your toes curl with pleasure. Diluc is relentless; not giving you any space to breathe as he eats you out. He’s loosening you up real good, and you can only imagine what’s yet to come when he frays your overstimulated nerves.
That coil in your gut is wound up so tight, you fear like you’ll explode. As your heavy pants fill the room, you give your lover a few telltale signs that you’re close. The grip you have on his hair is more fervent, and you even roll your hips to meet his tongue. You feel like such a vixen, defiling Diluc’s face like this, but from the way he vigorously responds to your desperation, you’re fairly certain he just wants to get you off as much as you do.
Diluc teases the beginnings of your g-spot with each curl of his fingers, and every time he does, your eyes roll to the back of your head. How the fuck did he learn to eat pussy like that?!
But when you’re finally tethered across the edge of climax, he stops.
“Why…?” you half-sob, bemoaning the loss of his heat as Diluc untangles himself from your thighs. He smirks, lips still slick with your juices.
“Open,” he orders before leaning forward, prodding your lips with the fingers he’d buried inside your pussy not five seconds earlier. To his delight, you’re all-too willing to comply, tasting yourself on his skin as you lather your tongue around his thick digits. Diluc meets your wanton reaction with an amused sigh. He’s gotten quite lucky tonight.
“Good girl,” he whispers, and you feel your cunt throb at the praise.
He sinks into the mattress with you when he takes those fingers out of your mouth – replacing them with his lips as he meets you in another fervent kiss. A strong hand rests on the curve of your waist, possessively tugging you close to leave no inch of space between you. Despite the tangy aftertaste on his lips, you welcome him all the same.
When he slides his hard length between your thighs, you don’t even flinch – letting Diluc tease your folds with the head of his cock. With that little edging stint he pulled, you’re very much aching and desperate to have your pussy stuffed to the brim.
“Diluc,” you mewl, sighing against his lips. “Want you…inside.”
He growls, reaching behind you to finally unclasp your bra – the last piece of clothing you had. Diluc practically nuzzles his face into your breasts as he angles his hips, biting down hard once his cock breaches your entrance. A broken moan slips past your lips as you take every inch of him, and you nearly sob once he finally bottoms out.
His forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath, and you nearly lose it from the feel of his dick pulsating inside you. Everything feels so hot, it’s like you’ll melt from his touch alone.
“Not so celibate now, are we?” he says, and you would’ve laughed, if he wasn’t stretching your pussy so goddamn good.
Diluc snaps his hips sharply, catching you off-guard before setting a steadier pace. His dick rubs against the velvet walls of your cunt as he leaves even more marks along the curve of your tits. He even presses one of your legs against your chest to introduce a better angle, and tears quite literally dot your lashes when the head of his cock brushes your cervix.
He’s so big inside you, prying your pussy open with each drag of his length. Even if you want nothing more than to wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer, Diluc is adamant about keeping you in place – both thighs pressed against your breasts as he pounds you into the mattress.
You’ve never had sex that felt as mind-shattering as Diluc’s. You didn’t even know it was possible to be this wet for someone. The lewd squelch of flesh ringing in your ears is a testament to that. Archons, if you knew Diluc could dick you down this good, you would’ve jumped him ages ago.
“Turn around. Hands and knees.”
It’s so pathetic, how you blindly follow him as if you’ve traded in your autonomy to be his cocksleeve. You whimper when you feel Diluc take out his dick, but silently comply with his orders – getting down on all fours on the bed as you stare at him in anticipation.
He breathes out a long-winded sigh, large, warm hands smoothing across the swell of your ass before hiking up your waist, making you shiver with delight.
“Who would’ve known this body can take my dick so well?” Diluc chuckles, and you feel the head of his cock gliding along your slit once more. Obviously, the question is rhetorical, because before you can even slip in some underhanded remark, he’s already slipping himself back into your aching pussy – hitting you in places that have you struggling to prop yourself up.
“D-Diluc, I –” Your words are cut off by a moan as he forces you back down on the mattress – chest pressed against the bed as he continues to mount your ass.
“So good for me,” he praises, fingers wound around the nape of your neck. “You’ve got such a lewd cunt. Did you always want me to claim you like this?”
Of all the discoveries you’ve made tonight, the fact that Diluc is actually capable of talking so filthily might’ve made it on the top of your list. He whispered the words in your ear in such a tantalizing manner, you unintentionally clamp around his length – making him groan as each pass he makes in your cunt suddenly became tighter.
“Yes,” you gasp when he makes a particularly deep thrust. “Yes, yes, please. Diluc, I-I want it.”
Diluc leans closer, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth as he relentlessly moves his hips in time with yours. “What an honest girl. You deserve a little reward, don’t you think?”
Faster than you can blink, Diluc flips you onto your back once again – not giving you any time to breathe as he fills you up again. He wastes no time easing you into a mating press, and you can barely utter out the syllables of his name as he drives his length into you over, and over again. The heat in the pit of your stomach threatens to boil over, along with the goosebumps that erupt across your flesh. Closer, closer – you can almost taste it.
You end up coming with starbursts exploding behind your eyelids, and Diluc muffles the high-pitched keen of his name with a kiss. He rides out your orgasm – despite your spasming walls doing little in helping him keep it together. But when his own climax finally crests, he pulls out just in time, painting your breasts, your stomach, and your thighs with his white-hot release.
He marvels at the sight of you – blissed out with his cum staining your tits. Will the gods ever forgive him if this’ll be the same picture he thinks of during the lonelier nights he has out there?
Unless…
It takes you a while to anchor yourself back to reality and regain the feeling in your legs. You could’ve sworn you’d passed out for a moment, but the feeling of something soft being dabbed across your skin rouses your consciousness even just a bit.
That’s when you realize Diluc is wiping his own emission off your body.
“Can’t have you sleeping all gross like that,” he grumbles as he disposes of the cotton towel he got from gods-know-where in a basket sitting in the corner. “Unless you want me to prepare a bath for you?”
You smile at him sleepily, grabbing his face to give him a long, sweet kiss.
“Happy birthday,” you giggle. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again at all.”
Diluc tenses for a fraction of a second, but it completely goes over your head – still buzzed from the intensity of the orgasm he just gave you. As you tug him under the sheets, he figures that you might be too tired for a bath, and admittedly, he’s a bit drained too.
You get the feeling that Diluc is skirting around a question he wants to ask – red eyes darting with uncharacteristic uncertainty before shying away when you try to meet his gaze. You’re no body language expert, but you know a curious man when you see it.
“Got anything else to say to me?” you ask.
He swallows thickly, a slight redness dusting the high of his cheekbones. Yet another first for you – seeing Diluc Ragnvindr blush like a preteen.
“You were talking about wanting to go on expeditions instead of tending to boring commissions, weren’t you?” he starts, wrapping a muscular arm around your waist. You nod. “How about you come with me? I’m headed to Sumeru in a few days because there’s someone I need to track down.”
Now that definitely wakes you up.
Seeing Diluc become a beast in the bedroom is one thing, but hearing him invite you to travel with him is another story. Sex and companionship are two very different things. You can have sex without completely trusting the person you’re with, but…constant companionship for his travels? He could’ve proposed to you and it would’ve meant the same thing!
That, or you just have such a skewed view of romance that you might be reading his offer wrong.
“I-I’ll think about it,” you tell him instead – not wanting to make the situation awkward because of your own assumptions. “If I’m going with you, then I might have to file a pretty long vacation leave.”
He simpers. “Who said it’s for vacation? I’m commissioning you for your expertise as an adventurer, you know? Don’t sell yourself short.”
