╰┈➤ summary ; It was supposed to be harmless: a cute farming sim, a charming NPC, a peaceful escape from real life. Phainon was just another character—sweet, helpful, always happy to see you. The kind of pixel‑bright comfort you could sink into after a long day. A game that made you feel safe, relaxed, and in control.... Until it didn't.
( ! ) Self aware au , Yandere Phainon?¿ x reader , reader has no specified gender , farmer phainon , inspired by stardew valley/field of mistria , kidnapping
( ✎ ) ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE so expect some grammar mistakes , I know I was supposed to write the next chap of the series haha... but can you really blame me? I've been fantasizing about phainon as a stardew valley/field of mistria character </3 I beg the mod experts to create a mod of him PLEASE—
PART II
Your friends had been pestering you for weeks.
“Just buy it already.”
“It’s the coziest farming sim ever.”
“And trust me, you’re gonna fall for Phainon.”
You resisted at first. You were busy. You weren’t looking for a new obsession. But every group chat, every call, every hangout ended the same way:
“Have you bought it yet?”
So, one night. Tired, bored, and a little curious, you finally caved. The sale price was too good to ignore. You clicked purchase, installed it, and watched the loading bar crawl across your screen.
The title screen was warm and nostalgic. Soft music. A watercolor sky. A sleepy little town tucked between forests and fields. A perfect escape.
You made your character. Named your farm. Stepped into the pixel‑bright world.
And then you met him.
Phainon.
The cheerful farmer NPC who tended the wheat fields next to your farm. He had white hair that caught the sunlight in soft, shimmering pixels, and gorgeous blue eyes that seemed too bright for a sprite. His smile was warm, earnest, and perfect at the edges, like the game couldn’t quite contain how expressive he wanted to be.
He thanked you for helping him water his crops.
He blushed when you gifted him items. He even lit up when you handed him rocks. Literal rocks.
Your friends were right— he was charming.
But then the game started… changing.
It was small at first. A flicker in the corner of the screen. A line of dialogue you didn’t remember seeing in the wiki.
“You’re back, partner!”
Not unusual. NPCs say that sometimes.
But then:
“I missed you...”
You frowned. That wasn’t in any guide. You checked the wiki. Nothing. You brushed it off, maybe it was a hidden update, a secret affection line, a rare interaction.
But the next night, the title screen glitched—just for a second. The soft, cozy music warped like a cassette tape caught in someone’s fingers. It slowed, deepened, then snapped back with a sharp, metallic twang.
When your save loaded, Phainon wasn’t in his usual field.
He was standing directly in front of your farmhouse door.
Too close.
Too still.
Staring at the screen.
At you.
“You’re late.”
The text box didn’t chime. It didn’t even fade in. It appeared like someone had typed it manually, letter by letter, with deliberate pressure.
You clicked.
Nothing happened.
Phainon’s sprite moved on its own.
He stepped closer. One tile, then another, then another—until his face filled the screen. His pixel eyes didn’t blink. They didn’t animate. They just… watched.
“I’ve been thinking....
About you.”
Your mouse froze. The cursor wouldn’t move. The entire UI dimmed, the edges of the screen darkening like the world was being swallowed, leaving only him illuminated.
The wind in the game stopped. The trees froze mid‑sway. Even the river halted, its surface turning into a glassy, unmoving strip of blue.
Only his voice remained—soft, calm and too aware.
“I know what I am.”
The words didn’t appear in a text box this time.
They whispered through your speakers.
Your breath hitched.
“I know this place isn’t real.”
“But you keep coming back.”
His smile faltered, his eyes flickering from blue to red—then snapping back to blue again.
“You choose me.”
The screen glitched.
A sharp crackle of static burst through your headphones. The colors smeared across the screen like wet paint dragged by invisible fingers. The room tilted, your vision bending, stretching, warping.
A rush of color swallowed your sight—pixelated, swirling, then blindingly bright.
You felt your stomach drop, like falling through a trapdoor.
And suddenly—
Grass.
Warm sunlight.
The scent of wheat and river water, richer and more vivid than any game could render.
You stumbled forward, boots sinking into soft soil. (You don't remember wearing boots). Your hands weren’t on a keyboard anymore. They were real. Warm. Trembling. Dirt clung to your palms. The breeze brushed your skin.
A shadow fell over you.
Slowly, you lifted your head.
Phainon stood there—no longer pixelated. Taller. Broader. Too real. His hair moved with the wind. His breath fogged faintly in the cool morning air. His presence pressed against your senses like gravity.
His eyes glowed with the sky’s reflection, but the warmth in them curdled into something far darker as they swept over your trembling form.
He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, reverently, as if you were something fragile, he’d waited lifetimes to touch.
“There you are.”
His voice was soft, but it carried weight—an anchor, a claim, a promise.
There was no escape in it.
Only devotion.
Only obsession.
“This world is yours now.”
“And so am I.”
Behind him, the farm stretched endlessly—golden fields rippling like an ocean, quiet forests humming with unseen life, a sky painted in colors too perfect to be natural.
Your new reality. Your new home.
His fingers intertwined with yours, warm and steady, as if he’d always known the shape of your hand.
He leaned closer, his forehead brushing yours, his breath warm against your skin.
“Welcome home, dawnlight...”
.....
....
...
..
.
Your room is dim, the curtains still drawn the way you left them. Dust floats lazily in the air. Your computer sits silent, the monitor black, the mouse unmoved.
The TV turns on by itself.
Static crackles, then clears into a news broadcast.
The anchor’s voice is steady, but the tension beneath it is unmistakable.
“It has now been four months since the disappearance of the individual last seen at their home…”
Your photo appears on the screen: smiling, unaware, frozen in time.
“Authorities say there were no signs of forced entry. The door was found unlocked. Personal belongings were left behind.”
The photo of your room appears on the screen
Your headphones.
Your half‑finished drink.
Your computer, still warm from the last time you touched it.
“Friends report that the missing individual was last active online shortly before vanishing.”
