moonchildee

[moonchildee]

you looked only at his back. new symbols on his jacket. shabbat. you are sure that he felt your presence with all his being when you stayed behind him. people passed by you, flashing, but he never turned around.

you just tried to breathe through your nose before gathering your strength to finally turn away and go back into the crowd.

logo on your jacket, so old and familiar to both of you once. a completely different team. it wasn't even yours, you took it from him once to support his presence at the races. but now it didn't make sense.

you unbutton the lock on the jacket to take it off and put it somewhere near the benches, leave it on the handrails. feeling how the cold wind touches your skin, pierces your bones and slides under your T-shirt, which definitely does not warm you in this weather.

you're heading for the exit, leaving behind the roaring crowd waiting for the races, old friends and him.

him with whom you shared quiet evenings at his house. him who taught you to ride a bike. and his who filled your heart so much that he was sure that he took your heart with him when he left.

Vinny’s fingers slide over the fabric, carefully taking the sleeve of the jacket you left behind, which you left. he watches your body tremble in this not warm weather.

and he could take just a few quick steps towards you to catch up and throw at least this so that you are warm.

but he doesn't do it.

[moonchildee]

HEADCANONS! you are much shorter than him

Pairing: Vinny x reader

Note: for @wthphe1n!

as a reader who is below 160, met a tall guy. and then he became a boyfriend

the first time you met Vinny, he was still in the first Hummingbird team at the L.O.S. competition. You came there with your friends to watch the races. and when you saw him, you thought, "Damn, this guy is so tall, he could be a pilot."

it was your little childhood dream that you couldn't fulfill because you were too short.

so one day, when you went up to him to get an autograph, (or you just wanted to see the difference in your heights up close) you tapped the tips of your fingers on his back to get his attention. when Vinny turned, he was bobbing his head around trying to figure out what it was.

and only after your "I'm shorter" did he finally look down. he looked for a long time, as if trying to figure out who could be that small. he didn't even say anything when you silently pointed to the L.O.S. poster so he could sign it

and then you really saw how tall he was, the top of your head was about at the level of his shoulders.

when you took the autograph from him, you just muttered under your breath "seriously, this dude is so tall for a Korean, he could be a pilot like I wanted, is that legal?" or something like that. Vinny's eye just twitched as he leaned down to your level, "you could bite my ankles if you wanted to say it to my face."

he really heard you, damn it

you just rolled your eyes, tucking the poster into the pocket of your bag, careful enough not to crease the paper

you didn't think about approaching him in person anymore. you just came to the races, trying to stay close to your friends so you wouldn't get lost in the crowd. but one day you got separated from them, trying to slip through the crowd of people who constantly pushed your shoulders and bumped into you.

you wanted to cover your face with your hands and scream because some guy almost knocked you down. and when you almost fell, your forehead hit something warm, and someone's hands were on your shoulders. You should have looked up, Vinny.

“hey, you guy, you almost knocked her down, shouldn’t you apologize?” Vinny’s eyebrows were furrowed, and his fingertips were clenched on your arms. The guy, who hadn’t even noticed your presence, turned his head back to find you with your head down. He mumbled a quick apology before walking away, trying to avoid the big problem of a redhead.

After that, you felt the fabric of your hoodie tighten around your arm. Vinny was pulling you right behind him to get you out of the crowd that was going to watch the race in the front row

"Don't you know how dangerous a crowd can be for someone like you?" Your nostrils flare in indignation and anger at his words, what the hell.

"So you were here to save me?" You pull your hands away to put them in your pockets, raising your head high to meet his eyes. Vinny stands still for a couple of seconds, opening and closing his mouth, muttering under his breath, "I happened to see you there alone, so I followed you to make sure you didn't get hurt."

he frowns, again, but you can see the tips of his ears turn red, just a little, as he adds, "it's just a thank-you for the autograph."

and even if you were angry with him for the time he asked you to bite his ankles to be on the same level as you, you couldn't help but laugh. Vinny scratched the back of his neck, looking down, and you could have sworn that the corners of his lips twitched. "God, shut up."

After that, his presence became frequent.

you're used to finding his shadow falling on you from behind, silently, as you stand in line for drinks. you're used to him walking alongside you through crowds of people.

"isn't your race happening now?"

"what does it matter, you'll get hit before you reach the front rows because you can't see from the other seats"

and at some point it wasn't just about racing. one day when you opened the door to get your fried chicken you saw him in his pink helmet again. you reached out your hand, only to have the bag of your food lifted even higher, "learn to pilot to get your food"

damn it, you even started greeting Shelly and the other guys. because they all genuinely thought you two were a couple. to see the two of you together on L.O.S. or to hear Vinny's rare references to "shorty." You just waved your hands, blushing relentlessly, as he shouted that he would beat the crap out of Dom's head

and then it just came naturally into your life.

Vinny became a part of it.

taking items from the top shelves of the store that you couldn't reach even by standing on your toes, accidentally pressing against your back.

leaning his body towards your face so that you could clearly hear what he said or so that he could better see what you were showing him

and grab your wrist so you don't get lost in the crowd. but never by the hand. so when you intertwined your fingers with his one day, in a brief moment of silence, you felt Vinny twitch, and you saw him turn his head away from you, just so his red cheeks wouldn't be seen by you, but he never left.

you also lowered your head, continuing to walk alongside him, hand in hand, feeling your heart race. you knew exactly what it meant, and you felt yourself falling more and more in love with him

and after a lot of discussions with your friends, you finally gathered the courage to confess to him. You invited him to the park that same evening, walking alongside him through the empty streets of the alley, talking and asking more than usual to ease your anxiety. Vinny noticed right away, "It seems like you have a lot on your little mind. What are you getting at?"

You stop in your tracks, taking a short breath to look up and see him slightly hunched over next to you. you were silent for so long just looking at him that you could see him swallowing his own excitement

“hey? hey, do I have something on my face?”

"yeah" you nod to show two fingers to lean down to you, "lean down so I can remove this"

Vinny sighs through his nose, leaning down, trying to look anywhere but, finding the streetlights and plants incredibly interesting, until he suddenly feels a tug on the collar of his sweatshirt and a light touch of your lips on his

he's watching you the whole time, and you mumble that you like him, and you go back down from your tiptoes, and you put your head down, and you speed up your walk to get away from him. Vinny doesn't come to his senses right away, but when you pass a few streetlights along the way, he finally starts walking briskly towards you, catching up with you quickly enough.

"Listen, you little—" Vinny grabs you by the collar of your clothes, forcing you to stay in place and press your back against his chest. but he stops, doesn't say anything, and his entire being trembles as his heart beats erratically, and he opens and closes his mouth to say something to you

"you... you shouldn't run away after that," he say. you covering your face with your hands as if it would save you from feeling embarrassed. "I didn't run away," muffled by your hands on your face.

"It's not convenient," you stop and turn to him, his hand still holding your shirt, "What do you mean?"

"Standing on tiptoes every time, for someone like you, if you want to do it again."

And it seems that under the streetlights, your ears are steaming, while his face looks incredibly red. Maybe it's just a reflection of the light due to his hair color.

Vinny is not a romantic at all. at least that's what he said. but it seemed like you were convinced otherwise. he made all these unintentional gestures that you found romantic

you always noticed his presence when you needed help reaching the top shelves in the house or in the store.

you also noticed that he would grab your hand to pull you away from the road and hide you behind his back so you would be okay. or when you accidentally ran into a group of bad guys who liked to bother him. seriously, he would just cover your eyes with his hand because his palm was about the size of your face, or he would put his jacket over you so you couldn't see what was happening.

sometimes he compares the size of your hands when you're distracted. you might be telling him something, walking side by side, or just sleeping peacefully. Vinny would hold your hand, compare the length of your fingers to his, and squeeze your palm a few times to make sure you're really small.

or when you're teasing him. he might ask you to stop, but you keep going until his hands land on your cheeks. and then he freezes again, realizing how small you are and that he can hold you like this.

cross your fingers and trust that he used your head as an armrest for his hand, that's his limit in front of others

although at home he puts his chin on the top of your head when he's sitting next to you or when you could crawl into his lap.

Vinny really makes a lot of comments about your height.

"my back will start to hurt soon because of how often I lean over to you," "you wanted to be a pilot, didn't you? you could sit on my shoulders if you want to feel the sky a little closer," "do you have a little stool at home so you can reach at least for a mug? no? then why would a midget have a house with high ceilings?"

but he likes the difference in your height

Vinny would put a photo of your face on his phone wallpaper, which he took from above, from his perspective, so that you could see how you look in his eyes

one time he grabbed you by the armpits to lift you up and said "this is what the top shelves look like, remember that." you kicked his knees

when you praise him a lot, you always try to reach out to his hair to pat him. at first, he was so embarrassed by this, and he asked you not to do it because he's not a dog. but now, his body leans towards you on its own, even if he doesn't say anything.

when the two of you are sitting on the bench, Vinny slides down a little so that your faces are about the same level

Vinny is exactly the big spoon that covers your back in your sleep, wraps his arms around your waist and puts one arm under your neck so that his head is on the top of your head. he also curls his legs under yours, like in the fetal position. so in the morning you are always trapped and you can never wake him up. he'll just drag you to the other side of the bed, turn you over, but he won't wake up or let go, "you're so little, you need to sleep a lot to get a lot of energy."

Vinny genuinely enjoys teasing you about your height, lifting things effortlessly so you can't reach them, and placing sweets on a high shelf in the store. "We've already taken too much, so stop with what you have, dwarf."

But if someone else does it, you can feel their displeasure. Vinny will deny it and say that everything is fine, but the way he gets behind you to put his hand on your head and lean down to look at your companion is enough to tell you that you were right.

it seems to be something personal and intimate for him to have such a difference between you, just for the two of you

and his clothes. yes, damn it. they slide off your shoulders, hang, and you seem to become even smaller in them.

but you keep taking his things.

and Vinny keeps taking secret, smudged pictures on his phone when he sees you like this

sometimes he could take you by the waist to lift you up and call it piloting, lol

[moonchildee]

just imagine the idea of Vinny, the guy who runs the whole school, all the guys there are literally at his beck and call, his nickname is mad dog and he also has good grades, sitting behind you, you're between his legs, his soft voice whispering all these math formulas in your ear

"no, here you have to use the formula from the table to deal with the logarithm.. are you listening to me, right?"

he's right behind you, every time he speaks, his breath hits your skin, and his hands are always close to yours. when he accidentally moves his legs, he squeezes you a little with his hips

it's enough to make you feel cute and aroused

until you turn the tables and press his body against the table, forcing him to rest his bent elbows on the surface, throw his head back, and mumble your name incoherently every time you ride his hips

you lean your hands on his shoulders, push on his dick to sit down with a wet splash, bend your head to his ear "yes, I'm listening, so what did you stop at, Vinny, which formula should I use?"

and his eyes roll for the umpteenth time when you moan right in his ear, jumping right on him and squeezing his dick

[moonchildee]

I SUDDENLY TRANSMIGRATED TO A BLOODY THRONE WAR NOVEL AND I CAN’T GO BACK!