Well, now you’re not very sure if you should feel flattered or offended.
“Hey, wise guy, I can so go on adventures without the incentive of a reward.” You scowl. “You think I’m only in the Adventurer’s Guild for the money?”
Diluc nods. “A week ago, you drunkenly proclaimed to the whole bar how much you loved the Guild because of the good pay. Even if your jobs are such a chore, you’ll let them exploit you as they please.”
…Note to self: stop spouting off nonsense when Diluc is there to remember every word.
“So you’re going to exploit me next?” you deflect with your pride all chinked up. It’s just so hard to get the last word with this guy!
“Well –”
Your quarreling is interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door groaning on its hinges. To your horror, the intruder comes in the form of two people. One is Kaeya, who’s drunk out of his wits as he shifts his weight onto his poor companion. Said companion just happens to be Rosaria, who gapes at the sight of you and Diluc both conspicuously naked under the sheets.
Oh, fuck.
Rosaria soundlessly moves her lips for a moment, like she can’t quite find the words until Kaeya mumbles something under his breath and leans against the doorframe.
“Hey, how about you go sleep at my place tonight, big guy?” She pats his shoulder, keen eyes shying away from the spectacle in front of her. “Master Diluc might just castrate you if he finds out you’re crashing in his spare room again.”
Kaeya gives her a sleepy smile. “Oh? Trying to make a move on me, are you?”
“You know I’m allergic to penises, asshole. Come on.”
When she successfully hauls the oblivious cavalry captain out of the room, Rosaria flashes you a knowing smirk – mouthing the words: you owe me one before shutting the door behind her.
Then, the silence.
You don’t know if it’s proper to laugh, when two of your closest friends quite literally walked in on you in the midst of your pillow-talk (pillow-argument?) with Diluc. Even if only one of them was remotely aware of what was going on, that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.
Diluc sighs, carding his fingers through his hair before padding over to the door to put the lock in place. When he returns to your side, he pulls you in a tight embrace that you can’t help but return.
“If you come with me, I promise…” he begins – and the husky undertone his voice takes on makes you shiver, “that the next time I get you mounted on my cock, it’s somewhere we won’t get interrupted by anyone else.”
When he peppers your neck with a trail of fiery kisses, you realize that Diluc Ragnvindr is playing with such unfair stakes. How the hell can you say no to that?
When the vigor in the both of you finally wanes, you doze off next to him in the afterglow. It feels comfortable, resting in the middle of Diluc’s strong embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest is enough to lull you into slumber, and you find it somewhat amusing to know that this all started because of a harmless conversation at the docks.
Ludi Harpastum really is your favorite time of the year, after all.
okay, here, here's a little sneak peek from the planned phai fic to come—i couldn't wait...okay?
maybe not so little.. wc: around 1k
It all happens so fast. You only meant to steal a quick glance at the gold stained windows, just for a second, just like you did all those years ago. But it seems you’re punished for doing so. Because the next thing you know, you collide with someone head-on, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.
As well as knocking your assignment papers from your hands, to the ground—which is soaked from the melting snow.
You hear the man in front of you stumble over his apologies while you struggle to steady yourself, “I am so—so sorry. That was completely my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was—”
The words blur together as you lift your head.
“…Phainon?”
The name slips out before you can stop it.
For a moment, the world seems to tilt again. Though this time it has nothing to do with losing your balance.
His face shifts into one of disbelief first, it’s raw and momentary, before it disappears and an uncertain smile forms on his lips,
“Hi?” Is the only thing that leaves his mouth, soft and tentative. Despite his smile, he sounds in much disbelief himself.
A sharp sting of pain on your temple is the first thing that greets you, sudden and rooted. Then it slowly moves to the back of your eyes, making you blink a few times.
He looks a lot older than you remember. His voice is deeper now, his shoulders broader, his jaw sharper. He definitely didn't tower over you either. If you’d only gotten a glance while passing by, you think, you might’ve not even recognized him. Maybe six years just does that to people—stretches them into versions you don’t recognize at first glance.
“How are you even-” you swallow the heat bubbling in your mouth, “What are you doing here?”
The hostility in your voice doesn’t escape him and yet he tries—poorly—to ease the tension. “Well,” he blinks, “that doesn’t sound like a warm welcome.”
“You’re back?” you ask, memories already sneaking their way into your bones. Biting and clawing at every corner.
The sound of children's laughter echoes in your ears first, sweet and ripe, bubbling in the air like something untouched by worry. Like they haven’t seen a day of unease. You would laugh at the absurdity of it.
Then you get hit with a strong, sugary smell. Something fresh out of the oven, waiting for those tiny, careful steps sneaking into the kitchen in the dead of night. A kid dragging a chair across the floor with all his might, making a sour face at the loud scratch. Another scrambling up after it as she tries to steady herself. You can’t quite recall the flavour, only the small, charming victory of finally stealing a bite of that glazed pie.
But it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
“Yes, it’s only been, what, a week now?” he tilts his head in confusion, his voice bright and clear, “But I think I’m already getting used to things here–”
“You can’t.”
“What?” his face drops, and you hear the genuine hurt coming from him, but you continue, “You can’t just come back, and–and–” you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath.
You are shaking now. You want to believe it is from the low temperatures, or out of fear for failing your class—since the papers are beyond salvaging. But the truth lingers clear in the air. The snow, it seems, isn’t capable of covering that.
“I know how this seems, but give me a chance to–” he trails off for a short second, raises a hand, maybe to you, maybe to hold onto anything else. But it doesn’t quite reach anywhere. Then he takes in a sharp breath, and continues, “To explain, at the very least.”
To explain. To explain?
The absurdity of it is enough in itself to make you laugh.
You believe you are slow to anger. Patient and measured. However, Phainon, it seems, is very capable of pushing you to the limit. He’s been back in your life for all of fifteen minutes—after six years of silence, not so much as a phone call, and somehow he’s already worn through the last of your patience.
You bend down to gather your mush of an assignment, a tsk slipping past your teeth involuntarily. The smudged ink slides downwards in thin rivers as you lift up the sheets, the now soft and fragile corners of the paper dissolving against your fingers.
“Did you think at all before coming here, Phainon?” The name doesn’t slip out as easily this time, now that you’ve come to your senses. Instead, it is accompanied with a shaky breath. You internally wince at the foreignness of it.
“Trust me-”
“Trust you.”
“I have thought about it. I have thought about everything.” He's speaking quickly now. You’re not sure if it’s because his pulse is hammering just as strongly as yours, or because he is scared you’ll cut him off again.
“If we could just sit down and talk—that's all I’m asking for.”
A long beat of silence passes after that. You stare into his eyes for a good ten seconds. He stares back with raw hope and the kind of intensity that only a certain shade of blue can carry. The steady rhythm of water dripping from your hands pulls a weary sigh out of you, “I’m going to fail this class, you know.”
He blinks at that. Guilt settling in his features, sharp and immediate.
“You’re not,” he says quickly. His gaze drops to the ruined papers in your hands, jaw tightening as water continues to drip between your fingers.
Another beat. Then, more carefully—
“I don’t… actually have a submission myself, yet.” He lets out a breath, almost sheepish. “I transferred in late. I was supposed to ask someone about partnering up.”
⋆𐙚 ̊. synopsis : Once inseperable, you and Dan Heng reunite in college as something more complicated: childhood friends turned into strangers. To him, it's just another semester. To you, it's a silent war that you may never win— every grade a battle, every compliment he earns a reminder that you're still chasing validation and your mother's approval. Yet banter turns into late night conversations, rivalry into a blur tenderness you refuse to label. And the more his silent kindness slips past your defenses, the more it hurts to realize: he was never your rival at all— just the boy you can't stop falling for, no matter how hard you try to win against him.