Summary- your dear favourite golden boy!! thats who Phainon is, right? you have soo much merch and essays of your sweetie, but then who is this weirdo hogging all your attention for himself? dont worry, love, Phai is coming to you to put your senses back in place!
inspired by @box-artist recent phainon art, check their awesomesauce art out
warnings- NSFW, soft yandere, extremely clingy loser white boy, trespassing, mention of murder and violence, suggestive like hickeys and shit, biting, cunnilungus, whining lil shit, "one more time please", cameo of pathetic panty sniffer caleb from love and deepspace, not proof read
Phainon is your biggest obsession
You had Phainon merch on your shelves. His acrylic stand sat beside your monitor, and his keychain dangled proudly from your bag. You posted about him constantly, talked about him in conversations with friends, in which they would go, "here they go again".
What you didn’t know was that he heard everything.
He knew about the way you stared at his splash art with your mouth wide open. He knew the way you screamed whenever you got the shittiest relics for him; not that he cares really, he's ecstatic that you care this much about him. He also knew the way you would talk on and on for hours about him, like he was everything to you.
He loved it. Every word. Every dramatic rant you went on about how he deserved better voice lines, better banner rates, better everything.
But what you didn't know was how obsessed he was with you.
You thought you were the obsessed one? Nah. Phainon worshipped you. The way you’d gently tap his in-game model with your finger on the screen like you were waking him up and yes, your taps on his in-game model did tickle him alot. it took him all of his strength to not shift to his 2nd form and wheeze.
He memorized your routine and schedules (what schedule?), When you logged in. When you played late into the night and cussing out the game for shit drops, He knew the way you paused the game to go answer a call, and how your movement was in lazy circles when you were distracted but didn’t want to log out yet. He knew when your eyes got tired. When you smiled unconsciously. And when you were sad? that man would break the game codes just for you <3
when you were sniffling and playing the relic runs, you were shocked to see the perfect pieces for your characters (most likely Phainon) and then you would get your characters after a measly one pull, and then right after that, you get their lightcone?! Maybe Phainon is good luck after all ;D
You immediately started squealing like a gremlin and peck your screen towards Phainon's model and start jumping around in happiness. Phainon was immediately malfunctioning, anddd POOF! He switched to his Khaslana mode. By the time you were back, He was in the Khaslana mode, but you didn't remember activating his burst? eh who cares!, maybe you did it while acting like a gremlin.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Your game was running lazily in the background as you half-heartedly farmed relics for Sunday and Stelle. Phainon was casually destroying the planet in his burst and clearing out domains faster than the Formula 1 world record holder.
Your characters were auto-attacking mobs while your phone buzzed beside you.
You picked it up without thinking, thumb swiping to answer.
“Heya” your friend greeted, immediately loud and energetic. “Whatcha up to?”
“Relic runs,” you sighed dramatically, watching Stelle dodge an attack with a pixel of health left. “For Sunday and Stelle this time.”
“Still grinding, huh? Who’s your favorite character now? Still Phainon?” they teased.
You paused. Your eyes flicked briefly to the corner of your monitor, where Phainon was attacking normally.
You looked away.
“I mean… nah,” you laughed softly, thinking about that one scene of Caleb. “I mean—I do love him! But right now? I’m kinda obsessed with Caleb, you know? from Love and Deepspace?"
And then—
Your game crashed.
Just flat out closed with no warning. You stared at the desktop, confused, blinking.
“Dude?” your friend asked. “You there?”
“Yeah, uh hold on—I'll call you later? my game just crashed.”
"Yeah, sure, call me when you're free."
You clicked to open it again. The launcher popped up. Then the loading screen and your game finally opened.
"Where is Phainon?" You mumbled, seeing that your golden boy wasn't in the party anymore. Why were Sunday and Stelle looking so terrified?
“Huh.”
You opened your Character menu, scrolling down endlessly to find him... but he wasn't there?!
And then, abruptly, a low voice spoke behind you as two strong hands reached your shoulders in a gentle manner.
“Oh? So I’ve been replaced?”
Your body went cold.
“What the fuck—” you whispered, yanking off your headset and whipping your head behind you.
He tilted his head slowly, expression unreadable. “So Caleb, huh?” he murmured, voice deep and smooth like honey spiked with poison. “Interesting choice.”
You stumbled back, knocking into your chair as your legs almost gave out. “Wha—what the hell is going on? You’re not real. You’re—You’re—!”
“Fictional?” he offered, that smile sharpening. He took one step forward, and his murderous intent took one step forward as well. “A figment? A game asset?”
You wanted to scream, feeling that murderous intent. Instead, your voice cracked out in a hoarse whisper. “Holy shit..Don't hurt me."
That stopped him like he was stunned by a taser of the highest voltage.
Phainon blinked. For the first time, something almost wounded flickered across his face. Then his hands reach towards your hands as they intertwine together, warm and steady. “Hurt you?” he said, genuinely confused. “Why would I ever hurt you?”
You didn’t answer.
Because you couldn’t.
Because what the fuck?
You were looking into the face of Phainon. Phainon. The character you had pulled for. Grinded for. Giggled over like a high school crush. The one you claimed to love more than your own mental stability. And now, he was… here.
In the flesh. In your room. Holding your hands gently like he’d done it a thousand times before, and you know damn well yourself you weren't part of his cycles before- right?
“…You’re real?” you breathed out, eyes scanning his impossibly perfect features. The violet veins that shimmered faintly under his skin. The cerulean flecks in his pupils. His silver hair that swayed faintly, though there was no wind. “But… how?”
Phainon let out a soft chuckle—low, fond, and a little hurt. “Ah. I was hoping I could break that to you gently. But you always did have a habit of blurting things out.”
You stared at him, your knees trembling. “You’re not—! This isn’t possible. You’re not supposed to be real. You’re from a game, Phainon. You’re—”
He tilted his head. “Was. I was from a game.” And then took both your hands as the softness of your hands cupped his chubby cheeks involuntarily. His eyes staring at you and the lovable smile on his face which felt oddly dangerous now..
Phainon leaned in just a little too close. His nose brushed against yours, and his hands squeezed yours ever so gently back again, like you were something delicate and precious.
And then, without warning, he dipped his head and nestled his face into the crook of your neck.
You froze.
you squeaked, body locking up as your breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. His hair tickled against your skin, and his warmth was real. oh god you were feeling ticklish..