Yandere Crown Prince Phainon x Fem Transmigrated Reader

WARNINGS: obsessive and manipulative behaviors, depictions of violence, blood, slight gore, death of minor characters, non-consensual affection, phainon is delusional, parallels to amphoreus' storyline which can be considered as spoilers. YANDERE/DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 11.2k words.

ALSO CONTAINS: Isekai/transmigration themes.

One of these days I’m gonna put myself on a silver platter and serve it to Phainon.

You typed in your phone, gushing to your friend about the new update from the novel both of you had been following lately.

The Era Nova. An action-thriller novel about a charming crown prince thrust into a bloody game of court and throne. The story follows how Phainon, the crown prince with a golden heart, will navigate the dangers of the messy palace life, and how he shall succeed to finally become the emperor of the kingdom.

You were absolutely smitten with Phainon. First and foremost, the author surely did their best job at hiring good artists for the illustrations, because damn did they make justice of the ‘charming and handsome’ part of Phainon's character. Secondly, the gripping scenes of Phainon finally seizing the power from his enemies might've done something to your brain.

[Blue eyes suddenly flashed golden as he raises his sword and lays waste inside the throne room. What used to be regal figures now lie like broken statues, the red on their backs bleed farther than their capes.

Ascending from the blood of past kings, the new emperor, Phainon, has arrived.]

The words of the novel still stuck to your mind like glue, are you wrong for thinking that scene is just,

So hot?

phainon looked so YUMMY in the ending scene like the mask and cloak??? hmmm yes, and he makes even blood look good. wtf ur so real for that tho, but the ending's kinda sad don't you think? he'll be left alone in the palace far away from his people oh-

Maybe it's the way Phainon’s character is brought into the story, but he's this kind-hearted prince who transformed into an imposing ruler. The way his character hardened and developed pulled in your heartstrings. He brings conflict to your emotions, on how you loved his radiant and princely side, but at the same time is swept off your feet by his blinding majesty.

Must be the reason why you loved reading this novel. It seems that the author did a great job of stringing you, the reader, into Phainon's emotions and inner world. It makes you wish for the success of his plans in the story, but it also pains you to see him change as a price.

affected by literal fucking words and pixels, please save me from era nova, why can't i just pick a fav and go??? why do i also have to feel for them like please leave me alone he just wanted to be an appraiser and live normally with his people, why'd they have to do him like that ikr, like noooo phainon my sweet baby :( he succeeded but at what cost? :((((

Phainon ascends to the throne, the end. You saw this coming from a mile away, but actually seeing something that's been a part of your daily life for months finally concluding did hurt you a bit. There's a pang of emptiness, ah, the feeling of finishing a book and never hearing from that world again.

Sucks.

You'll probably get over it and find a new thing to fixate on soon, but for now you'll lament Phainon’s fate and think about the damn novel for a few more hours.

well becoming an emperor so suddenly sounds kinda lonely so if he needs a princess by his side im just here 🙏  girl, you'll die from the court shenanigans alone lol oof yeah u right [are you willing to do that?] fuck yeah lol, all in for PHAINON [heh, come here then] ??? it's 4am rn tho

Don't wanna go out yet. You're supposed to type, but suddenly you felt the most splitting headache you ever had the misfortune to feel. Your vision goes blurry and suddenly, everything's so dark.

★

You woke up to the fluttering of soft…lace?

Opening your eyes, you are faced with the soft swishing of the lacy fabric hanging up on the bedposts. The fabric dancing in the air caresses your face, the gentle touch of lace rouses you further from sleep. Wait, bedposts?

Realizing the anomaly in your room, you stood up. Well, tried to do so. Because your head suddenly feels like it's groaning in pain and so do you.

“Oh no miss! Don't stand up too fast, your head injuries might worsen!”

A brown-haired lady wearing a black dress with white apron suddenly ushers towards you. Her face is frowning, filled with as much worry as her frantic voice has.

White apron… like a maid outfit.

You stilled, brain churning for the last bits of the previous night. For one, you are texting your friend about Era Nova, second is that they asked you to ‘come to them’ at such an ungodly hour, and then… and then what?

“Master! The lady has awoken!”

What happened last night?

Your head suddenly throbs in pain again, it's akin to a migraine that suddenly surprises you when you least expect it. The difference though from an ordinary migraine is that this one seems to carry something.

A lot of things, memories to be exact, actually.

You are the only daughter of the count of this area. You are currently in your estate at Okhema, and that you had a bad fall at… some market?

More and more flooded to your head, some crystal clear memories and some are fuzzy, something bathed in yellowing lights — childhood memories. It doesn't clear itself though, as if it's decided that those are not of importance.

“My daughter… how do you feel?”

A voice interrupts your train of thoughts. There enters a man seemingly in his late forties. He's wearing clothes that seem to be out of a theater play you watched back then. His tall stature exudes elegance, something out of a regency drama.

Where are you exactly?

You didn't speak, mind running in different directions, different explanations and reasonings for whatever absurdity you are currently in as of now. Are you kidnapped? Did you get drunk last night and wandered to a TV set? Why would they play along then if that's the case? Is this a new, untapped-by-science side effect of combined lack of sleep and caffeine overdose?

All of your hypothesis sounds like it was spoken by insanity itself. Why would this happen? Is this real? Dozens of questions floated around your mind until it was cleared away by the same voice.

“My dearest, we have investigated the entirety of Marmoreal market and found no signs of the carriage that hit you. I'm deeply sorry for this news, but don't worry, father is not going to stop looking for…”

Your ‘father’s’ voice droned in and out of your ear, his words seem to be mixing and swirling into your senses.

Except for one.

Marmoreal. Then you also remembered one of the information bits that flooded to your brain, Okhema. You were so distraught earlier that you didn't process the memories itself, the familiar places and names suddenly makes sense, finally tracing back to their origin.

The Era Nova.

Marmoreal is the center of Okhema’s trade, a place where half of the story convenes because Phainon frequents this place so much. The kingdom that hailed him as one of their crown princes is Okhema.

Maybe it was really insanity who penned these events unfolding to you right now.

“Master, excuse my interruption, but my lady seems to be in great pain earlier, she may not be ready for that conversation,” The woman who you first saw when you woke up warily said to the man beside you. In your memories, she is your lady in waiting.

“Right, of course, please take care of her and make sure she rests.” 

The man leaves, the brown haired maid follows, telling you that she's going to fetch you soup and medicine.

Left alone in your thoughts, you only can look outside the window. Behind the branch where two songbirds are perched, singing a duet — lies the Marmoreal Palace, in front of your very own eyes.

Insanity, yes, this must be insanity.

There's no fucking way you just got isekai’d in your favorite novel.

★

Of all the things to read before your isekai trip, it had to be this dramatic thriller of a genre.

You sluggishly stood up after your maid left you with the soup and medicine. You walked towards an ornate mirror, something that looks like it belongs to a museum, not in a home.

With that in mind, you found out two things.

First is that your family is rich. Second is that despite being transmigrated into a fantasy, kingdom-themed novel, you still looked the same.

Yes, unfortunately, no waking up in the body of a pink-haired maiden with flawless skin and plump lips.

At least you're rich, right?

“Man, I wanna know what it feels like to have natural pink hair.” You sighed in front of your mirror. You do look a bit more radiant at least, as if you finally scrounged enough money to contact a dermatologist and do something about your eyebags.

Yes, yes, it might seem like you were just put on a dress for some play but at least your face looks clearer. A win is a win.

Going back, you repeatedly consider your family’s status. Rich and has a stable business? Then it is perfect. An unspoken rule in the isekai world is that, peace comes from not fucking around with the plot. It seems that you're in a lineage of businessmen, not royalty, so there's no reason for you to get tangled up in the bloody ‘court games’ that Era Nova is all about.

Gotta thank the plot for giving you some background on who you are in the story at least. Still, you've opted for pretending that you lost some of your memories, much to your family's horror — so that asking painfully obvious questions in case you forget something isn't too strange.

That, and also because you've seen this in many transmigration novels that you wanted to try it.

You probably should've stuck to something along the lines of romance or slice-of-life novels instead if you knew that this is going to happen.

All feels surreal, you never expected to experience being sent into the world of a novel. You thought isekai is just a fantasy genre you only read.

But alas, you're here now. There's no cameras or crew members revealing you're in a prank, a show, or something. It's been too long for that.

★

Crazy thought, but what if I try finding Phainon?

You suddenly think while you're in the bath, a pair of maids helping you scrub your body. It's been a few days since you got here. You did your best in adjusting, using the memories that were given to you and the books which, luckily, you can understand and read.

It also helps that you're proficient about The Era Nova back in the real world. You've been into forums and posts discussing the plot and the worldbuilding of this work. Save for the more innate traditions and customs, your knowledge about the events and how this kingdom came to be is more than enough for you to navigate in your daily life here.

In fact, you might be too proficient, because your butler let out a stray comment telling you that you have the potential to be a historian in the academy.

Your earlier thought about finding Phainon resurfaced again. Now that you think about it properly, it seems to be the stupidest idea you've made as of now.

No, no! Do not get involved with Phainon, he's the most direct, one-way ticket to the plot.

You didn't think further, instead you relaxed into the bath.

★

Thankfully, you have recovered. You think it's because your brain finally conjured all the memories it needed, hence your headaches had finally stopped.

Your father now also reluctantly lets you go outside again, but he strictly advises you to be careful, a long spiel of reminders and shoving at least two knights with you everywhere you go.

Wow, your family had knights.

Today, you're heading to the Marmoreal Market, where you're supposed to have been run over by a carriage before. You shivered at the thought, although nothing concrete came into mind when you tried remembering it.

Maybe it's mercy, who wants to remember that kind of pain?

Your carriage moves along the cobblestones. Estates, parks, ornate fountains and rows of wooden stalls pass by your window. Straight out of a fairytale kingdom. You couldn't believe your eyes, your heart was pounding. It's real, you're really here.

You only went out to have a closer look at the world you got thrown into. You knew what it's like in the novel, but seeing it in person is a whole ‘nother experience that cannot be replicated.

Today, you're going to investigate, but you guess it wouldn't hurt to explore Okhema too.

★

It's unfortunate that you only have two feet and can only go in a single direction at a time when the Marmoreal Market has a dozen pathways and shops calling your attention.

It's vastly different from the real world, that's for sure.

The colorful tapestries draped into the rooftops of each store weave a grand picture to your eyes. The goods displayed felt magical, even what's supposed to be simple bread sold in the west area looks like it's glazed in gold and the dresses hanging in the southern part all have intricate stitching that make the fabric feel alive.

Your eyes are twinkling in wonder. It felt like you were a kid again in an amusement park, the excitement on each turn of your head palpable. You took advantage of your sizable allowance and picked pastries and trinkets that interest you, those that seem otherworldly that you'll probably never see again once you go back.

Right, what about going back to the real world?

Magic exists in the story of The Era Nova. One of the shops here sells magical items. It's your main objective for the day. The concept of other worlds could still be seen as strange, but it's worth a shot, you think.