⋆𐙚 ̊. warnings : fem!reader, one-sided academic rivalry, reader CRAVES academic validation, reader has mother issues, may have inaccurate depictions of college, some ooc portrayals, unhealthy coping mechanisms, slowburn-ish?? swearing, some vulgar jokes, self-worth struggles, some angst, awkward conversations, english isn't my first language !!, ALOT of written chapters
⋆𐙚 ̊. genres : college/uni au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, academic rivals to lovers, light rom-com, crack, some angst, family "drama"
⋆𐙚 ̊. status : wip !! daily / weekly updates | taglist : open !! ask/comment to be added
⋆𐙚 ̊. author's note : this is my first smau/fanfic ever !! please comment if there are any grammar mistakes. i've been taking english classes recently so i'm incorporating everything i've learned right now !! additionally i'm 16 so i don't know anything about college experiences, i'm basing this off of experiences from people in college i know so i hope this smau isn't too inaccurate. alot of these chapters will have written parts as well !
(☕) - fully written part | (💻) - some/majority written
featuring : the reverie | the express
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ directory :
ACT O : prologue - picture of us (☕)
ACT 1 : O1. while you were sleeping ୨ৎ O2. take a bite (💻) ୨ৎ O3. forget-me-not(💻) ୨ৎ O4. best friend (💻) ୨ৎ O5. we go out on a tuesday (💻) ୨ৎ O6. dreamscape aftermath ୨ৎ O7. the ones who can't be move (💻) ୨ৎ O7.5. operation reader & dan heng ୨ৎ O8. 'cause i'm getting pretty fucking tired ୨ৎ O9. my lacy ୨ৎ 10. linger (💻) ୨ৎ 10.5. intermission
ACT 2 : 11. familiar faces(💻) ୨ৎ 12. almost 'enough' (💻) ୨ৎ 12.5. a promise in sunlight (☕) ୨ৎ 13. visiting hours (💻) ୨ৎ 14. between words (☕) ୨ৎ 15. ever seen(💻) ୨ৎ 16. front row ୨ৎ 17. thanks, dan heng (💻) ୨ৎ 18. i don't want your sympathy (💻) ୨ৎ 18.5. prelude to a mess ୨ৎ 19. party 4 u(💻) ୨ৎ 20. part of u knew (☕)
ACT 3 : 21. somber n sober (💻) ୨ৎ 22. avoidance (💻) ୨ৎ 23. lovesick (💻) ୨ৎ 24. the only exception (💻) ୨ৎ 25. new faces (☕) ୨ৎ 26. bigmouth strikes again (☕) ୨ৎ 26.5. courtesy of me! ୨ৎ 27. overture ୨ৎ 28. showtime ୨ৎ 29. the moon is beautiful tonight ୨ৎ 29.5. tea time ୨ৎ 30. heaven knows i'm miserable now ୨ৎ 31. lock in ୨ৎ 32. regression ୨ৎ 33. i think it's time to shut away ୨ৎ 34. 'cause i really never felt "okay" ୨ৎ 34.5. highschool in xianzhou ୨ৎ 35. breaking point
helllooo i saw ur req was open and wanted to send my most craving need to read 🥹
I didnt see anything abt poly in yr rules so u can ignore this req completely if you dont want to write it lol
could u possibly write phairene x reader dating hc?
Phairene x Reader dating headcanons!
This screams two bad bitches at the same damn time man😭But really though, I love this request sm!! Partly because I love Phainon and mostly because I feel like Cyrene is so underrated so thank you sm for giving me a chance to write this!
Also just a heads-up, since there's no clear specific details as to what kind of polyamory this is, I can only assume you meant this as in Phainon and Cyrene x Reader since this blog is mostly an x Reader so I apologize in advance!
Wait! How did it come to this in the first place??
Personally, I see Cyrene as the first to confess to you and will probably be the first to bring this subject up. The three of you have always been close, in a sense that physical touch or intimate gestures are always labeled as "normal trio things". Cyrene catches the shift quickly, she has very good understanding and grasp of her emotions and is intelligent enough to tell romance from closed friendship
Phainon on the other hand… Takes a while to come to terms with the fact that he's in love with his you in a less platonic way and more of a I-want-you-so-badly kind of way. However, he's pretty sharp too, he picks up the signs that Cyrene may be feeling the same way for you so he kinds of… retreat? Take a back seat and numb his feelings down so Cyrene can be with you instead.
Cyrene is also very aware of this, so she just confronts him about the matter and well, come up with a solution. She has all three of you sat around a table like it's a inter-city negotiation and gingerly declares that "Since we all have too much love in our hearts, let's just share it with one another!" — That is if you have no problem with it.
Flustered as you are, you eventually admit your feelings for them and agree to try out polyamory— as per Cyrene's suggestion.
So, how is it going?
At first, you and Phainon are very confused about the whole thing, like how does this work? Do you agree on a specific schedule like Mon-Wed-Fri for Phainon and Tue-Thu-Sat for Cyrene? Then what about Sunday? (as in the day of the week and not the chicken guy)
Since you two are callow in this regard, Cyrene has to take the lead very often. She insists that you all just act normally, like how you always do! But with better understanding of your feelings and the romance that comes with it.
Your dates range from late night relaxation together at the Hero's Bath or an excursion around Okhema. Cyrene is very creative so she's in charge of date location, sometimes you three enjoy a romantic dinner at a small restaurant in Okhema, other times you visit the Garden of Life to play with the Chimeras. She's the type to never run out of date ideas, whether indoors or outdoors. She absolutely loves makeup and skincare dates too, especially when the weather isn't favorable for outdoor activities.
Phainon of course also contributes to this by helping in certain ways. By that I mean he makes sure to reserve seats at the restaurant, scour for monsters at the outskirts of Okhema when you go stargazing, carrying all of your and Cyrene's bags if you want to go shopping and he pays, of course. You may be wondering where the hell does this penniless lad even get all the money for this?? Honestly, he doesn't tell you, he just insists you two to let him pay lol. Also a very flexible boyfriend, if you want the more fun, barn-storming dates like a spar (yes that's his idea of a date) or a spar but at the bath house or maybe a spar at communicating with Dromases— He's up for it! And he's not against letting you and Cyrene put face masks and makeup on him or messing with his hair.
Phainon and Cyrene are both very big on physical touch so you can always expect both of your hands to be held tight and warm. Cuddling is also a favorite activity too (not so much for you during the hotter seasons of Amphoreus). Envision being sandwiched between these two, Cyrene likes to place her arm across your chest, letting her breaths fan near your cheeks while Phainon typically puts his arm across your stomach, chin over your head. The heat radiating off them makes the cold air of the night less icy and lonely but also makes your life pretty miserable when summer comes.
If you insist on not cuddling during hot days, they'll pout and try to change your mind. Cyrene often just tell you straight up that "I can't find any joy in a night without your warmth!" or "How can this lonely maiden find any comfort in her slumber if not by your side?"
Phainon would take another route by telling you "My insomnia turns restless without you by my side.". Yes go we love our emotionally manipulative king (only for small trivial things)
They will quit right away if you threaten to sleep on the couch though ( they know well there's no way to squeeze all three on it) In the end, you choose to still sleep together with them on the bed, but each of them has to stay at least 20 cm from you to ensure sufficient breathing ground.
But you still wake up with their limbs tangled in yours and sweat dripping down your entire body. So it's basically like sleeping with an overly clingy Samoyed and an affectionate gorgeous pink ragdoll.