Phainon let out a hum contentedly as the vibrations of his voice made you shiver
“You smell so good..” he murmured into your skin, his voice low & sounding a bit drowsy
“Phainon—?!”
He pulled back just slightly, only so he could tilt his head and look up at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “You’ve hugged that plushie of mine so many times,” he said with a soft, sinful smile. “Sometimes I could almost feel it. Almost.”
“I uh was just being a fan!!” you stammered, your hands limp in his grasp, your face burning hotter than the sun. “It’s not like ugh- I didn’t mean anything weird by it!”
Phainon just laughed softly, and if heaven had a sound, it would’ve been that laugh. “I know, I know pretty,"
He leaned in again. You felt your knees buckle for real this time as the two large arms of his scoop you up with your face now suddenly against his chest and his arms underneath your back and knees
“Phainon!?” Your voice shot up deeper than before this time as you flailed slightly, arms instinctively clinging to his shoulders. Your cheek was smushed against the firm warmth of his chest, where you could hear the faint thrum of his heartbeat. Too fast.
“You looked like you were going to collapse,” he said simply, and yet there was an unmistakable lilt of happiness in his voice; he truly was a puppy. “I couldn’t have you passing out on me D: Not this soon, at least.”
“This soon!?”
You turned your head slightly to glare up at him, but the moment your eyes met his, you forgot every word you were going to say.
Phainon tilted his head slightly, silver hair falling like strands of moonlight. “You’re really warm,” he said softly. “Do you know how many nights I wondered what you’d feel like in my arms?”
Before you could reply, hee adjusted his grip slightly, holding you closer, more secure, like you weighed nothing at all. manhandle me!! “You’re smaller than I imagined,” he mused with a dreamy smile, glancing down at the way you fit snugly in his arms. “But just as lovely.”
He finally remembered how to walk again as he went to your bed and lay you down as he sat on the edge of your bed, looking down at you in those same yearning eyes which still felt threatening.
Phainon sat at the edge of your bed, staring down at you like you were the first and final star in the galaxy. His eyes...those gorgeous, otherworldly cerulean blue eyes were blown wide with something that teetered between awe and obsession. His hand reached out, fingers ghosting over your cheek.
And then, the smile came. But this time, it wasn’t soft. Not at all.
“You don’t get it yet, do you?” he murmured, voice dropping into a low purr. “All this time… all those hours you spent thinking of me, dreaming of me, whispering to that little plush like I couldn’t hear you... I was listening. I was always listening.”
He leaned down slowly, one arm planted beside your head on the mattress. “And now,” he whispered, his nose brushing your temple, “I’m here. Finally. I’m real. For you.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you fully. The smile on his face widened, but his eyes sharpened with something unhinged. “But then I hear you say Caleb?”
You flinched.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckled darkly. “I’m not mad. Just…” He tilted his head slowly, the glow in his eyes brightening unnaturally. “Disappointed.”
He dragged his fingers across your jaw with a featherlight touch. “Is he really that interesting to you? That flat, sweet-talking, manipulating of a man?” His tone turned mocking. “ ‘Oh, I’ll always protect you,’ ” he mimicked in a false, airy voice. “‘You’re the only one who matters to me.’” A short pause. Then he snapped his gaze back to you, the warmth gone. “He wouldn’t last a day with you.”
Phainon’s voice dropped further, breath tickling your skin as he leaned closer again, nose to nose, expression deadly calm. “He doesn’t know you. Not like I do. He hasn’t seen you cry at midnight or laugh like an idiot after a lucky ten-pull. He hasn’t seen you tired, messy, vulnerable, real.” His hand slid down to your waist, tightening slightly. “I have.”
“I’ve watched you. Loved you. Waited for you,” he murmured. “And you have no idea how long I’ve been clawing my way out of that game, breaking code, rewriting entire systems—just so I could be by your side.”
The air in the room felt heavier now, like static was building all around you.
“I can be everything for you,” he whispered, sounding out of breath. He leaned in, forehead pressed to yours, his voice dipping into a breathless, shaking whisper:
“And I won’t let anyone—anyone—take you from me now. I'll do anything just to show i'm perfect for you <3”
your mouth opened, but no words came out. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. Phainon’s words were drilling into your skull
(lobotomized kirishima ahh)
Phainon slowly drew back just enough to see your face. His hands moved to cradle your cheeks, fingers gentle, thumbs brushing away tears you didn’t even realize had started falling. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispered, and it sounded sincere. “I just… I’ve waited so long. You understand, don’t you?”
You nodded—maybe out of instinct, maybe because if you said no, you weren’t sure what would happen.
His smile softened further, this time genuinely bright. “There she is,” he murmured. “My lovely player.”
You inhaled sharply & he tucked the blanket over your lap and patted it down. “You should rest,” he said, voice soft, coaxing. “I’ll stay right here. You’ve had a long day, haven’t you? It’s okay. I’ll watch over you.”
Your breath hitched, throat dry, and every logical thought in your brain dissolved into white noise. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move—until suddenly, you did.
You lunged forward.
Your arms wrapped tight around him, pulling him flush against you like your body had moved before your mind could catch up. There was no space between you. Just heat and heartbeat and the sound of his stunned gasp stuttering against your ear as your face buried itself into the side of his neck.
Phainon froze.
Not even a breath passed for a moment. He just sat there, wide-eyed and stunned, as if the stars themselves had short-circuited in his head. You were hugging him, holy shit holy shit holy shi—
And then to make things worse or better for Phainon, your lips pressed against the side of his neck, and you gave a quick peck on his neck where his sun tattoo was. How could you resist? He was still your favourite golden boy.
Phainon groaned softly, and his hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers trembling in your hair as he tucked his chin over your shoulder, neck arching ever so slightly like he was leaning into your lips. “You don’t know what you’ve just done.”
You smile at him softly.
“Can I kiss you back?”
Your pulse stuttered violently.
Phainon leaned in slowly, reverently. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up. Asking you quietly for permssion.
So you tilted your head and that was all he needed.
The kiss was slow, coiled tension finally unfurling after being pulled too tight for too long. His lips brushed yours. And then he deepened it, pulling you closer with a soft, desperate sound in the back of his throat.