When you finally reach the shop, it's unassuming at first, only a crooked wooden signage and an old wind chime greet you when you lay your eyes on its facade, but what's inside is completely different.

Rows and rows of shelves filled with various jars and knick-knacks welcomed you. It's like you stepped into the set of Alice in Wonderland. The line of shelves leads to a counter, a single woman faces you, her little corner filled with hanging plants and more trinkets.

The woman on the counter only stares at you. At first you think it's strange, but remembering that you're inside a novel cuts off that thought. Maybe it's normal here. In most novels, characters that have to do something with magic tend to be a bit mysterious and quirky anyway.

You continued browsing, eyes looking for strange artifacts that could be connected to how you can go home. It feels like a shot in the dark as you have no idea what could be considered ‘a strange artifact’ because all of these things are foreign to you.

As you collect your courage to just straight up ask the bizarre questions of ‘portals’ and ‘other worlds’ to the woman on the counter, a flicker catches your attention.

A hand mirror, it's embellished with small golden suns and silver moons on its frame. The handle is just the same, with a bigger sun and moon eclipsing at the center.

But the design isn't what catches your attention, it's what's within the mirror itself. Because instead of reflecting the shop’s interior — it's reflecting the inside of your real world bedroom instead.

You nearly jumped towards the glass display it's being held in. The woman on the counter stares at you before giving a somewhat pitied look.

“It's a great piece, but unfortunately that's reserved for a special customer.”

Your heart drops at her statement. No, no way, this could be the key to going home. You're going to have this one, even if you have to put trade offers that are disadvantageous to you. As you were about to open your mouth to argue, you were interrupted by a chime.

“Lord Phainon, are you here for your reservation?”

“Yes, thank you for keeping it for me.” A man — no Phainon, walks into the counter. If your heart dropped earlier, it's now currently digging itself lower than the ground. Of all people, it just had to be him.

The woman walks past you and into the glass display. She grabs the mirror and heads into a door hidden by plants. This leaves you awkwardly standing beside the Phainon.

“It's rare to see other customers here, I'm starting to think that I’m the only one who knows of this place honestly,” Phainon casually starts off. You shouldn't be surprised at his friendly demeanor as you've read about it a thousand times already, but that friendliness directed to you makes your heart race at a dizzying speed. 

Snow-white hair that's slightly tousled, the striking blue eyes, like it's twinkling as he smiles. His tall stature is more obvious due to the small space but his stance is relaxed as he watches over you, the differences in your height just perfect enough to display the golden sun on his neck at your eye level. There's no denying, it's really Phainon in the flesh, and the novel did not lie, he's the most charming and radiant person you've seen in the entire time you're here.

Oh dear, he's so beautiful.

You would've gushed about him more if it weren't for the silence that's hanging over you and the current situation about that mirror.

“Ahh… yeah this store is… really interesting!” The response came as awkward as you can imagine, although Phainon didn't seem to mind as he chuckled and continued the conversation.

“I know, right? The shop’s filled with so many antiques and magical devices that I couldn't imagine how long it would take to appraise them all, they seem endless and that's what draws me here,” His tone is cheery, a smile spreading across his face.

You nearly forgot that Phainon has a hobby of collecting antiques and appraising them.

The lady comes out of the room carrying a box — presumably the mirror with your room in it inside. She hands the box to Phainon, but her stare never leaves you.

“Miss if you'd like, we have more hand mirrors and other displays-”

“Oh, is the lady over here interested in this mirror too?” Phainon suddenly interrupts the lady, who answers his question with a nod.

“Actually… I really wanted to check this specific mirror,” you softly said, might as well whisper with how quiet it went out of your mouth.

“My, I didn't expect to make a lady sad today. Unfortunately, I did reserve this a week ago… and I’m kind of expecting this piece — but! If you'd like, you can join me in appraising this, you said you wanted to see it closely right?” He offers, his smile widens as he turns to you, seemingly proud of his solution.

Oh no, he has such a nice smile.

Who could say no to that?

You take his offer.

★

In the first place, why do you still want to go home?

You woke up in a world filled with magic and whimsy, a world that looks like it has your dreams for its foundation. From a fantasy novel to a daily occurence.

So why?

Maybe it's because despite being physically here, you never really belonged. The monotonous voice that calls out to your ‘parents’, the practiced greetings, and the feeling of disconnect from your very self.

It's like you're just playing a role.

A role you cannot take seriously. Because back there, you have a life, a pretty boring one but it's yours. You're wondering if your cat is fed back home, you're thinking about your friend who wanted to meet up that day, and is your family worried? What about your real body? And your phone.

Oh you miss the glorious internet even for all its flaws. Maybe you wouldn't be as lost here if search engines existed.

The thoughts barrage your supposed peace of mind again, which is why you broke your promise of not getting involved with Phainon. 

You need to see that damned mirror.

Isn't it funny how things are progressing just like an actual isekai novel? Because you do remember a few titles that had the protagonist promising to stray themselves off of the plot only to get plunged right in the middle of it moments later.

You mentally swatted the thought. 

Because unlike the romance novels you've seen, the main driving force of this story is violence and revenge. Phainon succeeded in the story by removing all that tried stopping him. If you make a mistake — get too entangled, you might just get yourself extremely hurt.

There's a hypothesis that if you were to die in an isekai, your soul might just go back to reality. It's a hypothesis that you wish to not prove by looking for alternative paths instead, but if all comes crashing down, you'd rather have your death not by a weapon.

But… there's the alternative already right? Maybe getting a bit involved with the main character is a small price to pay for that. If the mirror proves to be the way of going home, then your involvement with Phainon would have no way of going any further.

So here you are, meeting the very man himself. The Sun of Okhema and the star of The Era Nova, Phainon.

You're not one for lying to yourself, you're a little too excited about seeing Phainon again. He’s totally your type, and if you're as headstrong as those female leads in isekai, you might've even risked it for him.

Well, you're not, and you want to go home now.

“Over here, my lady!” A loud voice beckoned you. With how cheery it sounded, you knew it's definitely Phainon even without looking.

He's wearing casual attire, too casual. White dress shirt that’s a little too sheer, and plain black slacks that go straight down to his leather shoes that's studded with small golden bits on its straps (which you found out are small suns as you walk closer to him). For all the straightforwardness of his outfit, the black choker that wraps around his neck stands out.

You see, you have no qualms about his clothing choices, but the sheer fabric is quite literally framing his muscles to all its glory and you’re a teeny tiny bit flustered. The choker isn't helpful either, as that leads your stare on his neck and jawline instead.

Ah self, pardon my bullshit just this once, not everyday you see the man of your dreams.

You swallow your embarrassment and approach him. You've opted to just a simple wave, but Phainon had other plans — he grabs your waving hand gently kisses it, his eyes never leaving you.

Well, shit.

“Oh? Was that too direct? Apologies, it's a common courtesy here so I just got used to it,” Phainon suddenly retracts himself when he sees your half open mouth.

“No, no, it's fine! Don't worry about it,” You responded almost too quickly, “Anyways, so…”

“The mirror, yes?”

“Yes, yes, the mirror! Can I have a look at it?” Now that you listen closely, it seems weird that you're so eager to ask for someone else’s personal belongings, but for the sake of your trip back home, you're willing to just swallow your pride for now.

“Hmm… no?” Phainon playfully answers, the smile on his face growing.

“Ah?” You could only utter that syllable. Did he finally catch on how weird this entire thing is?

“What I mean is not yet, we have to appraise it first.”

You could only stare at him dumbfounded before laughing it off. Phainon has a hobby of appraising antiques, this is one of his most highlighted quirks in the novel as he wishes to finally break free from his royal duties and work as a full-time appraiser. 

Unfortunately, he has to let go of that dream after bearing the crown in the ending.

So as an avid reader and a fan of Phainon, you just let him talk your ear off about the intricate carvings of the mirrors and what tool could have been used in making them. 

Just this once Phainon, because in the upcoming years, you'll have bigger worries than telling me the approximate age of this hand mirror.

You smile at how enthusiastic his voice sounded, but as he got into explaining the mirror itself, the entire thing started to feel off.

The mirror, which showed you your old bedroom, now suddenly feels… too normal. Plain. Nothing.

Back in the shop, it's eye-catching. Not only because it showed your real world, but also because the object itself seemed to be calling out your attention. 

But right now, as Phainon traces his fingers on the embellished grooves, it feels nothing, like the magic sucked out of it. The suns and moons are now just ordinary embossing on the thing’s surface.

You and Phainon are currently sitting on a bench just right outside the palace. The two of you might've sunk too deep in conversation that the lamp posts that towers you are already lit up. The skies are blurring into orange blue tones.

“Oops, I got carried away. But I hope the lady is satisfied with my appraisal? Hopefully I was able to give you the closest look to it.”

Phainon moves closer to you, before gently putting the hand mirror to your lap. 

“It's yours now, a gift, you're the only one who listened this long,” He grins, before standing up and offering his hand, “It's nightfall now, so I will walk you to your carriage.”

The two of you walked across the streets that's starting to liven up. Stalls are being set, with vendors hanging up lights and signages. The kids are running around, the adults sighing behind them. It seems like a bazaar is being set up.

A bazaar?

[As night befalls, the festivities rose. In between the hanging lights and the rows of wooden stalls, lies a plot turned against Phainon.

The assassin waits, a rifle at hand. The people flow until they fill the crevices of the bazaar. In the mind of the hunter, a flock of panicked sheep will cover the fallen prey long enough for him to get away.]

“Fuck was that today?” You whispered to yourself, which earned a curious look from Phainon.

Assassinations. This is what you're talking about as danger and Phainon go hand in hand. Of course, one less royal is one less contestant to the crown.

And now, you might've gotten yourself involved at just the perfect timing to be right beside him when he's supposed to be shot from above.

Phainon did survive this in the novel, but you're not quite sure if you would. The two of you are heading closer to the bazaar when you decide to do your last-ditch effort at distracting him.

You ran towards a little girl selling flowers and bought whatever flower catches your eye, it so happens to be a bunch of hyacinths.

You didn't even collect your change from the girl when you walked back to Phainon and handed him the flowers. “Uhh.. I just wanted to give these to you, thanks for today, Phainon!”

Right, he wanted to buy flowers in the bazaar that day.

“Oh and also, let's just take a detour, the bazaar lights kinda make me dizzy… unless you need to buy something there?” 

“No, I don't need anything… thank you too.” Phainon answered. Thank god it worked.

Right in front of you, Phainon is smiling softly, staring at the bunch of hyacinths that are now in his hands. He has the prettiest smile, wish he could keep that.

As the two of you walked to your carriage, it started to slowly sink in that maybe Phainon is not just a character, at least not right now, because that smile felt real.

You hope the assassin gets tired of waiting.

★

When you sat down in the carriage to collect your thoughts, you noticed a few things that were a bit wrong. 

In the flurry of your thoughts and emotions earlier, there's one thing you'd miss — the honorifics. Despite him being a complete chatterbox, he's still a prince, and never once in your entire conversation had you referred to him as such.

Oh god, does he now think I’m disregarding his status like the other nobles and royals that are against him?