Being in a polyamory with Cyrene and Phainon also means receiving a lot of love, in many different ways. Phainon is always willing to help you with whatever you need, acts of service is just his middle name, his love makes your life a lot easier in ways that seem mundane and domestic.
You never have to worry about losing things, he always remembers where you last put it! And he puts a lot of effort into remembering things you say fleetingly. You like this specific dish? Now he's got a bachelor degree in it and is ready to make you an infinite amount of serving. You find the plot of this game fascinating? Okay, he's also disgustingly educated about the topic, so let's chat for hours! The button of your favorite pajamas fall off? No worries, Phainon has it covered!
Phainon's love is one that manifests in his intensity to protect you but also in the normalcy of life. The want and need to build a home together and to be there for you, with you not just as the Deliverer but also Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
Cyrene, on the other hand, is one that never spares a word when it comes to complimenting you. Doesn't even have to be about appearance, it can be just about anything! That's precisely the person she is, one to find beauty in every corner of the world and every glimpse at you—her lover.
You just learn a new recipe? "My love, this is amazing! Ahhh, I can't believe I get to enjoy your cooking almost every day♡", you draw a Chimera doodle "Ahh! ꨄ ︎So adorable! Should we make our Chimerasonas together?", you have a new pajama "This color looks so pretty on you❤︎ ! Should we get matching ones? A pink for me and a blue for Phainon!"(The heart emojis automatically appear, she just does it).
Her love for you manifests itself in her words, thought, spoken and written. She finds you in every beauties of the world, every words she writes, every song she hears and every poem she makes— the true "to be loved by a writer" experience. Cyrene strives to make a lot of unforgettable memories with you, enjoy every second with you by her side— her love is both passionate and deep, loud and silent, beautiful and tragic.
Both Phainon and Cyrene rarely ever have any qualms about your relationship. Due to their duties as the Chrysos Heirs, they learn to cherish every moment with you for they know well what will become of themselves once it's their turn to fulfill the prophecies. Before that day comes, they try to make the best out of time, they leave you with memories and love in the forms of gifts, letters, poems, memorabilia,… anything that will make their existence last as long as possible so after the Era Nova, all of you can be reunited.
"Since we all have too much love in our hearts"
Loving the prophesied heroes of Amphoreus is no easy task. There's nothing that hurts more than watching the love of your life burning themselves away for this world.
As you can already guess, this romance is one that is as ephemeral as it is beautiful. During the first cycle of Amphoreus, both Phainon and Cyrene watch as the world crumbles and vanish. They have to watch as Okhema falls to pieces as flashes of black and red consumes everything, as well as their lover.
So they set out on a long, long quest to save Amphoreus and the universe. For they have too much love in their hearts, they love Aedes Elysiae, love Amphoreus, love the foreign universe they've never reacher and so too, they love you.
Eternal Recurrence #4,000,001
48 million Coreflames. They surged through his entire body like raging flames, consuming his mortal flesh until all that was left was no more than wreckage and ruins.
The constellations at the Vortex of Genesis shone down an empty vessel, its shell cracked and broken, revealing an abysmal void into the darkness. The flames of destruction demanded everything from him— and the derelict body of his was no longer tempting.
He turned to the one thing he could do, trying to find his wayback to you and Cyrene, somewhere within those 4,000,001 cycles back to the first one— No not the Eternal Recurrence #1, but the first, the beginning where it all started.
In the vastness of memories he had harbored across his quest, he tried to look for the nights you all spent stargazing in the outskirts of Okhema, the stolen late nights at the Hero's Bath, the warm meals by the candlelight you three used to share. The fragmented dreams of a distant past that was beginning to seem like a fever dream, a result of wishful thinking, a delusion of a lost man.
They were as beautiful as the flicker of flame in this dark, cruel world. The memories burn bright, passionate and fast, flickering wildly as if it had been a candle amidst a storm. Your form slowly came through from the tiny spark of the flame, fluttering erratically until the fire gave in to the winds and all that was to remember you by was no more than a handful of ashes. Because, between him and Cyrene, there lay a black blot.
The thing he feared most had finally happened.
Eternal Recurrence #801, he couldn't recall the color of your cheeks when you blush
Eternal Recurrence #2,234, he couldn't remember where your mole used to be.
Eternal Recurrence #4,024, he couldn't trace the bridge of your nose.
Eternal Recurrence #5, 930, he couldn't remember the shape of your lips.
Eternal Recurrence #7, 283, he couldn't remember the shade of your lips.
Eternal Recurrence #112,923, he couldn't measure the length of your hair.
Eternal Recurrence #824, 929, he couldn't remember the color of your hair.
Eternal Recurrence #1,023,943, he couldn't recognize your voice.
Eternal Recurrence #1,923,889, he couldn't recall how your skin felt.
Eternal Recurrence #2,023,657, he couldn't remember the shape of your brows.
Eternal Recurrence #3,234,928, he couldn't remember the shape of your eyes.
Eternal Recurrence #3,982,999, he couldn't remember the color of your eyes.
Eternal Recurrence #4,000,001, he couldn't remember your face.
As this vessel had entered its final stage of withering, there would be no use in keeping it anymore, especially when your face had completely vanished from its memories. Khaslana had thought this through carefully.
All the Phainons of the next cycle will make the same choice— he was sure of it. But he, might be the last to carry the burnt, torched picture of your smile. He wondered if Phainon would meet you again in the next cycle, would fate allow him to find his ways to you unknowingly? Or make him be just another passing face in your life?
Well that no longer mattered, this vessel was completely incapable of love…
So now, let wrath incinerate fate!
One will remain in the past,
One will walk toward the future.
The sounds of her heels clicking against space is both silent deafening. Even though she knows where this path would lead her, her pace and smile doesn't falter. She's aware of her choice, continuing on this path would mean she can no longer strive for the stars, can't witness the birth of Amphoreus and can't fulfill her promise of reunion with you and Phainon.
The vast space earlier has now vanished, no more distant stars nor galaxies, the beautiful painting of the cosmos has all but faded into a shade of white. She holds her conviction firm in her heart, for she knows Peach would make the same choice.
"Love? How should I explain it… It's something that can be amorphous or physical, it can be anyone and anything."
"Me? I love a lot of people and things. Let's see… I love Aedes Elysiae, the little fairies, the color pink, the Flame-Chase, my friends, the wheat field, Amphoreus, humanity and … I love—"
Undefined Record #XXX, Archived.
Her love is abundant, so much so that it exceeds the digital constrains of Amphoreus and out to the universe. Cyrene wishes she can too, love like that.
Even as of now, as she has taken the steps towards the empty pages of future, Cyrene still has troubles letting go of some things.
What is it like to love and to be loved?
Cyrene can still remember you clearly, Peach once told her you were a dear person to her. Your love makes the dark corners of the streets seem brighter than ever, your smile turns the lonely, far-away stars on the night sky closer and warmer, your touch soothes the coldness of morning away from her palms, your gaze fills this world with a pink tint that she so dearly adores.
Cyrene walks towards the void, the white page of her future will become the colorful future for the rest of the universe, as well as yours.
Your laughter reminds Peach of the lovely wind chimes in Aedes Elysiae, your voice bears the familiar lilt of her childhood folk lullabies, your gait carries the elegance of the soft, delicate silk in the weaving competition in her hometown.
Cyrene finds herself back at Aedes Elysiae, near the old tree that Peach used to love. Leaves scuffle along the gentle winds as she walks by. Under the same old spot Peach used to love, Cyrene sits down.