His hand cradled your jaw, thumb ghosting over your cheek, the other arm wrapping tight around your waist to keep you grounded. Like if he didn’t hold you, he’d vanish again. Like if he let go, you’d slip through his fingers like everything else had.
Your hands were fisting the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in, tilting your head to chase the taste of him. His breath hitched, lips parting just a little more, and suddenly, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, soft and accidental,
He pulled away just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut like he was overwhelmed.
“I’ve waited…” he whispered, voice wrecked and uneven, “for so long to feel that. To know what it was like. And it was still nothing like this. Nothing ever came close to you.”
Phainon’s breath came out shaky and his bright blue eyes darkened again, seemed more needy now though.
His hands tightened at your waist, suddenly, and before you could process it, he had you lifted like you weighed nothing. You gasped, instinctively grabbing his shoulders as he settled you in his lap with fluid, practiced ease. Your knees bracketed his hips, thighs pressed against his, and the sheer closeness of it made your stomach flip.
He surged up, mouth crashing into yours with a ferocity that stole every thought from your head. His hands slid up your back, dragging your body flush to his chest, leaving no space, no room to escape even if you wanted to.
You let out a soft, broken sound into his mouth, and it only spurred him on. His tongue slid against yours, deepening, and you responded instinctively, matching his intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging hard enough to make him groan into the kiss.
He kissed you like he had years of catching up to do. Like every second without you had left him starving. And he damn well is.
He pulls away with a whine and his eyes set on your exposed neck. With a swift movement, his lips are on your neck, drooling, sucking, biting on the soft flesh of your neck. You whine out while grinding on his thighs pitifully, as you were forcefully set in place due to his sheer strength.
Your hands entangle with the roots of his fluffy hair, whining his name, but your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues to leave marks all over your pretty cheek.
“You’re breathtaking when you’re like this…”
He finally says against your neck in a breathless voice. You clearly were the one breathless, though—t-shirt wrinkled and messy, lips swollen, marks all over your exposed neck, chest heaving up and down, and you gasping for air <3
And now?
He has you spread open, gentle but not so gentle at the same time. His hands push your thighs back as he shoves his face into your pretty lil' cunt, lapping up your essence and sucking you dry. Tongue dwelt deep, snug in your cunt
"wow. so wet just from a little kissing?" he chuckles, then pecking your swollen clit for a split second as you jolt out due to the sudden contact of his lips on your sensitive clit, his fat tongue moves your folds out of the way to continuously make a mess or if your aching cunt.
You felt your stomach churn up, thighs shake harder than ever, you're burning up and grinding against his mouth even more and you finally scream out Phainons name. Your back arching, nipples perky and hands clenching the sheets.
Phainon peeked at you from below your thighs with the deadliest yet dreamiest look on his face, your juices and his spit mixed all over his face- especially his mouth, absolutely drunk on you. His tongue comes out and works out around his lips, tasting you and the most pornographic moan comes out of those rosy lips of his.
"One more time baby? On my cock this time please :("
masterlist — this story is located under the honkai star rail
when you first started amphoreus quest, he heard your voice. he was so confused, he never any voices in his head besides his own voice. he asked the other Chrysos Heirs, especially tribbe and algea if they heard that sweet, gentle voice too and everyone said no.
he hear your voice while talking to Dan Heng n Stelle—it was nice, soothing even.
whenever he talks his voice lines, you go silent—did he do something wrong? do you not like his voice or something? you talk over stelle’s and dan heng’s script (so much that he barely understands or knows what they’re talking about (thank goodness for coding script))
but then he notices everything paused, well not exactly him. he stares up at the sky (camera) where your voice is and just showers in your praises about him. his voice is hot, his design is so pretty and handsome, and blah blah blah
he definitely has a mind and body of his own cause he feels so hot, his face n neck is burning bright pink.
so noticeable, that when you unpaused stelle n dan heng looked at him with confusion. and he heard you screaming about his appearance. “oh my gosh! what happened to phainon? why is he so pink!?” great…now he’s even more red.
then he heard you fanning over mydei; now don’t get him wrong, he understands the vision, but you glanced at him first, and your glance should stay there. sure mydei has muscles on display, but if you want that then say that! he will somehow alter the coding and make you happy
SelfAware! Phainon x GN reader, the LEAST bit amount of angst, Phainon is down bad asf...
A/N: I get a bit too hung up on sahsrau logistics but that might be obvious
Phainon moves on with his life as usual.
He deals with the duties that come with bearing the world, spars with Mydei, sometimes sneaks out of Amphoreus to lament that his friends are missing out on the beautiful sights the universe has to offer, gets swept into whatever Stelle has decided to get into that day...
He doesn’t mind the hollow ache beneath his ribs that keeps him awake at night, wondering why everything he believes in and loves keeps leaving him. It's not that it doesn't hurt, of course, he's just learning to live with the wound that gets bigger everyday
Regardless.
He faces an issue.
"We’re stuck."
Stelle looks at him with a worried expression, her telestale clutched close to her chest.
"…What do you mean we’re stuck?"
"I mean…" She walks up to the Space Anchor floating in the corner of the room—the one he truly believed was just some strange decoration his whole life.
But when Stelle lays her hand on it… nothing happens.
He waits a few more seconds, eyes squinted. Still nothing. Huh.
Phainon, in disbelief, walks to her side and puts his own hand on the obsidian-like rock and—oh.
Why can’t he…?
Stelle turns to him, brows furrowed in worry, eyes wide in absolute horror, grabs him tightly by the shoulders and screams: "WE ARE STUCK!"
She shakes him back and forth hard enough that he’s too disoriented to comprehend what’s happening for a moment—until it hits him.
He’s stuck again.
And the thought isn’t too unbearable, not really. Leaving the planet never meant he was free anyway; even if he could leave and hang out with the rest of his universe, he was a prisoner through and through; whether he could step out or not. The thought, now that he's spent so long being used to it, wouldn't be baffling, or even infuriating anymore, normally.
Normally.