You've known that your family are businessmen, but you only recently found out that you're prominent ones. Your nobility goes far and wide in Okhema, your family's influence in trade could certainly be used as leverage to the likes of Phainon.

Oh no, I hope I’m not on his hitlist yet, I didn't mean to disrespect him.

Now that you mention it, you might've acted suspicious because of your fixation on that mirror. And now, you also feel bad for trying to claim something he technically owns, knowing his background in the story. 

You comforted yourself with the fact that it's his idea to meet like this though, also his idea to let go of the antique, but you now can only hope that it's a genuine meeting and not some sort of test for the weird daughter of the biggest business man in the city.

Right, he did give me the mirror.

You propped up the thing that led you in this situation. An antiquated mirror, which now should've shown you your real world, if your hypothesis was right.

But just like earlier, it doesn't even feel magical or even interesting, as if the mystique that led you to it was knocked straight out of it.

“Fuck, don't tell me that I was only hallucinating back when I was in that shop… to think that I might've made Phainon uncomfortable and pressured him into giving this up, ugh.” You buried your face in your palms, sighing deeply.

A thought popped into your head — the Academy. The Grove of Scholars do have a few mages in their ranks, they're the teachers of magic in this world. Maybe they could help you identify whatever's in the mirror.

Alright, let's make use of this thing, sorry Phainon, but it's a gift now isn't it?

★

The academy in this world is bizarre.

It sits atop of a ginormous tree that towers the entire field. Its branches envelop the surrounding area, in them, different buildings are encased, which can be accessed by the winding pathways that wrap around the trunk.

The tree isn't really the most bizzare thing to you though, it's the stairs. There's special devices scattered that could bring you to the various facilities of the grove, but stairs are still the predominant way of moving around here.

“I'm not built for this thing… is this why they always make the art for those scholar characters bulky despite them claiming they're feeble?” You sat down on one of the staircases. You checked back on your bag and saw that the hand mirror was still there, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you new here, miss? Haha, yes the grove has a lot of stairs, but once you enroll here, you'll get used to it!” A bubbly voice suddenly comes beside you.

“Oh, hello! Yes… it's embarrassing I get tired this easily, I'm not here to enroll though, I'm just here to inquire about an antique.” You answered the pink-haired girl.

Her smile brightens and she shows you a badge, it's the same as the academy’s.

“Oh, I'm a student here, miss, rest assured that I'm knowledgeable enough though. If you want to tell me about it, maybe I can save you from climbing further up there!”

You take her kind offer and tell her everything you've noticed about the mirror you're holding. She asks you to put it in her hands, and after a few moments her answer comes to you.

“There's not a single trace of magic in here.”

You should've known, but you still felt quite disappointed. What was that back in the shop then? Delusion?

“Oh… I see, well good thing you're here, I might've gone up there only for nothing.” You can only laugh softly at her.

“Well, my professor's lab is there, so even if the mirror turns out to be a fake, you can still ask him about your theories regarding the portal. Don't worry, he won't think it's weird!”

“Also…” The cheerful voice suddenly turns into a whisper, “If you're planning to sell this thing, it might not be worth much.”

“Oh, uhm, I’m not going to sell it… but why wouldn't it be worth much?” You looked at her slowly.

“The mirror is tampered, or probably recently restored, the glass is new. It's not entirely an antique if there's new parts right?”

★

[Broken, bloody pieces of what used to be a fair hand mirror lie messily on the carpeted floors. The golden eyes staring at it only blinks.

The eyes move back onto the table, the metal that used to carry the glass is facing him. The man’s bloody hand, one where some shards are still buried in its skin, carefully caresses the embossed suns.

He then picks up a round piece of mirror, the crafting skills he picked up from his adventures made it so that the foreign piece would fit perfectly in the hollow space the old one left.

If not for keen eyes, it would've looked like it belongs there just fine.]

★

You just woke up, but you feel like going back into the darkness of your sleep.

And stay there for a long, long time.

Because in front of you is a maid. She's an ordinary maid, if not for the blue and gold envelope in your hands.

“His highness Phainon wishes to formally meet you in his estate. Today. Should I prepare your bath and clothes while you eat breakfast?” There's a hint of a smile on her face.

But not yours.

Because you think that this might've been your end. The words his highness sting you. Ah yes, the royalty and their titles, what could go wrong.

But the envelope is already there. For a split second, the idea of just chucking it down the fireplace and running to the countryside like those villainesses sounded good in your head, but you soon came to realize that declining a royal might just pose more misunderstandings.

Let's just hope he lives up to his novel persona and I'll be able to plead with him.

★

You're kind of disappointed in yourself.

For someone who's a ‘self-proclaimed The Era Nova specialist,’ you judged Phainon way too quickly.

It feels more awful seeing his closed-eye smile directed at you.

No, he didn't execute you or put you under some royal decree. What he did do is literally thank you for buying him flowers that night and served you the most fragrant (and probably expensive) tea you've ever had.

“Sorry for the sudden invite, I was just excited to finally have a friend here.”

“Ah… yes, of course, I'm happy to have met you too, your highness-” This time you made sure to not forget, but he only frowned at this.

“So formal now, aren't we?” He looks at you with what seems to be puppy-dog eyes and your heart flips.

“Did I… have I offended you that night? I'm sorry-”

“Oh no! No you didn't, I don't care much about titles like that anyway… plus even if I do, it's not your fault, you're not used to it, right?” He quickly exclaims, trying his best to prove your thoughts about that night wrong.

Used to it?

“Anyways, please don't think of this meeting as anything else aside from a simple chat with a friend.” He smiles again, “Oh, the biscuits ran out, let me fetch some more, if you excuse me.”

He saunters to the door, leaving you alone in his office. You suddenly feel smaller when you realize where you are. Is it really okay for him to bring a stranger to such a place?

He even personally fetched snacks for you, as in the novel, he's used to doing things on his own. It's because he grew up to do so, because he's raised to be alone. 

But he never brought that up against anyone, instead he just considers it as a way of showing sincerity to those around him, personally attending to them and being ‘a friend’. These things about him make him such a warm character. You feel the worst for being distant to him.

You should've known that he probably never had anyone listen to his long-winded explanations about his antiques or just have a simple chat that doesn't involve royal politics. He's always been described in the novel as a free-spirited and cordial fellow after all.

But hopefully, he doesn't blame you for putting up walls. He was at the center of all in this novel, all the good and the bad. You just wanted to enjoy your stay here and go back home. You cannot risk being tied to him.

All these thoughts had you fiddling your necklace that's made with a rare pearl only found in the deepest parts of the sea. The thing is incredibly expensive. So when the pearl suddenly detaches from the chain, you pray Phainon takes longer and crawled to the floor to retrieve it.

You think you've hit an all-time high stress level when you feel a sharp pain in your palm. As you're skittering around the sofa, you manage to feel the pearl underneath it, what you didn't notice is the shard of glass sitting beside it.

It was too late when you felt it after unknowingly pressing down on it to catch the pearl. You sat back down on the sofa, carefully dropping it to your purse.

You held onto the glass shard though. The piece emanates a strange sheen to it, as if it's glowing.

Suddenly, the mirror flickers, a bright light reflects on it for a few seconds before disappearing.

No way… are all the mirrors in this world weird?

“Hey I'm back…?” You turned your head towards Phainon, who's carrying a plate of various biscuits and sweets. You hurriedly shove the shard in your purse too.

Phainon's stare darkens and you gulp. Shit did he see me crawling around in his office right after he trusted me to be left alone?

“Wait, so-”

“Your hand is bleeding, what happened?” Phainon quickly ran towards you. He set down the plate and pulled a snow-white handkerchief from his pockets. He gently wiped the blood which you hadn't noticed, had trickled to your fingers. He also patted closer to the wound, which made you wince.

“Wait, my pendant fell and I went to retrieve it, but I must've pressed my hand on a sharp edge… thank you for wiping it, I didn't notice the blood.” You alter the story a bit, not wanting to alert him about you taking something from his home, even if it's a mere mirror shard.

“I see… there's a washroom down the hallway, let me bring you there.” He stops dabbing at the wound, he then helps you up, the worried look on his face now lightened.

★

If you hadn't known, you would've thought that Phainon's estate is the Palace itself.

What's supposed to be a simple walk into the washroom turned into sightseeing for you. The hallways are magnificent, something you thought you'd only see in movies. The interior of the entire place is entangled in gold. There's also sculptures and antiques, which you're guessing are a part of Phainon's collection.

The washroom is covered in dark blue, which makes the marble of the sink stand out. As you dip your hand into the basin, you unconsciously looked into the mirror and met with Phainon's stare.

“Your estate is magnificent, your hi- ah, Phainon.” You mentioned, trying to stave off the awkwardness of him staring like a hawk while you clean your wound.

“Hmm, family passed it down to me, gift from the emperor.” Phainon continues. His body leans to the doorway, eyes still in your hands.

“I see… Do you live alone? Sorry if it seems prying, but I haven't seen another soul ever since I got here.”

He lives alone. You think. In the novel, while Phainon is presented to be this outgoing boy, he actually leads a secluded life. He chose to live alone in an estate to distance himself from the palace. But it would be weird if you acted like you knew.

“No, it's not prying, and yeah, I live alone, quite lonely if you ask me.” He walked towards you when you finished, grabbing your hands and gently drying it with a wash towel. He then wraps your palm in thin gauze, the actions making your cheeks heat up.

“Apologies if it seems sloppy, I haven't really done this to anyone aside from myself.” He murmurs.

“No, no, it's fine! Thanks a lot, Phainon.”

The two of you walk back to his office, there's still biscuits to finish and stories to tell, after all.

★

[For all he could remember, he's always been alone.

A child born from a loveless marriage, only brought to this world to fight for a piece of embellished metal. There was a time when he had friends and such, but it's a time long gone as what's only left now is a hollow manor he calls his home.

It's a lonely gift, devoid of anyone who cares. It's a cage in a sense that what's only keeping him here is the promise of a crown. If he could, he would've left in a heartbeat, but all he ever built up will be left in waste too.

So you cannot blame his anguish when he found out that his hardships were only written for entertaining an otherworldly audience. That one fateful evening where his magic uncovered the reality of his sad, lonely world.

But there was someone.

Who kept flipping the pages of his story, the one who laughed when he did, cries when he does. Curiosity led to observation, and suddenly, he didn't seem too alone.

He kept track of you in the reflection of waters, in dreams, in mirrors. Sometimes your words would be heard in his head, sometimes you're like an apparition in his walls.

But all that's important to him is that you're his devoted reader. A dedicated audience to this woeful farce.

He saw the ending, the bloodshed in the throne room, the crown and the new reign. He laughs, because it was framed as a victory, it's ironic — because all the nights he wished he was just born an ordinary boy ultimately ends up with him being farther away from it.

He’s not going to stray away from it though, he doesn't think he can, he's too deep to ever go back up. But he's still a lonely man, so when his magic finally transcends barriers, he couldn't help but ask you a question.

“Are you willing to do that for me?”