Peach said she wanted to show you around Aedes Elysiae with Phainon, tell you of the beautiful starry night that reigns across the sky, weave a flower crown for you as you three would run across the field with hearts full of adoration and not hatred nor destruction.
Under the crown of the trees, Cyrene's body shrinks. Her long, pink hair reduced to shoulder-length, rosy bright eyes turned into a clear shade of blues, her pristine white attire transformed back to that of an ordinary Aedes ELysiae's girl.
Peach would have loved to travel across Amphoreus with you, enjoy the long panoramic view while riding a Dromas together, traverse through the snow-capped hills of Aidonia, witness Phainon fights at the fiery festivals of the Kremnoans, show you around the ethereal Januspolosis where she would be studying as a Time Priestess.
An alluring sense of slumber slowly takes over Cyrene's mind. Perhaps it is as Peach has said, afternoons at Aedes Elysiae are bound to make one's eyes droop, the tranquility, the wind chimes, the distant sounds of the waves…
She closes her eyes and let the memories flood her mind one last time…
Irontomb… Amphoreus…. The Flame-Chase… The Chrysos Heirs… Trailblazer… Phainon
And you.
It is nice to finally get a glimpse of you, your smile is just as Peach has described…
I wonder what it feels like to be loved by you too?
You shall fade when the flowers bloom, for every ending begets a beginning.
'Going Bald' tops list of university students' greatest fears
Phainon x Reader - Uni Au
Its normal to lose hair during university, look at any man in engineering. What isn't normal is when your boyfriend is losing hair and the fact that he's been getting less sleep than the average engineering student. So will he just be normal and let you take care of him for once?
//i finished my exams then proceeded to flop and die so there was that, ngl feel like i might have overestimated the amount of chapters this thing might have
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For someone who really, really, really likes dogs, you don't know how you could have forgotten that some dogs shed.
Which in your defence, your two idiots aren't exactly the biggest or sheddy.
Though you're more than a little confused that Snowy has been shedding like crazy when its literally the ass crack of winter now. Or as wintry as this country would let itself be.
Staring at the layer of white fur on your discarded pants, you carefully pluck it off and roll it into a ball in your hands. Without thinking, that small ball of fur is now inexplicably pressed against your cheek, and even when detached from its owner, its more than clear to you how soft it is. Maybe the stray thought of spinning it into a fibre pops into your mind, but Snowy's shedding only highlights your own.
Yeah, your own shedding. Because like every person on the planet right now, your shower drain is more than just clogged with hair, its infested with it.
Still, its not like you can do much against it, stress is a deadly mistress with little recourse after all.
A text appearing on your phone pulls you out of your hair loss lamenting, and without needing to check who it is, you very gently place the ball of fur aside and grab your lanyard. Haphazardly throwing on a jacket and slipping on slippers, the dim lights of the slightly musty hallway guiding your way to the fire escape.
The steps are still a little uneven and that spider in the corner has somehow yet to die, the winter wind is still wicking away every bit of moisture from your face and the floors are sopping wet. Careful to not absolutely eat shit and die, you slowly make your way to the sheltered porch of the dormitory.
Your finger taps at the screen, the clear background of Snowy smiling at you decorated with a banner at the very bottom lights up your vision.
[Phainon] :My lecture just ended!!!
Alongside that, he's sent a little sticker of a cute creature (why is it shaped like that???) surrounded by confetti. Phainon's recently discovered a whole set of these stickers and now he's been spamming them non-stop ever since. Honestly? Its kind of cute, you just really want to figure what those creatures are.
Considering where the physics building is and your boyfriend's walking pace, if you look up in just about now, in the distance of dead tired students, that familiar face emerges. His eyes search ahead, sweeping past leaving groups and returning stragglers, before they eventually land on you. In an instant, the difference is obvious, the way the corners crinkle together, the way that stupid tuft of hair seemingly makes a heart in the wind.
You, seemingly just as endowed with the same enthusiasm, ignore the very fact that you kind of look like a mess and approach him.
That bright smile tugs at his lips, and in a too natural swipe of his hand, you find your hands now interlocked. "Woah, your hands are cold!"
"Are they?" You hum, squeezing your joined hands. Then, your mouth just blurts, "My feet are cold too."
He blinks, you blink. He stares at your slipper-adorned feet, you stare at your slipper-adorned feet.
Bumping your head with his, Phainon only lets out a breath of amusement, "You gotta start wearing your socks when you come down."
"Lazy," You huff, resolutely bringing him back to the elevator to your rooms as you do so.
He follows along obediently, letting you drag him by the hand as if on a leash. "Besides, I'm just going to take them out later so what's the point?"
"Didn't you complain about your kitchen tiles being too cold?"
"I'm building my tolerance."
Pushing past your door and flinging your shoes back to their original position, he does the same albeit with a lot more grace than you. You're about to start shrugging off your jacket when you notice a very noticeable white strand clinging to the dark fabric. When you pluck it off and hold it up to your boyfriend, you realise it's the same length as his hair. From the corner of your eyes, you now notice another strand on your sleeve.
"Hmm? Is there a leaf on me?" He tilts his head, eyes large as he waits for your response.
"You're shedding."
Clearly that isn't one that bears much substance, since he goes from a simple floppy-eared tilt to rapid blinking. The man in front of you takes the hair clasped between your fingers into his own, staring at it as if it were some foreign material.
Your seemingly perfect boyfriend is losing hair too. Your seemingly perfect boyfriend who is at a risk of male pattern balding is losing his hair at the ripe phase of university.
What if he goes bald when he reaches his mid-twenties? You can't be with a bald guy, you'll just think of your own impending baldness! But he can't get a toupee either! What if the wind blows it away?
"Are you okay? Did something happen today?" Phainon is suddenly much closer than you remember him being when you return back to reality.
Taking his hand into yours, you return his gaze with one of your own, one much more serious than you have ever given in your life. With a deep breath, you ask, "Have you been pulling all-nighters recently? Have you been eating well?"
"Uh, occasionally? And yeah..? I've been getting my three meals." He looks away to think, his features twisting into that cute scrunch (imagining him doing the same when he's bald no longer makes it as cute). Clearly sensing something off, his voice takes on a softer tone, "Is there something I should be worried about? I promise I've been getting enough sleep when I'm not and I've been eating my vegetables and grains."
That luscious head of hair, you must preserve it even if its at the cost of your own.
Just as serious, you continue, "This is the one and only time you will hear me say the L word."
"But I love you too much, you cannot go bald."
"I don't know whether I should be worried that the only time you would ever say 'I love you' is when you're afraid I'm balding—" Okay maybe he isn't taking this as seriously as you are, since his cheeks are practically bursting with his laughter despite his best attempts. "—but—"
Before he can even finish his sentence, mirth spills from his lips as that sweet sound fills your ears once more. Its the kind that has him practically shaking as he hunches into your presence, air coming to him in spurts rather than a flow. You would be offended if it weren't for the fact that even you find your own attachment to his hair a little silly, and yes you can admit that— you're emotionally constipated not stupid.
"—I-oh—" He's still laughing, maybe even evolved to wheezing at this point, all but collapsing into you with how hard he's laughing. In fact, his knees weaken for just a moment, and as if the heavens have smiled upon you for once in your life, you somehow harness the strength of all your ancestors (who probably were malnourished farmers let's not kid ourselves) and hold up your still dying partner.
"I'm serious here."
Your face scrunches up into an attempt at seriousness, bordering on pouting. It's only when you pat his back a few times that he finally manages to gather his wits. Still, it was through a very long and laughter-stifling moment where he kept trying to say something only to burst out giggling again.