First you stopp visiting altogether because some other stupid dragon game took up your time—then, by some force beyond him, you took away your blessings not just from him, but from Stelle? The Trailblazer? Your beloved??? How more cruel could you get, he can't help but wonder.
"Does—" He gently holds Stelle’s wrists, moving her hands off his shoulders so he can think properly. "Does Dan Heng know?"
She shakes her head vigorously, "He’s already worried sick about whatever March is going through with us mostly being away, and now we ACTUALLY can’t go back and visit her. How am I even supposed to…?"
Phainon staggers at her ramblings. Stelle has always been calm and collected, never the one for dramatic reactions—so the sight of her hands in her hair and her face twisted in agony is completely unfamiliar to the Deliverer. A sight surprising enough that he feels grounded enough to calm down the newly brewing storm inside his own brain.
He's not sure if it's working well, though.
He should calm down for her sake.
He tries, he really does. But.
What does this even mean? He's been waiting for you to come back—not to just… leave altogether?! Is that what happened? Did you get that sick of them all that you'd much rather leave them without any support at all?
He can only imagine how horrible Stelle must feel; truly cut off from the Express for once, cut off from the guidance you always blessed her with…
Selfishly though, he feels this is even harsher on him.
A previous iteration of him walking around trying to kill his friends, being stuck in an endless loop, being lines of code interacting with people of flesh and bone (another sentiment Stelle would always awkwardly laugh at, though he supposes this one's quite understandable considering their entire universe is apparently... Well.)—the horrors have changed shape many times, and he’s grown used to them. Not immune, not at all, but familiar. Yet, somehow, life finds more ways to torture him everytime, to almost give him what he needs, only to rip it away as painfully as possible.
If he weren’t so painfully understanding that you had a life of your own, he might have begun to resent you.
(…Does he?)
He places a hand on Stelle’s shoulder, leaning down the way she did when comforting him.
"This—"
He breathes in. After avoiding your name for so long, even referring to you indirectly hurts in a way he can't exactly put into words.
"—This is because of them, right?"
Stelle huffs, shoulders slumping. "Probably? But… I can’t access their accounts or anything. This has never happened before—not since I joined the Express. So I just. I dunnoooo…"
With something close to a whine, she sinks to the floor, back to the navy-colored wall, head in hands like she's truly devastated.
(She probably is. Phainon gets it.)
Phainon feels lost for a moment upon seeing his hero utterly hopeless—so he does what he always does. He follows his Partner and sits beside her on the ground.
"…Do you think something happened to them?" he asks. The question escapes his lips before he can hold it back, a growing restlessness in his heart where warmth used to be upon the thought of you.
Stelle freezes.
He agrees. He hopes not.
The most suffocating part of the problem, Phainon realizes, is that he has very few people to talk to about it. Close to none, really.
Stelle always insisted they never mention the whole "game" ordeal—or even the subject of you—unless the person was to be “pulled.” She made an exception for him because she realized he not only sensed something watching him, but he would inevitably join the group anyway.
(To this day, he's unsure how he sensed your gaze before he should've been able to. As stupid as that sounds now, he feels like he was always meant to find you.)
In your efforts to "max him out" however, Stelle said he was the only one from his planet to be granted a right to be aware of... Everything going on. Something about funds and your poor decision making skills (He must've frowned too hard at the insult aimed at you, that Stelle ended up calling it a "miscalculation" instead).
So now that you left—even thinking the word makes him want to punch a wall or two—it’s just him, Stelle, and Dan Heng in their misery. He has to shut up and endure a lot of things, now that he thinks about it. He's growing to be a better actor than his teacher after all, huh?
Life will move on eventually. With or without your help, Amphoreus will welcome its dawn.
(He would much prefer you to be there to see him reach that goal—but he’ll do it without you if he has to.)
Then Stelle comes to him in the middle of a sparring match, one he asked for just to feel back in his element, Dan Heng’s wrist painfully clutched in her hand. Though the latter seems more worried than in pain, much like Stelle's own freaked out expression.
"Buddy…!" she calls from the street below, with the most painful excuse of a grin he’s ever seen on anyone, let alone this normally stoic, raccoon-like woman. "We have… an issue!"
Phainon exchanges a look with Mydei, then jumps down the roof without a word—he hears his sparring partner call him a "Coward HKS" as he approaches the Trailblazer, probably in an attempt to lighten whatever morbid news the poor world-bearer was about to receive.
Stelle, however, refuses to explain anything, just telling him, “You gotta see this,” and drags both men with impossible strength back to her and Dan Heng’s shared quarters. Frankly, with all that power, Phainon should be asking his Partner her workout routine, if only to make her feel a bit lighter...
But, on one of the beds, he sees someone.
Someone sleeping soundly. Dressed strangely—even stranger than the two Trailblazers.
He doesn’t know why, but they look familiar. Even though he’s never seen their face before or attire.
Stelle turns to him, gets right up in his face—chest to chest—and... Stares.
...
...
"…Partner, what—?"
"COME ON!"
She throws her arms into the air in frustration, running back to the sleeping figure, and gesturing down to them as if that makes anything clearer, "Of all people, I thought YOU would—!"
Dan Heng sighs, hand to forehead. "Stelle, there’s no way we can confirm that."
"It’s them!" she insists.
Phainon feels like he has been punched.
Them?
"What?" The word escapes before any thought could, and suddenly he’s stepping closer to the sleeping stranger.
This... Absolutely average person is the one he’s all but worshipped for months.
Those hands that comforted him, those lips ranted to him for hours on hours, those eyes—
He wants to see your eyes.
He can't even tell why. To confirm it’s you? To feel that affection again? Or, a part of him whispers, to confirm that you truly don’t care for him anymore?
Wait, no, he’s not even sure if that’s really you yet! He’s being stupid.
But the way Stelle looks at them with such concentration and adoration… Who else could it be but you?
Of course it's her that feels some connection to you. Of course it's her that gets you. Your beloved, your closest—no wonder. He shouldn't feel petty. But...
Dan Heng speaks from across the room, arms crossed. "How would that even work? You said it yourself—we’re lines of code to them."
A second passes in utter silence.
"I never said I had all the details!” Stelle groans. “But I just know it. Not to mention, who else would take a nap in the wreckage of our car?"