Your agreement is all that mattered, as he's hurriedly scribbling in the tattered book he found somewhere. The book lists itself as ‘The Era Nova’, but Phainon did not care about what anomaly made him aware of the universe’s truth, all he could care about is your new identity written in frantic scribbles.

Your soul feels nice. It's the only thing he could come up with when you came to him. It's like you truly loved him.

It's dark in his office. He couldn't believe a few hours ago you sat within the same room. He thanks the assassin sprawled out dead in the dungeons of this estate, his foolish plots gave him a reason to bring you here.

And a reason for you to save him, to show him you truly care for him. The handkerchief in his nose smells of faint iron. He could only apologize in his head for leaving you to hurt.

But he hopes you'd understand a desperate man’s attempt of making his predetermined ending feel better.]

★

You made it this time.

This time, you didn't whine about the academy's preference of stairs, instead you ran as fast as you could to a laboratory, in hand a broken piece of mirror. Your mind being more focused on the questions that lingered after your discovery at Phainon’s estate probably helped in obscuring the effects of running up at around five floors (to your estimation, at least). 

When you reached the metal doors of the lab, you didn’t even knock, you only barged in, meeting the gazes of the pink-haired scholar who helped you last time and her so-called professor who’s sporting a peculiar eyepatch. The man did not seem to mind though, as he only sighed and mouthed a ‘told ya’ to his student. The said student only awkwardly smiled and ushered you further inside the room.

“When my dear student told me about your small predicament last time, it honestly piqued my interest. I had always heard of theories about portals and such, but this is my first time actually hearing about it as an experience rather than a hypothesis. Well then, I presume what’s in your hand is the experiment sample then?” The professor with the dead stare did not even spare that to you, his eyes are only trained towards the shard that’s nearly piercing through your skin.

“Don’t mind his bluntness, my teacher is a reliable scholar first and foremost, you can entrust him with studying about this seriously, especially since he’s very interested in it. I will also be sharing the progress transparently, so don’t worry. Now, if you don’t mind, you can loosen up your grip on that broken glass, it might pierce you…again.” The scholar’s eyes trail on your bandaged hand, her gentle words made you drop the mirror into the table, your fingers pushing it towards the professor.

“If my deductions are on the right track, alchemy might be able to replicate this kind of glass. If you would give me time to construct, I’ll be sure to leave your name into the papers I will produce about this. Hehe, imagine the looks on those fools’ faces once they realize that I am, once again, correct.” He muttered, attention now more focused on assessing the shard rather than in your conversation, with that in mind, you relent from asking further questions and just trusting their words.

“If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know. Thank you for this new knowledge, kind lady.” The pink-haired scholar assures you, escorting you out of the room, it’s probably because her mentor’s starting to open five cabinets at once now. Yeah, I’ll leave that guy alone too.

“If all of these end up right and the mirror or whatever portal is made, please give me a chance to use it.”

“Of course! I thought I’ll have to drag some poor scholar down or myself in that but it’s nice to know that someone is willing to play guinea pig in this experiment.” A voice from the inside suddenly rings out.

The two of you outside the door chuckled at that.

★

Just like in the real world, learning facilities at nighttime are eerily quiet and give off a strange chill the longer you stay.

The leaves surrounding the grove are rustling along the wind’s howls. You’re starting to regret your decision of not waiting until tomorrow morning to visit. You couldn’t blame yourself though, it was the closest lead you had to going back home, but running here at nightfall wasn’t the brightest idea you had for the day.

All the scholars are probably within their dormitories now or have already gone home. The likes of that professor are stuck within the highest floors that contain their laboratories. 

If anything were to happen, nobody will be fast enough to get you out.

What the hell? Shut up. You reprimanded your unnecessary thoughts. In fact, you need to tackle a few questions that are plaguing your mind first.

Why did Phainon have this kind of item, a broken one at that, just littered on his floors. Wasn’t he a bit fussy of his collection in the novel? Why wouldn’t he notice if one of them is broken?

More popped up in your mind, unfortunately, it’s all questions and no answers.

If I’m correct, this glass belongs to that mirror he gifted me. But it’s intact, is this from another item? Another magic portal item or something?

Then, the scholar’s words rang loud and clear; “It's tampered.” 

Did Phainon…break the mirror? Did he restore it because he was too embarrassed? Or was he someone who doesn't mind alterations on his antiques?

A stupid sounding thought broke out at the back of your mind.

Did he break it because he knew something was up?

Suddenly, a breeze passes by your shoulders. At first. At first it was only a breeze, but when you looked to your side, you suddenly felt something on the other. A fabric, just brushing close enough to feel in your skin but light enough to make you question if it's real.

But now you're sure it's real, because a few moments you hear pieces of metal clanging. You looked in front of you, and just like those apparitions in horror movies, there's a figure at the end of the dimly lit hallway.

A tall figure, donned in a black cloak and armored in swirling metal plates. A mask sits inside its hood. Its fingers covered in plated claws and its chest appear to be hollow.

He looks familiar.

You stop in your tracks, senses on high-alert. He's probably the one who brushed past you and if that's correct, then he's extremely fast. No use in outrunning him then, better just keep an eye out on his movements or sources of help.

The figure also stops and stares at you. Your stand-off lasted for a short while until it tilted its head,

And waved.

At least that's what you think it did before it suddenly vanished before your eyes, nowhere to be seen or felt again.

★

Phainon has developed a habit of sending you random letters and various trinkets he got from his travels.

He also loves to initiate meetings and tea times with you. At first, you're happy to attend each and every one of them, but as time goes on, you start to question his fondness for inviting you at least every other day. 

Not that you doubt him, at least not too much — you knew his tendencies to latch on to things due to his upbringing, but you can't help but question his true motives when he just invades your personal time as if you're not an acquaintance he just met recently.

You learned to decline his invitations. You really liked his character, but you're unsure of whether you can handle being involved with him as a person. He's on his way to becoming the ruler of this vast kingdom and you're supposed to be on your way home, so not much should happen.

The invitations thinned out, albeit gradually. He still sends a lot of trinkets — such as small woodworks of cute animals and magic lamps, which are now starting to pile up on your work desk, but the letters and requests to meet do not overflow from the holder anymore. He appears to have gotten the message.

You want to go home. Sure, you loved this place and the magic it has, but the gnawing anxiety of the life you left back there is haunting your days here. If you're going to get yourself thrown into another world, you want to at least make amends in your previous one.

Speaking of going home, you're currently staring at a letter. The pale green envelope stares back, proudly displaying the logo of the academy on its seal. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for whatever the results will show.

Greetings, My Lady

I’m pleased to inform you that I was able to recreate the material you brought here last time. It was truly a magnificent experience…

The light in your eyes sparkled. I can finally go home. Your cheeks hurt grinning. You looked up to your ceiling, mentally saying farewells to the place that took you into this world.

You continue reading.

“...but unfortunately, a huge accident happened within the academy. A cloaked assailant sneaked within the grove and hurt a few scholars, aside from that, it seemed to be targeting this specific experiment. I saw with my own eyes how it shattered the mirror, almost pulverizing it. I was able to retrieve a few samples and escape but I am not sure if I'll be able to recreate it as fast…”

Now, this is why they say never celebrate too early. Disappointment eats you up, causing you to just chuck the letter away. Not time for farewells yet, you suppose.

But one thing caught your attention. Cloaked figure. That night, you also saw a figure with a similar description.

Black…cloak?

Phainon.

Many scenes of the novel involve Phainon disguising himself in a black cloak. When he assassinated the other royalty in that throne room, he was wearing a black cloak.

“Shit, why didn't I remember that sooner?” You uttered, almost inaudibly. You've been focused on going the past few days that you have forgotten the details of the novel. 

Phainon might just be the reason you're failing your attempts at returning home, and you just let yourself be too involved with him.

★

Lately, instead of you, only letters of your declines have been reaching his doors.

Phainon is growing frustrated at the replies he received. Just as when he thought the two of you were getting closer, you just had to start distancing yourself.

Did you find out something?

He laughs sardonically, his hands covering his right eye that's now turning golden due to the sudden influx of magic. He looks down at his table, the paper now ruined, too much ink seeped into it. Of course you denied it again, and somehow managed to send it to him as he's writing another invite.

He can feel it, your soul wavering. When he first brought you here, all he felt was pure amazement and curiosity from you, but now he can feel doubts and fatigue too.

“Can't you… just- ah.” He slumps his head, turning towards the small figurine he carved earlier. It's a figure of two lovebirds, perched on a small throne while nuzzling each other. Both of them were wearing a tiny crown on their heads.

Really, he tried carving your likeness more times than he'd like to admit, but there's something about you that makes it so hard for him to be satisfied with just carvings. Whatever he makes doesn't live up to his image of you in his head — feels fake, feels cold. So he just opts to present your likeness as animals and things he's fond of.

Nowadays, Phainon has been fantasizing about you joining him on his journey.

So when he felt your soul trying to break free from this world, he couldn't help but silently beg you to stay and not leave him to be alone in this world again.

★

Please, be my partner. There is an upcoming ball to the palace, you're the only one I can trust.

You never expected such a heavy statement coming from him, especially not after you just tried to keep him at an arm's length. You've even reached a point of telling him off. There was stirring conflict within you, Phainon clearly appears to be invested in your friendship, but at the same time, you're uncertain of what kind of plot he'll bring into your already bizarre situation.

However, if you keep declining him time and time again, it'll appear unusual. The two of you started on good terms, suddenly abandoning him could be seen as rude and might just make him ask more questions.

And frankly, you're running out of believable reasons for declining him.

So you push yourself up and ask the maids for help. You'll humor him this time, maybe even get to ask him why he's so dead set on sticking close to you.

★

The carriage ride to the palace is a peaceful little thing.

You looked out to the town square, the awe of being in another still hints at you, but you've gotten used to the sights by now. All your attempts at steering away from the plot ironically ended up with you driving right through the center of it.

Everything with the palace screams imposing, it's a marvelous place, but it does a good job of making you feel small. Luckily, not a lot of guards are stationed to stare down at your minute existence. But the few ones who were are staring at you oddly.

You went through normal procedures and you're escorted to the grand doors. It's closed. 

On your way here, there have been a multitude of red flags raising left and right. Firstly, it's quiet, not a single peep, not befitting of such a proud place. And for all the palace’s vanity, there's no other visitors of the same caliber, in fact there's no other visitors at all.

There was no ball.

That's your final observation. You don't know what you did so, so wrong in your stay here, but Phainon has reached a new point where he straight up lies to get your attention now.

What was so important about meeting you? When all he talks about when the two of you have your little tea parties are idle topics not worth making a palace this grand deserted.

The guards opened the door, and you're right, it's absolutely empty. There's supposed to be an option to go back, but the men outside had conveniently closed it off before you could say anything.

He really, really wants to talk, huh?

You march down deeper into the building, hoping that guesswork and acquired knowledge from the novel could bring you towards the prince’s quarters.

But before you could even reach the third set of winding hallways, you heard a loud scream coming from the central part of the floor. You froze, cold sweat forming in your temples. No, it couldn't be today right? Your heart pounds loudly, you can feel the beating in your ears.