"I know its stupid but I'm worried," Sighing, you avert your gaze, eyes focused on the random blotch of colour on the nasty carpet. "And you're probably going to think I'm shallow or something."
"But it always starts as hair loss before it get worse."
Gently, Phainon guides your focus back to him, and within those sky blue eyes not a hint of ridicule tinges that clear expanse. There's a barely noticeable flush on his cheeks, whether from the earlier cold or emotion you don't know, and as he speaks, his voice softens, "I don't think its stupid, and you're not shallow for worrying about me."
"I'll be fine, its just stress and isn't this pretty normal for us?" The blush on his cheeks spreads to the tips of his ears the moment he says 'us'.
Your features scrunch together, brain caught between pushing and accepting the response. Yeah you won't lie and say you haven't been shedding enough to stuff a whole pillow, but….
With a heavy heart and a heavier chest, you sigh,"Okay."
Still, mummy and daddy raised a stubborn idiot, so if he thinks he's going to get out of this, he better think again.
"I'm going to start cooking dinner, okay? You must be tired from your classes." The moment those words leave your lips, and despite your warning look, he immediately straightens up.
"Oh, no no! I'm fine, let me help you."
You stare at him, maybe the expression on your face a bit too severe for something this mundane. He takes a step forward, you move in front of him. He shifts to the right, you shift alongside him. Any move he makes, you match it. This odd game of eagle catching chicks only highlighted by the screech of your bare feet against the tiles and his now lowered stance, must look ridiculous to anyone else.
"Hey, what did I say last time when I invited you for dinner?" Your brow raises, and on instinct, your arm moves to block him from stepping back onto the kitchen tiles.
In a sudden movement, he gets behind you towards the kitchen, completely ignoring your insistence to keep him out and away from tiring himself anymore. Thankfully, you whip your head back to instead find him grabbing a set of plates from your drawers.
For the first time ever in all your time knowing him, an almost smug look decorates his face, as if he knows what he just did.
With a self-satisfied huff, he hums, "Cooking together isn't romantic, get the fuck out of my way."
You feel like you heard a little bit of sass, but you're not really in the mood to pick apart your boyfriend's teasing right now. All you can do is throw in the towel and accept what you can get. "Go sit down unless you want to go downstairs and eat today's ''ragu."
The thought of the dining hall's idea of 'ragu' is enough to get him to obey, an image of mysterious brown-red mush and meagre portions likely flashing through his mind based on the brief moment if blankness that crosses his face.
Phainon only nods, a hint of pathetic disappointment tinges the corners of his eyes as a last ditch attempt to get you to change your mind. Still, you're strong, or at least stubborn enough to resist the pathetically wet puppy dog eyes being beamed your way. Hell, even while you're waiting for the water to boil you can feel them sporadically on your back. You're better than this, you swear, you won't be tempted by those wide watery eyes.
Still, the sound of occasional typing and paper being flipped calms your nerves. Even the calculator button noises isn't triggering those unpleasant memories of doing your statistics workshop questions.
In the midst of one of these 'moments', while you're being assaulted by steam and the sweat that's mysteriously collating on your body is starting to annoy you, you suddenly realise something.
"Can you.. stay after dinner?" Your thin face is threatening to break, and now you aren't sure whether the heat on your face is from the steam or your embarrassment. You think if you turned back to look at him, your face would be red enough to be classified as a medical emergency. As if suddenly aware of the ridiculousness of the situation, your voice drops to nothing more than a whisper, your mouth blurting out the least questionable excuse it can conjure, "I want to go through my readings but I don't want to do it alone."
You think your ears must be malfunctioning, for in the brief silence that follows your request, you think, keyword think, that you heard him take a sharp breath in. Well, you're not going to look back anyways, you've embarrassed yourself enough for the next 50 years.
After what feels like an eternity of boiling water and silence, he finally manages to croak, "Yeah, I don't mind." His voice goes dangerously high on the first bit, then cracks in the middle.
Actually that was kinda cute. You should've turned back, you should've turned back!
Dinner is made with little to no fuss after that, unless you count the multiple cusses of differing causes made under your breath. And you realise in your refusal to turn around, you hadn't managed to notice the glaring fact that Phainon is on your floor again! Why is this man always on the floor?! Does he want you to step on him again?
Holding the two plates of food, you very much keep them out of reaching distance as your brows furrow together in clear confusion. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"
He blinks up at you, almost guiltily so, almost as if he was a dog caught with the canary between its teeth. His hand moves to cover the back of his neck and with a sheepish smile.
"Ah, I didn't want to move your stuff."
As if your stuff is particularly sacred (it is, the last time someone moved your stuff to the side you ended up staring at your desk in a dead haze).
Seeing this, you do the only thing you can think of.
Immediately, Phainon turns to stare at you instead. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"
"Floor's comfy, and you're here," You shrug, handing him his plate with alongside the fork he had also previously fished out from your drawers.
He only really starts eating after he watches you take a few bites, and for someone who's already been enjoying the product of your hard work (and familial duty) for quite a bit, he enjoys it like its his first time. Granted, it feels like no matter what you do, his mouth is already spilling with praise.
Soon, the plague of dirty dishes that needs to be washed falls upon the both of you and after ten tons of silent pleading, you can't help but to just let him help wash up. Can you really blame you, dear observer? Of course not, you try being subjected with those wide blue eyes and almost pouting face!
Phainon doesn't know this, but you're pretty sure he's lying to you every time he says he's fine. Most of the assignment heavy units have started pumping out their thirty million reports and essays, and believe it or not you actually do know more things beyond your business units sphere. That foundational accounting unit would be his only solace compared to the three other engineering units he needs to take for his course, all of which sends your brain spinning just thinking about the work load.
Plus, and you don't think you'll ever tell him this, but sometimes you can hear him still going at his assignments when you randomly wake up at 4 in the morning.
Looking over, you find him leaning against your shoulder, hands still on his keyboard but mind clearly no longer awake enough to continue the ideas once flowing through them.
With a clear stretch, you save his work and turn off his computer, consciously making sure you aren't jostling him in any manner. Carefully bringing his head to your lap, you card through the soft locks of hair. Soft breaths of slumber graze along your shirt, the tip of his nose presses against your stomach and under your gentle touch, your boyfriend nuzzles further into your presence.
He must have been dead tired if he's this touchy. Yet, despite all your possible hesitations over physical contact, this almost dog-like act dispels all of them.
The weight almost wants to lull you to sleep alongside him, you don't. Instead, you take your chance to finally admire the miracle that is your neighbour, your boyfriend. Its still unbelievable to you, that someone as amazing as him could possibly like you, let alone want to be with you.
Soft freckles that dot along his face like constellations, a tiny nick along his jaw, his lashes longer at the corners, the wrinkled lines of his bottom lip, the bags beneath his eyes. Details that barely anyone else would be able to know, details that feels too much for you to know.
But he's let you, for some reason, he decided that you should know about his affection for T******e, about the logic behind his wardrobe's colour pallette. And the feeling of someone letting you in like that is terrifying, yet beyond that, this inexplicable trust fills you with heart ache.
How could he act so nonchalantly without realising that seeing him push himself to his brink over and over again would only make you worry more?
Caressing his face with no hint of your earlier fear, all you can do is sigh and tuck away the sorrow in your chest.
As you adjust your hair, a few strands fall onto Phainon's head. Hidden amongst the snowy canvas, it almost appears as if they're apart of him, a part of you forever accompanying him. That would be nice, at least then you could be with him forever, experiencing the sorrows and joys of life together.