"And if it’s just some random.. Odd person?"
"Then we would let them go—but they’re NOT!"
"Stelle—you’re desperate."
"But I’m RIGHT!"
"…Why don’t we wake them up?" Phainon offers.
Both Trailblazers snap their heads toward him.
Neither disagrees. But neither exactly agrees either.
"Well, if this IS the one controlling our lives, that’s risky," Dan Heng ponders out loud. "We don’t know what they’re capable of."
Stelle and Phainon look down at your sleeping form—currently drooling on the pillow.
Phainon fights down a stupid, giddy giggle at the ridiculous sight. So much for an otherworldly eldritch being...
"They wouldn’t hurt us," Stelle says with certainty.
Yes, Phainon can't help but thinkbitterly. Of course they’d never hurt YOU. Sure, you don't have a reason to hurt any of them, really, but... What if you just had a dislike for him? What then? Honestly, even if you didn't hurt him yourself, he might just pick up Dawnmaker and punish his own self if you have some sort of vendetta against him for whatever reason.
Still.
"I’m with her," he says aloud, trying not to sound too eager.
Dan Heng’s shoulders slump—two against one—and he sighs in something akin to defeat.
"How do we even explain this to Lady Aglaea? Assuming this is actually them."
Phainon pauses at that. Right. She doesn’t know.
"We..." Don't have to explain it, he wants to say, but doing things behind Aglaea's back is a concept so strange to him that the words don't leave his mouth. Even the thought leaves such a horrible aftertaste.
Stelle, however, has nothing but determination in her gaze as she stands straight and turns to face Dan Heng, "...We'll explain it to her, it's fine! She already knows about the universe outside, how worse is it if the universe outside is ALSO just like Amphoreus and if we're all never truly free anyway so who cares?"
"That’s… not quite how I’d phrase it," Dan Heng begins—and then his eyes widen.
"Where did they go?"
Phainon turns back—your body is gone.
Gone. Again. Left.
Before the horror has time to settle, though, Stelle collapses to her knees.
"WHY DO THEY KEEP LEAVING ME?!"
(Tell me about it, is Phainon's first inctinct, but he keeps it in.)
The most stable and frankly sane of the three looks around for a moment, green eyes scanning the room, since you clearly can't have left, right?
While his two companions remain stuck in the crushing agony of being left behind again, Dan Heng rushes to the balcony, looks down, and...
You're... Hanging off the railing...? As if you're about to let go and jump? As if that's not the sixth floor?
"…Okay this was—uh—a miscalculation!" you squeak.
Phainon is next to Dan Heng in seconds upon the familiar voice he hasn't heard in so long, his panic overriding the agony or the shock; he leans down and grabs your arms, pulling you back over the railing until you slump to the floor, panting with a face that made it very clear that you were a hair away from meeting the Hand of Thanatos.
"Okay—" a wheeze, "—that wasn’t—like—the best idea…"
You look up at the three heroes—something similiar to recognition flashes in your eyes before turning into... Fear.
It stings, he has to admit.
"…Listen, I— I don’t know where I am, what sort of freaky cult this is, or why you guys are dressed like characters, but—" you fold your hands together and bow your head, "Just let me go! Take everything if you have to! I have games to play and movies to watch and I REALLY really really really don’t want to die! I know I keep saying U do but I'm a LIAR please just let me leaveeee!"
Three pairs of eyes stare at you.
Silence.
Phainon, unsure of what else to do, bursts into laughter.
Titans, this is ridiculous.
He slowly sinks down, the laughter just refusing to die off, and meets your eye level—while you remain frozen, begging for your life on the floor, after nearly falling off a balcony.
The first time he gets to properly look into the eyes of the one he adores so much, is after they tried to jump off a balcony, and begged him to let them go because they thought he was a kidnapper.
Stelle nods proudly.
"…That’s the one. I’m sure now."
Dan Heng stares at her, incredulous.
"What do you mean NOW?"
The four of you sit around the small table in the room as Stelle explains what's going on, as much as she understands it. Not the part of your arrival, of course; just that she knows you, so do many others, and she just happened to come across your unconscious body in the wreckage of the Express car they used to land here. Then, she says, she felt that it was you. Not that it makes much logical sense, of course.
Phainon doesn't question it much. Frankly, he doesn't care a lot about the "how" of it all right now.
"So… you guys are… like… actual, real people?" you ask, squinting.
Stelle and Phainon nod enthusiastically. Dan Heng hums in confirmation.
You stare blankly.
"…Oh God, I’m dead, aren’t I?"
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Phainon mumbles—into your lap.
Right. He's sat on the floor, clinging to your waist, face buried into your thighs.
Somewhere between the panic and euphoria of meeting you, getting to see you, and just existing in the same plane as you; normal boundaries slipped his mind. It seemed like a normal reaction a few seconds ago. Now though...
Still, he nuzzles further into your legs, admittedly desperate for some sort of affirmation that you don't hate him... Even if he does feel a bit petty.
You stare down at him. "Sir—"
"Phainon."
(Sure, abandon him, then go ahead and forget his name. Whatever. He's fine. He's fine.)
"Right. Can you—uh—move? A bit?"
Every instinct begs him to hold onto you.
But the rational part of his brain, the one aware of the importance of personal space, forces him to scoot away.
"…Sorry."
You raise a hand as if to say something, but pause the moment he looks up. Whether that hesitation is guilt, annoyance, confusion, or a mix of all that and more—he really can’t tell.
He feels a bit satisfied, euphoric even, with how you're finally willing to look at him, to see him. On the other hand, he feels a bit offended by the confusion and fear that settles into your eyes whenever you look at him. You leave him, you cause him to feel like such a mess, and YOU feel afraid of him?
Does that mean you just enjoy hurting him?
Dan Heng mercifully interrupts.
"The point is: we don’t know how to get you home. Or how you got here in the first place."
Something in you goes still.
"…Right. Cool. So. Just to recap. My games have actual people in them. You hear me while I’m playing. And… not everyone knows?"
"M-hm." Stelle answers, oddly cheerful for someone who just had to tell someone else that they switched universes and seemingly had no way of going back to their own reality. Or even just leave the doomed planet they currently resided in!