Too early, it's years too early.

Phainon ascending to the throne couldn't be today, hell, it couldn't be this year. Because he's not yet prepared. He bought support from various kingdoms before the ascension, it's an integral part of the novel’s worldbuilding. From what you've heard from him, he only traveled within Okhema the past months.

So it shouldn't be today right?

One scream, two screams. Screams interrupted your silent denial of what's happening. There's too many, and it just got louder after the sound of a door being thrown open boomed.

I need to get out. 

You tried navigating the hallways, hunching down when the screams got louder. It died down soon though, and you managed to find yourself in an open area that looked similar to the lobby you went in from.

It's not the same lobby though.

“Going to decline my invitation again?” A voice suddenly emerges from behind. You turn towards it and you see Phainon, holding a bloody greatsword and wearing an uncanny grin on his face.

Oh his face. It's a shame that his beautiful face is so fucking bloody right now. It's dripping, some clinging to his white hair. And his white regalia — might as well be red, with how drenched it is in blood.

The scarier part is that none of it is probably his blood. He's unscathed against this many royals, they didn't stand a single chance.

So not a chance you would. He makes way towards you, you can only step back mere centimeters before finally freezing up. He stops when he's close to your form, the smell of iron almost suffocating you.

He leans down, “You're going to leave me again, aren't you?”

“What…?”

“The people you're so afraid of ruining your life, these stupid royals, I killed them all, so you don't have to be afraid.”

“How did you… fuck, you're insane-” Your words are caught in your throat when Phainon suddenly grabs you and carries you in his shoulders. You tried hitting his back, but he only holds your waist tighter and snicker at your feeble attempts of breaking free.

He walks past the dead bodies of what used to be royals. You remember the scene from the novel, the fallen figures. You only tear up, your hands fall limp, refusing to hold onto Phainon's damp attire, lest you want to squeeze out royal blood from it.

“All of these blood flowing out of them and converging into one, this might just be the purest form of the royal blood they keep prattling about!” He suddenly mentions in passing, you feel his shoulders shake from laughter.

You shuddered.

You reach the throne room, which aside from the throne, just contains multiple portraits and statues. And the bodies of the people behind those, probably.

He settles you down the grandiose throne. It feels foreign, the velvet clings to your skin, while the metal feels too cold for comfort. He kneels down, arms clamped to your waist as he leans his head down on your thighs.

“Phainon.”

“Can you say my name again?” He looks up, putting his palm on your thigh and setting his chin on top of it, his manic, golden eyes just laser-focused on yours. The color just pops out more in contrast to the red around it.

“Why are you doing this?” You didn't entertain his request, which put a slight pout on his face. He removes his head on your thighs and lifts you up again, earning a yelp from you. He then settles down to the throne and places you on his lap, his arms locking you close to his chest.

“You said, that if I needed a princess by my side, you'd be willing to take that place,” Phainon whispers, now putting his chin up on your shoulders, his head slightly leaning towards yours.

Your eyes widened, “All this time, you're aware-”

“I am. What I didn't expect was you finding those anomalous portals fast, I tried breaking them all but they kept reappearing.” He sighs, sulking a bit.

That's why. That's why he seems so relaxed about you forgetting his titles, that's why he treats you as if you're not used to the customs of Okhema, your supposed birthplace.

Because it's him that plunged you right into this world.

“What I also didn't expect is that after all your declarations that you love me and that I am your favorite, the first thing you do is to try and leave me.” He continues.

Phainon made it a point to bring you entirely here, and not just stuff your soul on some poor extra. He altered the story not for himself, but to drag you along with him into this world.

“I am not from here, Phainon, and that was clear as day to you. I have a life back there! And the love I had for you, it's because you're a character I loved reading about-”

“What I had for you was real!” Phainon suddenly exclaims, he flips your positions, hands on your shoulders as he pushes your form to the throne’s backrest. “I've always observed you, you always appear to me when I feel so down. I've known you longer than you think!”

You're speechless. He can see you? All this time.

“You love me, don't you? So why leave?” Phainon leans his forehead on your shoulders. He's now straddling you, which makes it harder to move and the smell of blood more nauseating. 

He lifts his head up, bringing his face close in front of yours, “Well it's not like you can, because yeah, it was me. All of it was me. The hand mirror? I broke it. The scholars, I just gave them a little scare. I did it all, for you… so you can't leave, not after you said you love me.” 

“I don't-” He interrupts you.

“I will kill you.” 

If there's still anxiety and fear left pent up within, it finally spilled out now. Your breath hitched at his statement, your entire body tensing up.

“My power grew to the point where I found out some… things. Did you know that if you leave your other body for too long, it'll cease to- hm, operate?” Phainon caresses your face before continuing, “If your body died there, then you'll have nothing to return to right?”

“I'm not going to kill you here, I’m killing you there, so that you'll be able to live here.”

“You're sick… You're the fucking worst, what did I ever do to you.” You broke down. Phainon responded by cradling your form and running his fingers in your hair.

“Nothing, you don't have to do anything. It's because I love you. Ah! I almost forgot,” He suddenly reaches out under his vest. He pulls out a blue velvet box and hands it to you.

His stare is expectant, so you opened the box, inside was a wooden figurine of two birds, perched on a throne that looks like the one the two of you are sitting in. You hate it. Not because it's badly made, no, actually the opposite — it's such a chillingly accurate representation of the scene you're currently in right now.

You hate what it's insinuating, you'd love to deny it, but underneath the figurine is a ring, a silver band, with a blue and yellow gem opposite of one another. The blue gem is enclosed in a moon, while the yellow one is within a sun.

Stop denying it, it's no use.

“I learned it from a jeweler who’s been working here since I was a child,” Phainon loosens his hold. He gently puts the ring on your finger. On his own is an identical one.

And as if noticing that something is missing when compared to the bird figurine, Phainon leans down and plucks something off of the floor on the throne's side. He grips the armrests as he does, caging you in, but his lowered form gives you a clearer picture of the bloodbath in the room. Gold and blues all intermingled with red.

Phainon straightens his posture again, in his hand are crowns. Two crowns.

You feel cold metal on the top of your head, in front of you Phainon also puts a crown on his. He smiles at you, so sweetly, before leaning down and sealing your fate with a passionate kiss.

That fateful day, the two of you are crowned Emperor and Empress of the kingdom.

Phainon had ascended the throne, this time, he isn't alone.

[The end.]

[seraph's note]: AWOOOOOOGH PHAINON. i am utterly devastated with 3.4 but at least brought the peak gameplay and character of my GOAT phainon. i've been enjoying on bringing him to just about any available content in-game lol.

this took waaaaaay longer than it should, i was supposed to upload it on the day i got him but i got writer's block lol. if it wasn't obvious, this is heavily based off of those isekai manhwas (that i will always eat up despite having almost the same plot everytime). the delay hopefully paid off as i channeled my inner yap god to this 11k word piece lmao. thx for reading if you managed to get to the end, love you for that, mwah.

want more? check out the [database.] for other content!

[moonchildee]

"In Case of Zombies"

Pairing: Wooin Yoo x Reader

Summary: You almost got bitten by a fucking zombie because you never listen to him...in his dreams.

Tags: Fluff, Established RS, Stressed!Wooin, Soft mornings

A/N: I haven't been able to write anything else other than Wooin lately, I just had a lot in my mind these days :(( I'm trying to finish the Owen and Jay fic I have in my drafts though, but you have to endure my Wooin brain rot for now😭

It’s not really a surprise to wake before him.

You almost always do.

The room is still dipped in that soft, muted gray light of early morning, the air cool enough to make the warmth under the blanket feel like a secret you don’t want to share.

And there he is—half on top of you like you’re his personal claim, his arm heavy and firm around your middle, face pressed into the curve of your neck as if it’s the most natural place in the world for him to breathe.

One leg is hooked over both of yours, anchoring you there. He sleeps like someone guarding a treasure, every inch of his body tangled with yours until you can barely tell where he ends and you begin.

It should be suffocating, maybe, but instead it feels… grounding.

These mornings are your favorite. The ones where neither of you has anywhere urgent to be, where the only sound is the faint buzz of the city far below your window and the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.

Your phone rests in your free hand, the screen dim as you scroll lazily through notifications. The other hand is buried in his hair, idly carding through the dark strands, nails occasionally grazing his scalp in light scratches that make him hum in his sleep.

It’s not like you try to wake him—if anything, you’re careful with each movement, letting him sleep as long as he wants.

You’re midway through skimming an article you aren’t actually reading when you notice it.

His arm tightens around you—not the slow, unconscious squeeze he does sometimes when he stirs, but sharper. His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, bunching it against your skin. His breathing shifts, no longer steady but uneven, like he’s chasing something in his dreams.

“U-Ugh—d-don’t—n-ngh—”

You pause, thumb hovering over your phone screen.

“Mm?” you murmur softly, not expecting a response.

The sound is garbled, low, almost swallowed by the pillow. But you hear the strain in it, the way his voice cracks over the syllables.

You turn your head slightly, careful not to jostle him, and catch the faint furrow of his brows. His lashes flutter but don’t open, his lips moving with words that barely make it out.

His hold only tightens. The leg over yours presses down more firmly, his knee fitting against your thigh in a way that pins you in place. He tucks his face deeper into your neck, breath warm but uneven against your skin.

Your phone slips onto the mattress beside you as you shift fully onto your side to face him.

“Wooin…?” you try quietly.

“G-Gah—g-get back—h-here—nmm…”

The tension in his shoulders is different—coiled, almost desperate. You smooth your palm through his hair again, slower this time, hoping to coax him back into calm. Your thumb traces the shell of his ear, down to his jaw, lingering against the warm line of skin before cupping his cheek.

“Hey,” you whisper, “it’s okay. You’re fine. Wake up.”

You press a kiss to his hairline, murmuring his name again, more firmly this time.

But he doesn’t.

His grip is like steel now, holding you against him as if something might pull you away at any moment. His legs shift again, restlessness bleeding into every part of him, and you can feel the faint tremor in his fingers where they’re pressed into your side.

His brow twitches, his breathing catches—and then, finally, his eyes crack open.

They’re hazy, unfocused at first, but the moment they land on you, something in them loosens. He blinks hard, like he’s trying to shake off the last shreds of the dream, and then he’s hauling you closer.

You don’t resist, letting him pull until your chests are flush and there’s not a sliver of space between you. His hand slides up your back, palm splaying wide like he’s making sure you’re whole.

“Hey,” you murmur, brushing your fingers over the back of his neck, feeling the heat of his skin under your palm. “What’s—”

“You idiot—”

You blinked at him. 

“…Uh—good morning to you too?”

“I told you to stay back—ugh, fuck—you almost died,” he says, voice low but tight, like the words have been lined up in his chest just waiting to stampede out. “Told you twice. You’re so—fucking—stubborn—”

“…Wooin,” you start slowly, “I’ve been in bed this whole time.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your interruption, like you’re background noise. 

“And I told you not to wear those damn combat boots just for the aesthetics. But no—you went stomping around like it was some runway, and then—” His jaw flexes, his arm tightening around your waist. “You tripped. Fell. I had to drag you away. They almost got you.”