You aren't that hopeful though, for now you can merely hope that one day, someday he'll let you care for him as much as he has for you. Even if you must go about it in some roundabout way.
An absentminded prayer for his campus crush to notice him gives Phainon the unfortunate ability to turn into a dog, which sounds pretty useless until he catches you gazing longingly at a passing labrador.
//i think there is something so wrong with him and i wanna squeeze him like those toys and keep him in my ribs
Breaking - University student so down horrible divine intervention is needed
In the middle of the night and desperation, Phainon prays to any god that will take his plea to help him get closer to his neighbour and crush.
Report - University student so touch starved that petting passing dog causes tears
If you had a penny for every time you cried while petting a fluffy white dog in a foreign country, you would have two pennies which isn't a lot but is a little sad it happened twice.
Area student discovers fate worse than death, attractive man paying attention to them
Your first society event, and it just so happens that you accidentally sit on the foot of an attractive stranger while competing in a spelling bee, can it get any worse? (yes it can)
Area student overdresses for photography competition, immediately regrets it
Though you may not have the best eye for lighting and angles, at least you know how to dress, though you didn't realise that would mean literally being swept off your feet.
Scientists baffled by local student's incredible lack of personal safety or awareness
Your next-door neighbour suddenly knocking on your door for help with his assignment is a new request, and maybe you shouldn't have just gone into the room of an unfamiliar man so easily.
Local student saddled with drunken realisation that nextdoor neighbour is ridiculously attractive
A few too many glasses of wine and ten million lost card games later, seeing Phainon up close has you reconsidering some things
WU student's mental chicken now global master of psychological warfare
The last time you found a man attractive, you fumbled the bag so hard you swore men off for life, this time you won't let history repeat itself (by not talking to him).
Report - Emotionally constipated student's mental chicken tamed by farmer
As the resident loser, nice things just falling into your lap is hard to come by, nice people confessing their love less so.
Wet shoes lead to area student meeting parents of love of life
What kind of idiot gets sick because of wet shoes? That's right, you. If only there was a beautiful man here to nurse you back to health, and also to embarrass yourself in front of.
'Going Bald' tops list of university students' greatest fears
Its normal to lose hair during university, look at any man in engineering. What isn't normal is when your boyfriend is losing hair and the fact that he's been getting less sleep than the average engineering student. So will he just be normal and let you take care of him for once?
Maybe it's a little weird, but Phainon is sure he's been in love with you ever since you walked him to the business campus all those months ago.
'Make him bald' Offshore friend demands WU student to shave campus dog
Phainon has to face exactly one hurdle that blocks his ongoing journey to win the hearts of those you love, and it just so happens to be someone he can't see.
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Just a week before the start of study break, another event springs up and you invite Phainon to join, you don't know whether you should regret that decision now (spoiler alert, you don't).
Student counsellors hate this simple trick, you won't believe what it is!
With seven final exams between you both and at least two mental breakdowns, getting through finals season might be a little easier when you have someone at your corner and a little alcohol.
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With winter break looming above your heads, the question now comes, is long distance going to break what you both tentatively built?
-> in which snowy, phainon's beloved samoyed, plays matchmaker for a day. ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) a letter from zoey — my first fic in a really long time :') i hope u all enjoy reading it as i enjoyed writing it! i had this idea for a good while (around sept) but i only got around to writing it now hehehe. @millurie come get ur food /j
♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) contains — 1083 wc / phainon x reader / fluff / slight blood & injury mentioned but isn't explicitly written ^^
you've never been a huge dog person.
not to say that you don't like dogs at all, of course! it's just that you've never seen yourself as a potential dog owner. after all, you're content with your life as is — just you, your own little apartment, and a comfortable salary to keep yourself afloat.
…with that being said, you also weren't expecting to have your next-door neighbor's dog jump on you while you were on your way home after picking up some food for lunch. it's massive, probably half your size, yet it's… not scary at all, actually. it's soft, pale fur makes it look more like a moving, barking cloud. a cute one at that.
snowy, you think. that's his name. he looks just like his owner.
you don't talk to phainon often, but he is a pleasant neighbor to have. for one, he's a responsible pet owner — except for today, for some reason — and he always lends you any ingredients you might be missing in your kitchen while cooking.
he's also very attractive, but that's besides the point. he probably has a significant other already. he's too charming not to.
…but is it wrong of you to wish that he was still single and that you had a chance with him?
snowy brings you back to reality with a bark, rubbing his fluffy little head against your sweater. sure, you'd have to clean the fur off of it, but snowy is a sweet little samoyed who seems to like you. it's hard to get mad at him.
"where's your owner, mister snowy?" you ask, giving snowy a silly nickname before carefully standing up and looking around, noticing that a leash and harness is still wrapped around the dog's body. seems like it's a simple case of snowy running off while phainon was walking him.
so, being the responsible neighbor that you are, you pick up the leash from the ground, gently pulling snowy, who is surprisingly very cooperative to the point that you almost can't believe that he would run away from his owner, to the direction you want to go to. from your past observations, phainon and snowy always walk along the same route, so the white-haired man should be around here somewhere.
maybe. hopefully.
"we'll find your owner, okay? don't worry about it." you attempt to comfort the white-colored dog, who honestly looks like he couldn't care less about phainon's current whereabouts.
you keep one hand wrapped around the paper bag that contained your lunch — which probably moved around a lot, judging by the lack of anything spilling out of it — with snowy's leash on the other, keeping an eye out for your dear neighbor.
which didn't take that long. after a good 10 or so minutes of walking and taking a closer look at anyone with white hair that didn't look elderly, snowy seemed to have spotted his owner and dashed towards him.
…and also caused you to topple over and actually spill your food. perhaps you spoke too soon.
for a moment, you think the fall was actually so bad that you died, since the first thing you saw was a very handsome man hovering over you and calling your name in a bit of a frantic panic, but eventually, you came to your senses and realized that, one, you are not dead, and two, your neighbor is the one asking if you're alright.
…dear kephale, he's somehow even more handsome up close. you can't tell if that's a blessing or a curse.
phainon's voice manages to break you out of that dazed state, as well as him gently shaking you back and forth, "[name], are you alright?"
"y—yeah, no, i'm alright…" you barely cough out, looking down and noticing the small red stain on his handkerchief. you can only assume that, since you fell, there would be a tiny bit of blood involved. at least it's not a concussion. "…not the first time that happened today."
your eyes look over at the very person — or, dog? — that's to blame for this, who… actually looks pretty damn cute. and guilty. those puppy dog eyes will work on just about anyone, you conclude.
and then you notice it.
your food bag.
…honestly, should've known that wouldn't have lasted. still disappointing, though.
"i'm really sorry about snowy," phainon starts, giving you a look that's basically identical to how snowy looks right now. you wouldn't even be surprised if snowy had some parts of his DNA at this point. "i should've looked after him more carefully. you hit your head a bit there…" he continues, pointing to a certain spot on your forehead
you put a finger on your forehead, realizing there's already a small bandaid on it. honestly, you're surprised that your neighbor just has these lying around. makes you wonder if this is a regular occurrence, or if he just likes to be prepared.
"i'm expecting some compensation," you start, mainly talking about your order that's now scattered all over the sidewalk. though, really, you don't mean anything crazy, like a billion bucks for damages.
snowy barks, as if trying to catch your attention, as well as phainon's. you've never been a dog whisperer, but you feel like the samoyed might be telling you something.
and, as ridiculous as it sounds, you listen to your gut feeling.