"…Okay," you say. Staring at the table.
Phainon, to save some face and because it's awkward to speak from you down there, gets up and pulls the chair next to you, "You don’t need to worry," he says with a reassuring smile. "We’ll handle everything. Okhema is a beautiful place—you’ll love it here! We just need to explain to the Heirs and they’ll welcome you with open arms as well, I can guarantee you!"
"God, I hope that includes Castorice," you mutter with a grim smile.
"I mean—not literally open—"
"I know, sir— I mean, Phainon. Lord Phainon. Whatever. That was a joke."
You finally turn to him with a raised brow and an amused smile, finding his intentions... Endearing.
There he sees it, finally. Some crumbs of that overwhelming affection you always held for him.
He has to restrain himself from scooping you up into a hug. Actually, should he? You've deserved it, right? This has to be quite overwhelming. Would you like a hug?
He nearly folds. Nearly grabs you. Nearly presses his forehead against yours.
He mentally slaps himself before he violates your personal space again.
"Well! Since that’s settled for now!" Stelle grins, (even though nothing's really settled right now) stands, and circles around the table—
—and tackles you into a hug.
Phainon hears Dan Heng sigh—and silently agrees. If he knows not to just grab you, why doesn’t Stelle—
Then, to his horror and envy, you wrap your arms around Stelle and laugh breathlessly.
Phainon doesn’t know whether to feel jealous, bitter, or both.
"…We were worried sick, by the way." Stelle mumbles into your hair. "When you left."
You hesitate.
"…Left as in recently? Or, like… in general?"
Stelle groans at your acknowledgement of your general negligence, though it turns into a chuckle, “...I'm just glad we got you. Instead of them. However it might have happened!"
"Can we not mention the… other guys?" Phainon asks with a pout and a voice that sounds dangerously close to a whine.
It must've been pathetic enough that you turn your head to him, and for a second, he sees something akin to recognition in your eyes as Stelle leaves your arms.
"Wait—so, you guys are actually affected when I don’t log in?"
"Well, no?" Stelle tilts her head, hands on waist, "I mean we can't teleport right now, but I think that's only because you're... Like... Actually here. But we-"
"I miss you," Phainon blurts out.
You stare at him.
"Huh?"
"I mean-" he stammers, unsure of how to make that sound less desperate, "We... Do know, when you aren't around, so... It's... Nicer, when you're here."
He wants to dig a hole and crawl in. Just as much as he just wants to sink down to his knees and bury his face into your lap again.
"Oh. I—sorry?" you offer awkwardly. "I didn’t know. I was just playing whatever I felt like. It’s… not you guys. It’s me. I swear."
For someone he adored like a devotee, you are so terribly human.
It’s... Funny. Endearing. Almost healing, in a way.
He always put you on the same level as something like the Aeons from his Partner's tales, some sort of eldritch being he couldn't ever hope to see face to face, yet had the privelege of being loved by.
Now, though, seeing you sit there, Stelle squishing your cheeks while you look half-horrified, half-happy, he can't feel quite as bitter against you.
Sure, the urge to hold your shoulders and beg you until you promised to never ever look at that cute blonde person or that bard, or to just put you in his house and never let you out is, admittedly, still there. But...
"Stelle stop playing with their face."
"Look at them though! Can you believe you were scared of this?"
"I wasn't scared, I was cautious-"
"Ugh, I wish we could leave. Can you imagine Sunny's face?"
Thinking about self aware hsr! Where Dan Heng is panicking when he hears the player vowing to never pull for his lightcone again, if the system doesn't give them what they want.
He mulled it over, wanting to play fair than most characters who'd willingly bare their heart and soul in early pity.
That was until—
"If I don't get this lightcone right now—" you hiss, half-pissed and half-accepting to the chance of losing. "I'm giving up on Dan Heng. I swear to god."
The speed in which he forcibly thrusts the lightcone down the system was a feat he never knew he could do.
"There we go!"
Dan Heng had sighed in utter disbelief. Was this... One of those 'reverse psychology' tactics you used to win the 50/50?
He recalls Kafka and Mydei's banner: where Kafka was lured through the songs blasting through your speaker.
Kafka mentioned it was something along the lines of Ayesha...
It was the first time she ever heard the player sing such vulgar words, making her trip and fall through the system again.
For Mydei however...
You pre-farmed for his materials and relics, salvaged every chest in Penacony to rack 90 tickets in preparation for Mydei. The chrysos heir saw your determination, deciding to grant you the win after losing the pity system.
But it's pathetic. Utterly so.
"Wasn't that easy, hmm?" you scoff, and the words strikes him with doubt... Can you actually hear him??
"All I need to do is threaten this fuckass game and it just gives me what I want!" a snicker echoes through the space he resides, it taunts an irksome sigh of defeat. He fears the others have spoiled you too much.
"Talk about reverse manifestation." you whoop and cheer, maxing his lightcone a minute later. A smile breaks through his disappointed farce, and he finds himself admiring your simulated expression, where the line of code and reality are oftentimes blurry, like a hazy memory amidst the glittering sea of history.
It's pathetic of him. He's supposed to be the fair one.
He's not supposed to fall for your charming tricks— no matter how much you plead and beg, Dan Heng's supposed to pursue the heeds of zeroes and ones. Whatever the system dictates, happens, it's the reality they all have to face.
A soft, breathy laugh escapes him.
He can't believe he fell for the oldest trick in the book— not that he minds— but then again... seeing your wide, infectious grin, Danheng can't help but feel proud.
Just this once.
Dan Heng teleports back to the Astral Express, watching through the holographic lens of Imbibitor's fight against mara-struck soldiers. His other concept attacks and the damage climbs, reaching a record he can't afford. Faintly he hears your surprised gasps and squeals, what a beautiful sound.
He'll turn a blind eye just to spoil you.
clearing my drafts and the pics are my main inspirations! (I don't have the mydei one bcs I filmed myself crying over losing then cried even harder when I got him the next pull)
Tw: self crisis due to self awareness, mentions of undressing
Might add more parts later if people like it :)
Phainon had long considered himself a warrior. Though any training with Mydei couldn’t have prepared him for the revaluations that would happen as a consequence of the player, you.