“…They?” you ask, because you have a terrible, terrible suspicion.

And he went quiet just for a beat, lips curling in an almost annoyed manner before answering.

“The zombies,” he says grimly.

You blink at him once. 

Twice. 

“…Right.”

His eyes narrow like you’ve just kicked a puppy. 

“Don’t start.”

You can’t help it—a small snort slips out before you can even fake remorse. His grip instantly pulls you closer, arm like a steel bar at your back, like he thinks laughter might be your escape attempt.

“This isn’t funny,” he mutters, gaze darting down to your hands as if making sure they’re still attached and functional. His thumb grazes the side of your palm—so light you barely feel it—and then he’s staring back at you, voice rougher now. 

“It felt real. I saw you fall, and I—” He cuts himself off, swallowing the rest like it’s something he’s not ready to let you hear.

“It was a dream, dummy.” you chuckled softly—leaning down to let your lips graze his nose. “There’s no zombies here…just me, and you.”

His breath leaves him in a slow, shaky exhale, his forehead tipping forward until it rests against yours. The blanket shifts and pools at your hips with the movement, revealing the curve of his shoulder and the faint line of muscle down his back. His skin brushes yours in slow, lingering passes as his breathing begins to match yours.

He basked in the silence, as if waking himself up completely out of panic.

Then—

“Still not letting you wear them ugly ass boots again,” he mumbles against your cheek. “Not even to the store.”

You smile faintly, fingers sliding up into his hair, feeling the strands part between them. “Fine. No boots—but stil…no zombie movies and games for you for a while.”

He groaned, but nuzzled against your neck once more anyways, “...You’re really a dumbass. Dumb—ass. So dumb. Real dumb. Ugh, dummy.” he grumbled.

“Was I that bad?” you huffed softly, humoring him once.

“...You wanted to take a zombie as a pet…we almost broke up…” he answered.

And you snorted, bubbling into a fit of laughter against his hair.

“Stop—that wasn’t funny, idiot.”

“It is, too.” you argued. “Your nightmare is so dumb.” you teased.

“Yeah, well,” he murmurs, his hand finding the small of your back, tracing slow, grounding circles through the thin fabric there. “So are you.”

His legs shift to tangle more securely with yours, one thigh hooking over to keep you pressed into the cradle of his body. You can feel the steady thud of his heartbeat under your palm where it rests at his chest. He’s not letting go—not anytime soon.

“You really think I wouldn’t survive a zombie apocalypse?” you prodded again, grinning.

His eyes crack open just enough to meet yours, unimpressed. “I know you wouldn’t.”

You gasp in mock offense. “Wow. No faith.”

“None,” he says without hesitation, but his grip on you softens, hand smoothing up your spine until his fingers curl at the back of your neck. “Not when it’s you versus… whatever that thing was in my dream.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, leaning into his touch.

“You’re ridiculous.” he replies, voice so low it almost slips past you. 

He presses closer, lips grazing your hairline—fleeting, but deliberate.

For someone who just accused you of tripping straight into the jaws of death in a dream, he’s holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him breathing.

And for all your teasing, you don’t move—not when his thumb traces the hollow behind your ear, not when his breath spills warm over your temple, not when his hold tightens like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

Because—zombies or not—morning only feels right when you’re tangled up like this, the space between you nonexistent, your heartbeat steadying his.

[moonchildee]

He giving me that good shit That make me not quit

𐙚🧸ྀི ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ — INSTRUCTIONS you have to be logged into X to access these links, & the captions have nothing to do with why I chose the links ⋆. 𐙚 ˚❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Warnings; If you aren’t comfortable with these scroll away ♡ do not force yourself to watch this, it’s 🌽links

A/N ~ (I have to use emojis because if I describe the contents of the videos it will be removed honestly it’s bs cause I see the jjk & lads fandom doing it but I got flagged last time so to be safe I’m using emojis)

Tagging: @yuriaxx @wthphe1n @bfwooin @prepchii @sylith @sanzuslutttt @i-nssomniia @zyart-jpg @sunariiiiiiin

Jay Jo

🍒, 🩲, 🦵🏻, 🐱, 🛏️

Mahon Jo

🐶, 📺, 🛏️, 🍒, 🍆

Owen Knight

69,🤝, 🐶, 🤚🏼, 🛏️

Harry Sheppard

🦵🏻, 🍆, 🐶, 🤠, 🍳

[moonchildee]

"Once Upon A Time"

Pairing: Wooin Yoo x Reader

Summary: He didn't mean to scroll so far, nor was he trynna like your post from 2 years ago.

Tags: Fluff, Getting back together, Wooin just being a simp lowkey and Hyuk and Joker being an ass about it

n/a: im kinda out of it rn lmaoaoaoa i cant proof read it anymore its 3 am but i read it 4 times and seems good enough...just a lil too long lmaoaoaoa but yeah i just wanted something sweet but awkward w wooin❤️😌

It started with something dumb.

Like, real dumb.

The kind of dumb that’s just supposed to be his usual post-race wind-down—kick off the shoes, scroll through Instagram, look up that fine chick he saw from LOS the day after their first race.

Yumi Lee—not exactly a state secret. Her @ was right there in the crew’s tagged posts, and hey, not his fault the Tarantula girls had a roster worth a good five minutes of his attention.

Enough for him to jump from one profile to another, clicking whatever account was tagged in a photo he deemed hot enough to catch his eye.

Five minutes turned into twenty. Twenty turned into how the hell did I end up here?

Because somewhere between “just looking” and “I swear I’m not creeping,” he clicked too far. Dug too deep. Swiped himself straight out of Yumi’s world and face-first into yours.

Your profile.

The same one he remembers blocking three years ago—back when his pride was bigger than his sense of direction and the breakup was still fresh enough to feel like chewing glass.

He hadn’t thought about that in a while.

Or, well—he told himself he hadn’t.

Now? He’s scrolling your feed like it’s his morning newspaper. Clicking through your highlighted stories like he’s an archaeologist uncovering relics from a life he used to live.

Latest post? Cute. Oldest post? Ouch. He’s not even sure when he started smiling at stupid little things in the captions—inside jokes that aren’t his anymore.

And then—because his life is a sitcom with no laugh track—Hyuk happened.

One second, Wooin’s sitting at the dining table, hunched over his phone like a gremlin. Next thing he knows, Hyuk’s leaning over his shoulder, peering down without a single ounce of personal-boundary awareness.

And then—tap.

Double tap.

A bright, cheery little heart blooms right on your smile in a picture from two years ago.

The sound Wooin made was somewhere between a choke and a gasp.

“What the—?! HYUK!”

Hyuk just blinks, shrugs, and takes a bite of his banana like he didn’t just ruin Wooin’s social life in under three seconds.

Meanwhile, Wooin’s staring at his screen like it’s a live grenade, watching that stupid heart sit there, broadcasting his relapse to the world.

He jabs at the screen, unliking it in a panic.

“She’s gonna see that! You know Instagram tells you instantly, right?!”

Hyuk swallows his bite. “Then she already saw it.”

“That’s not—shut up!” Wooin’s fingers are flying now, opening your profile, closing it, reopening it like that’ll somehow erase the notification from your end.

He’s mid-scroll when Hyuk leans over again, smirking. “Oh, this one’s nice,” he says, tapping another post before anyone can stop him.

Another heart blooms.

“FUCKER, I WILL—” Wooin practically tackles the phone out of his hand, nearly spilling the rest of Hyuk’s stupid banana onto the table.

“Are you trying to make me look like a desperate stalker?!”

Hyuk snorts, leaning back in his chair. “You’re already scrolling two years deep. The damage was done before I got here.”

“That’s different!” Wooin hisses, already unliking the second post with trembling fingers. “Scrolling in silence is stealth. This is a fucking crime scene now.”

He sets the phone down like it’s contaminated, rubbing his face. “She’s gonna think I’m crawling back.”

Hyuk raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Wooin opens his mouth, closes it, glares at him instead. “…That’s not the point, but I'm not.”

Two days passed.

Two whole, dragging, quiet days.

No notification from you.

No snide message calling him a creep.

No passive-aggressive post about “certain people” lurking. 

Not even a single sign you’d noticed Hyuk liking those buried photos from years ago.

Wooin should’ve been relieved.

Hell, he should’ve been celebrating—no drama, no embarrassment, no reason for you to block him, and salt the earth behind you.

But no.

Instead, he was exactly where he’d been that night—slouched over the dining table, hood pulled low over his head, a lollipop cracking between his teeth from how hard he was biting down on it.

Fuck. 

Why weren’t you reacting?

Wasn’t that enough to piss you off at least a little? To make you text him something, just so he’d know you still had it in you? Or had you forgotten him completely? Did Hyuk’s little stunt just get buried under a pile of other notifications—other people, other lives, all of them pulling you further from where he still was?

The thought made his head throb.

He dragged his hand down his face, trying to shake it off, when a familiar, smug voice cut through the low hum of his place.

“Oh? Back at it again?”

This time, when Hyuk leaned in over his shoulder, Wooin was quick—phone flipped closer to his chest, chin dipping under his hood like an animal guarding a kill. His scowl was sharp enough to cut, but Hyuk didn’t even blink. 

Joker stood just behind him, blank as ever, while the fuckass wore that infuriating look of someone ready to keep poking until something broke again.

“Fuck off, asshat,” Wooin groaned, raking his fingers through his hair like it might clear his head. “I’m gonna hit you for real this time.”

“With what? Your whining?” Hyuk’s voice came flat as a brick wall, unbothered, as he reached over Wooin’s counter to pluck another banana without so much as looking at him. 

He peeled it with the same slow, deliberate motion of someone who knew they were about to piss you off and was savoring every second. 

“Still stalking your lil girlfriend?” he deadpanned around the first bite.

Wooin barely turned his head, shoving at Hyuk’s shoulder with a lazy flick that carried more irritation than force.

“Ex—I said fuck off,” he groaned, dragging a palm down his face. “You’re so fucking invested in this, you psycho.”

“He didn’t deny the stalking, great.” Joker deadpanned.

“Of course I am.” Hyuk didn’t even blink. He leaned his hip against the counter like he owned the place, banana halfway gone already. “The only time you were calm was when you were dating her.”

From where he shifted, Joker’s voice cut in again, flat as ever. “He can be calm?”

Wooin shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but Joker didn’t even flinch—just shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, looking bored in that way only Joker could.

“Yeah,” Hyuk went on, chewing noisily for effect, “and his face wasn’t full of holes yet.” His gaze flicked to the piercings on Wooin’s lip and brow, the faint glint of metal catching the low light. 

“Back then you looked like some harmless golden retriever. Now?” He gestured vaguely with the banana, like he was pointing out a crime scene. “Now you just look like you’re trying to scare off feelings.”

“Or people,” Joker added, and though his tone was even, there was something about it that made the air tighten for a beat.

Wooin bit down on his lollipop hard enough to hear the crack, trying not to let the sting of their words show.