"maybe… by taking me out for lunch?"
the moment the words leave your lips, you already want to shrink into yourself. the only conversations the both of you have shared were greeting each other good morning when you pass by each other before heading to work, asking him if he has any salt or sugar when you run out, and some small talk when you bump into each other at the elevator. you've already mentally prepared yourself for rejection of any kind at this point.
and yet, it somehow works.
"oh. oh, of course! it's only right, isn't it? i'd love to." phainon actually smiles, effortlessly picking you up from the ground and onto your two feet. honestly? if you didn't have a little crush on him before, you definitely have one now. "anywhere you want! it's my treat."
your eyes dart back down at the dog standing beside him, who is currently wagging his tail at the two of you. whether or not he knows something, you'll honestly never really know. though, one thing is for sure — snowy is definitely going to get a few treats from you later.
(not proofread. mostly word vomit. very sucky attempt at fingering writing)
18+
warnings: rather soft, fingering, vaginal blood, CRAMPS, little prep? Not in a bad way though I think? He doesn't force it. mentions blindfolding but never happens
Thinking of you having severly bad cramps (Me rn-). Something seems to be truly wrong this time though. the cramps are so much worse than usual, and so is the bleeding. You don't know what you did, but it must have pissed off some sort of god or something. The oddest part is it's not the time it usually starts.
You're curled up tightly, sitting up on the couch. Probably not the best idea with how heavy your flow is currently, but you'd rather it bleed onto that than the bed if it leaks through. Already has once, but got caught by the towel you made sure to grab before sitting down too.
Pain killers aren't helping. The heating pad isn't helping. Nothing else is helping.
You're glad Phainon isn't home right now. He's sweet. Maybe overly so, but this time you're not sure if he can help. The only thing than can be done is to wait it out.
Another sharp, debilitating cramp stabs through like barbed wire was shoved, twisted, and shaken around. You move ever so slightly to try to alleviate it and feel another gush come through.
A pained grunt escapes against your will.
"...Babe?" A familiar voice calls from the other room. You must have been in too much pain to hear Phainon came home.
"Living room." You managed to call out.
The sound of his feet quickly patter into the living room, where he stops and takes in what's going on. "So soon? Why didn't you call me? I would have come home sooner."
That's what you're afraid of. It's so nice he's there to fetch every beck and call, but he's still his own person too. Makes you feel bad after a point. Or maybe it's the hormones.
Another sharp pang slices through, making you clench the heating pad over your stomach tighter.
Phainon picks up on it, worry growing more and more prominent. It looks like he's torn for a good moment in what to ask. "Have... you don everything to try to make it better already? If not, I can go get it-"
"No, I already have. There's-" another pang, one that forces through like a person trying to ram someone in their road rage. "-nothing else that I can do."
Phainon nods off in thought for a second, before his face glows, thinking of a brilliant idea. "Even... personal time, if you get what I mean?"
You blink at him. "Why would I try that when I'm bleeding more heavily than a dromas with a nosebleedl??" (like to think it's like a horse's nosebleed. they're insane.)
His eyes widen in shock. "It's that bad?"
You get a severe urge to smack him for the question. Of course you wont though. stupid hormones.
"Do I usually sit with a towel under me??" you nearly snap.
His eyes soften, not taking your snappy attitude seriously as he steps closer. He gets right up to you, and cups your face, giving you a gentle, chaste kiss on the lips. "No, you don't. But could I help you then? Please? I remember hearing how pleasure is supposed to help. At least for a while."
"Phai- no. It will be too messy!" It does sound enticing though with how severe they're being right now.
"And? Nothing a few extra towels couldn't solve. I don't even need to be that involved for now. My fingers could do enough if you're comfortable with it."
Yet another stab, as if angry you dare even think of getting rid of them. "fine. yes. But maybe not on the couch?"
He gives you a soft smile. "Way ahead of you. I'll come carry you to the bed in a second."
He leaves the room, and you hear opening and closing of cabinets.
A few minutes later he comes back and lifts you bridal style easily, carrying you to the bedroom.
There's several towels stacked over a fairly large area.
Phainon gently lays you on top of them, and goes to take off your lower garments. He pauses when he notices it's absolutely soaked in blood.
"Should we message Hyacine? This seems... weird."
Your face heats up in humiliation, even if it's just Phainon. Just the mere thought of asking someone about it makes you feel like digging a hole and dying in it. "Let's wait on it."
He gives another smile, gently rubbing your thigh as he leans a bit more over. He then scoots onto the bed, getting comfortable in a spot he couldn't care less if your blood got on him or not.
You try to look down at the bloody mess you can already feel starting to form.
He doesn't let you, putting a hand under your chin to look in his gorgeous eyes instead. "No, no. You don't need to worry about it. I know if you see it, you won't be able to focus on feeling good."
Damn it, stop saying it with such sincerity. He's not wrong though. But how could you not worry? Blood is a royal pain to remove from anything.
His fingers slowly dance around your lower stomach, go down to your thighs, then gently start brushing back up to the
The excessive wet sound was almost too much. Yet you still couldn't look. Phainon made you keep eye contact with him.
With how much blood there was, it didn't take much need for a type of prep.
His fingers are still fairly large and can be felt when pushed in. He was still soft, very careful with them though. If he noticed even the slightest resistance he'd stop for a second, letting your body adjust.
As he worked his fingers, he leaned in to kiss you again. With the way his body was twisted, you're sure he's going to be the one feeling sore later. You already know he's going to laugh about it though, saying it's his way he can share even the tiniest bit of pain with you.
He pushes his middle finger and curls it in a spot that felt too good, cutting off the cramps immediately. You let out a gasp of pleasure from it.
He starts to slowly but firmly rub said area, making you try to look down again.
Yet again he keeps his other hand at your chin, preventing you from looking. He chuckles. "Just keep looking at me. You can let go. Let me let you feel good."
Like he thinks he isn't already. He knows he is.
He pulls his fingers out to rub a bit at your clit before pushing two of them back in and going back to assaulting that specific spot nearly making you see stars.
"That's it... You just need to let go and focus on feeling good. I got you."
He pushes a little extra firm on that spot for a second, sending a whole new shockwave of pleasure to course through you.
Your legs try to clamp around his hand. It's the point he can barely move it, making you able to realize just how tightly it's clamped.
You try to loosen their grip, even if they're shaking uncontrollably.
"Don't think about it too much. My hand can handle a little snugness. Just means I'm doing it right, aren't I?~"
At this point you don't know if his blabbering on is helping or making you feel worse.
The knot is starting to form. it's not the painful bloated one, it's the delectable, addicting one that just coils tighter, making you crave the sweet, sweet euphoric release.
You can feel your pussy clench and tighten on his fingers, trying to not let them leave when he pulls them out to toy with your clit a little bit every now and then, making you build up for one powerful release.
He knows every single little minute thing that sends you over the edge. What makes your body tick. Even back when you two first started being intimate he learned every little thing so incredibly quickly. All for you. To make you feel the best, just like now.
There's no long any pain. Just the cord about to snap.
He leans in once more but this time for a long, drawn-out kiss, knowing you're about to release.
You moan loudly into his mouth as the cord finally snaps, causing your intense orgasm to demand to flow freely.
He slows his fingers down, gently giving a few more slow thrusts before completely removing them and placing his hand on the towel next to your to get a better view of you.
You try to look down yet again, but once again get blocked, being forced to look in his eyes. His face has a rather prominent blush.
"Heh, if you keep trying to look down, I might just have to blindfold you next time. Be a bit of a shame though. I love seeing your eyes. Seeing all of you."
You weakly punch his chest, making him chuckle again before he hugs you with his clean hand.
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