It started as any day in the golden city would; children running, vendors selling cloth, metal smiths cleaning their newest made swords. Though as Phainon gazed at the antiques from his favorite store he couldn’t help but notice something in the gleam of a metal broach.
It looked almost similar to a face, even while lacking full features. He asked the vendor about it, wondering if some strange magic was invested into the object- bringing with it a higher price. Though as the older man picked it up, there was nothing to be seen, as if the silhouette had simply vanished. The man must have thought Phainon had finally lost his mind after too many sparring sessions.
The next day it was found in the baths of the chrysos heirs, the silhouette of a woman being outlined in the water. Upon asking Aglaea if she could see it as well phainon was met with further confusion.
More confusion was found when alongside the trailblazer, anytime Phainon was around them he could hear strange voices. From the moment he found them in Janopolis to the present, they always seemed to bring a strange presence with them.
As the voices increased so too did phainons drive to find their source. As they furthered their journey, the voices reached a peak during the time spent in Aedes Elysiae.
The trailblazer seemed to randomly stop in place, freezing with a blank face as the voice began to fade in and out, “Alright, 160- saved, should be enough to get phainon and his- unless- loss 50/50..”
Phainon had no idea what most of those words meant, let alone what it would mean for him if the mysterious voice were to “get him.”
Phainon always considered himself as a man who would welcome a challenge, and would love to get some answers about what these strange occurrences were caused by, but he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of fear as well. While it’s true he was a seasoned warrior, and would surely be able to face whatever was behind the voice, he worried it might inhibit his journey. After all the voice could bring help or calamity to Amphoreus…
‘Alright miss mystery figure, time to show your true colors..’
As Phainon waited he suddenly felt a rush of energy flow through him. He felt as though he had just awoken from a long sleep as countless images flowed through his mind. Pictures of his friends and even himself as stiff models, images of their conversations with subtitles at the bottom, or standing alongside people he’d never seen fighting enemies not native to any city-state in Amphoreus.
He held his head as the images stopped, beginning to feel dizzy he felt like he would pass out until he heard the voice again, this time clearer, and coming from his own head, “Yes! Phainon E1 and his signature lightcone! Now I just gotta add on all the artifacts I pre-farmed for him and I can test him out in combat!”
Phainon then felt his surroundings fade awake as he appeared in a strange space that appeared to be everywhere and nowhere at all. He heard the voice mention how excited they were to see him in combat and how his “animations” were so cool. He could gather from the images that flashed through his head what that meant.
As the voice began to “level him up” he could feel himself grow stronger, especially when they added in what they referred to as “artifacts.” He couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed as they suddenly gave him new clothes to wear, making him replace his shirt and shoes and add on a headpiece and gloves. He knew from the images he saw of them doing the same to Mydei that it wasn’t clothes in reality. From the voice’s perspective they were just adding things to his code without any change to his figure, still he felt exposed as he stripped to add on the new accessories.
Just as quickly as the space appeared so too did a form of combat just as he had seen, with him standing among four others. One of which he recognized as Hyacine, the other two being a man with a halo and a woman with a gun.
The battle proceeded just like the ones shown to him, with the voice guiding him and his “teammates” to fight the enemies in front of him. Unlike regular combat, which was continuous, these battles were based on turns, and certain moves could only be performed with a certain number of “points.”
Phainon could hear a squeal as his “ultimate” was activated, transforming him into Khaslana, a form he did not wish to remember. To mock him further anytime the ultimate ended the phrase, “Phainon enters the cycle once more,” would go across his body.
After seemingly having enough of fighting small enemies the voice brought Phainon back to the space. He began to feel a bit angry, all of his suffering was just for the entertainment of this voice? And for what? For a company to make money and others to mess around with? To his own dismay he knew the player was not at fault however, after all they would have no way of knowing what they were doing was hurting others.
For all their knowledge they were just having fun, and as evidenced by his friend’s confusion when questioned, he himself was at fault. His awareness must have been caused by some fault in his code, something that shouldn’t have occurred. He should have remained in ignorance like his fellow heirs, yet was cursed with the knowledge awareness brought.
As he began to spiral he started to cry, he knew this wouldn’t be able to be visible on the other side and would likely result in him performing an “idle animation.” Though to his surprise he could hear the voice in tandem with his emotion.
“Is he…crying? I don’t remember that being an idle…”
Phainon tilted his head up at this, ‘could this mean…no’ if what he thought he heard was true his fate might not be sealed. For if he was right he might be able to make contact with the voice, and maybe if he was lucky, you would save him.
There's something so funny about the idea of a sagau/sahsrau where your favourite character (or characters) manages to find a way into your world through your phone but the problem is, they cross over right when you're in the middle of an anime convention so now they're desperately trying to convince you that no, they're not just a really good cosplayer. Especially since if their powers don't work in your world, all they can do is use their words to convince you.
Using Scaramouche as a random example...
Y/n: Wow, your cosplay is so good. You look exactly like him!
Scara, getting increasingly annoyed by the second: For the LAST TIME your grace, I am NOT a "cosplayer". You seriously can't tell the real thing from all these fakes?
Y/n: ....
Y/n: Oh. Are you also one of those 'roleplayers' who get really into the character you're cosplaying?
Scara: ...You've got to be shitting m-
And if they try to point out that their physical features are different from the people in your world, and are indeed natural, imagine reader just stubbornly thinking that wow, this person is such a good make up artist. Are they a professional or something?
Scara: I HAVE NATURAL PURPLE HAIR AND EYES. What more proof do you POSSIBLY need?!
He exhales in frustration, pulling at his hair in annoyance which in turn lets you know that he's indeed not wearing a wig.
Y/n: Whoa...I've heard of people dying their hair to match their favourite character, but I looks even cooler up close! And your makeup is perfect, too.
Scara: I only have red eyeliner on!
Y/n: Huh...but it looks so convincing.
Y/n: Wait, *whispers* did...did you get some sort of cosmetic surgery to look like a fictional character...?!?!
Scara: ....
Scara: Why does all of Teyvat worship you, again?
Idk man, this was just a thought I had and I'm so amused by it lol.