“Wow, this must be really stressing you out,” Hyuk’s voice cut through the silence like nails down a chalkboard, just as Wooin’s jaw tensed around his lollipop.

Wooin didn’t even look up, just muttered, “Shut up,” under his breath.

“Want me to lend you hands?” Hyuk said casually.

“You mean lend a hand,” Joker corrected without missing a beat from where he leaned on the counter, eyes half-lidded in that deadpan way he always spoke.

But Hyuk just shook his head, hooking a banana between his teeth as his free hand shot out—smooth as if he’d done this a hundred times—snatching Wooin’s phone right from his grip. 

“No,” he said around the fruit, his voice muffled, “I meant hands.”

“Oi—what the fuck—!” Wooin nearly knocked his chair back as he lunged, but Hyuk was already spinning away like it was a game.

“Hold him for a sec, Joker. I’ll pay you later,” Hyuk called over his shoulder, thumbs flying across the screen without an ounce of shame.

Joker didn’t even hesitate.

One second Wooin was on his feet, the next his arms were wrenched back and his hoodie collar was half choking him. 

“That’s a million won, you freak,” Joker said flatly, like this was just another business.

“AHH FUCK—STOP IT!” Wooin kicked back, trying to shake Joker off, but the man had a grip like steel.

Hyuk was grinning now, tapping away with infuriating calm. “Relax. I’m just doing what you’re too chicken to do.”

“I swear to God—Hyuk, I’ll kill you!” Wooin thrashed again, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Then kill me later,” Hyuk replied, still typing. “She’s gonna think this is cute.”

“CUTE?! I’M GONNA FUCKING—” Wooin jerked forward hard enough to make Joker grunt, almost slipping free—until Joker shifted his weight and reeled him back in.

And then it happened—Hyuk froze for just a second, smirking at whatever he’d just sent. The sound of a notification leaving the phone seemed to echo in Wooin’s ears like a gunshot.

By the time he managed to twist halfway out of Joker’s hold and grab Hyuk by the collar, dragging him in close enough to strangle him on the spot—

—Hyuk was already holding the phone up like a trophy. 

“Too late. She’s seen it.”

Wooin’s heart slammed into his throat, his rage short-circuiting into cold panic as he saw your name at the top of the screen, the little “typing…” bubble already appearing.

And just like that, all the fight drained from his knees, Joker’s grip the only thing keeping him upright as the realization hit:

You were typing back.

And if the universe had any sense of mercy, you’d be typing something short.

But knowing his luck? He was about to fucking die.

To be fair, the moment his name lit up your notifications after years of radio silence, your first instinct was to bury your face in a pillow and scream.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what he’d been up to—you weren’t living under a rock. His social media had been public enough, his posts loud in more ways than one. Photos of races, nights out, friends draped over him, that wild grin plastered across his face—he was living.

And you were happy for him. 

Honestly, you were—but you never planned to wedge yourself back into his orbit. 

Even if things had ended cleanly—kindly, even—and you’d made peace with being a quiet bystander. Every so often you’d check in from afar, see if he was still cycling, still chasing the things he loved back when you were both younger and tangled up in each other’s days. 

That was enough—Or it had been, until now.

Y.WOOIN — 2m ago

“Are you a banana? Because I’m going bananas over you🍌”

A corny pick-up line as his first words after years? Hell yeah.

The laugh hit you so hard you had to bury your face into your pillow again, shoulders shaking as you scrambled to type back something that matched the absurdity.

Your thumbs flew, mashing out a chaotic HAHAHSHSHASHAHSAHSHASHASHASHAHSA before you flopped onto your back, phone still in hand, grinning like an idiot at the ceiling.

And maybe it made you easy.

Or maybe it was just that you were still… too tangled up in the old you-and-him—still holding onto the shape of those memories like they hadn’t already yellowed with time. 

Whatever the reason, here you were. Only a day after that ridiculous, awkward little reconnection, sitting across from him in a cramped café near your workplace. 

As if the two of you hadn’t been quietly dodging each other’s existence for the past three years. As if three years of silence could be erased with one stupid message and a seat between chipped mugs and the smell of burnt espresso.

“…Bananas, huh…” you started weakly, your voice dipping into that uncertain place between teasing and testing the waters. 

The steam from your coffee curled in the air, a small amused grin barely hidden behind the rim of your mug.

Across from you, his reaction was instant. His eyes squeezed shut like you’d just stabbed him with the memory, a groan escaping as his hand came up to cover his face. Even with his palm hiding most of him, you could still catch the faint flush that had bloomed high on his tanned cheeks, creeping up to the tips of his ears.

You snickered, the sound bubbling out without effort.

“Jesus—I told you, it was Hyuk!” he said, voice breaking with mock outrage as he peeked at you through his fingers. “He was the one who sent that after taking my phone.”

“Or so you’ve said,” you hummed into your drink, deliberately letting the skepticism drip from your tone. “If you said so…”

That earned you the kind of look you remembered too well—the one where his brows pinched, like he was torn between annoyance and the urge to smile. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him, and muttered something about “unbelievable” under his breath.

The café wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t quiet either. The hiss of the espresso machine, the clink of cups, the low hum of someone’s playlist—it all wrapped around you like a buffer, a reminder that this wasn’t the same bubble you used to live in with him. 

Back then, conversation came so easy. Now, it felt like the two of you were prodding at each other’s edges, testing if you still fit anywhere in each other’s lives.

You lowered your mug, resting your fingers against the warm ceramic. “So… Hyuk’s still around?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We ride together sometimes. He’s still an idiot, though. Some things don’t change.”

You smiled faintly at that. “Guess not.”

For a moment, it was just the sound of you both sipping your drinks. That weird, careful silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly—just… foreign.

The last time you’d sat across from him, you’d been able to read his mood without thinking, fill in the gaps without asking. Now, it was like you were working from a faded copy of the map.

He was the one who broke the silence next.

“So—you’ve been… good?”

The words were simple enough—small talk, harmless—but the way he said them, low and unhurried, with his eyes flicking to yours only to drop away again, made your stomach tighten in a way you weren’t ready for.

His voice didn’t sound like it used to. Deeper now. Less restless.

“Yeah,” you said after a pause, like you needed to check the word before letting it out. “Busy. Work’s been… you know.”

“Mm.” He nodded slowly, fingers drumming once against the side of his cup. “You back for good?”

“…Yeah. I plan to stay here for work.” You tilted your head toward him. “You?”

His mouth curved—not quite a smile, but close enough. “Still cycling. Still… me, I guess.”

You let out a small laugh, one that felt oddly self-conscious. “Still you.”

He leaned forward a little then, forearms resting on the table. And it wasn’t the gesture that caught you so much as the way he was looking at you—steadily, quietly—like he was searching for the edges of something you hadn’t said yet. That same watchfulness you remembered from before, but sharper now. 

“You didn’t have to say yes, you know,” he murmured.

Your brows knit. “To coffee?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, though the motion felt heavier than it should have. “We could’ve just… left it at that message.”

Your thumb traced the curve of your mug’s handle, more to keep your hands busy than anything.

“Maybe,” you murmured, glancing up at him. “But I wanted to see you.”

Something shifted in his face at that—his eyes softening, just enough to be noticeable. He didn’t answer right away, only gave a single, slow nod, like he was filing the words away somewhere private.

The air between you felt different after that. Looser in one way, tighter in another. You found yourself leaning in too, elbows on the worn wood between you, close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne. Definitely not the same one he wore in high school.

“I thought you’d hate me,” you admitted before you could stop yourself.

His head tilted slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

You shrugged, gaze dropping to the swirl of coffee in your cup. “Because I left. When you were… when you weren’t at your best.”

“I never hated you,” he said, cutting you off, the firmness in his tone pulling your eyes back to his. “I was the one who told you to go. Who was I to stop you from getting out of here for your own damn future?” 

The last part came out like a short, almost disbelieving laugh. But then he went quiet. His gaze slid away, not like before, but in a way that felt hesitant.

“I just thought… you didn’t want me around anymore. Even when you got back from the US.”

Something stuttered in your chest. 

You looked at him—really looked at him. The lines in his face were different now. His hair was styled and short instead of messy. His shoulders broader, hidden under his baggy clothes but wide enough for you to notice. 

A man.

Not a boy hunched over a desk anymore—not even close.

“I did,” you said softly. “Want you around, I mean.”

He didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he almost wanted to.

“Yeah?” he scoffed lightly, tilting his head, the lenses of his yellow-tinted glasses catching the light.

You looked away before you could stop yourself, warmth crawling up your neck like it had been waiting for the perfect excuse to humiliate you. And it was definitely not because you’d just realized he was… more attractive now. 

Absolutely not.

It was just coffee. Or the heating. Or maybe the way the sunlight caught the steam curling up from your cup—anything except the fact that his jaw looked sharper than you remembered, or that his voice had deepened just enough to sit lower in your chest.

From there, the conversation began to soften at the edges, bleeding into safer territory. You traded small updates like they were foreign currency—careful, tentative, but with a surprising amount of value.

Mutual friends. Jobs. The weather. That one teacher who’d mysteriously vanished mid-year

And then—

“Remember that time we got caught sneaking snacks into the library?” you asked, hiding your smile behind the rim of your mug.

He huffed a laugh, leaning back into his chair. “You mean when you nearly choked trying to eat a whole bread roll before she reached us?”

“You’re the one who told me to hide it in my mouth!”

“And you listened,” he said, grinning in that way that made the lines by his eyes crinkle—a detail that, absurdly, felt like proof that time had actually passed.

Each story shaved away a little more of the stiffness, until you could almost pretend the gap hadn’t been years wide. Almost.

Because underneath the easy laughter, there was something else. Something heavier. You could feel it in the pauses, in the way his eyes kept catching yours and holding just a fraction too long.

When your cups were empty, neither of you moved to stand. The afternoon light shifted through the wide cafe window, streaking warm gold across the table. He noticed you looking, and for once, didn’t glance away.

“You’ve changed,” he said, voice quiet enough to almost be lost under the soft clink of dishes behind the counter. It wasn’t unkind—if anything, it sounded… careful.

“So have you,” you returned, equally soft.

His gaze lingered, steady. And you were suddenly aware of the sound of your own heartbeat, like it had chosen this exact moment to move into your throat. There was something unsaid there—something fragile, still wrapped in the same kind of silence that had kept the two of you apart for three years.

But you didn’t get up. And neither did he.

The air between you seemed to thicken, not with tension, but with a strange pull. Like both of you were standing at the lip of a memory, toes curling at the edge, wondering if you should step back or let yourselves fall.

“So…” he began, voice lower and rougher than before, like the word had been sitting on his tongue for a while, “was it really that funny?”

It took you a second to catch on—your mind still lingering in the calmer rhythm you’d both slipped into—but then the corner of your mouth curved when it clicked. 

The banana line. Of course.

“Yes,” you said, your voice carrying a little too much certainty.

His eyes darted away with a sharp exhale through his nose, half a scoff, half a laugh. “I swear it wasn’t me.”

“Sure,” you replied. But your tone was softer this time—less pointed, more like you were leaving the door cracked for him to keep going if he wanted.

He took it.

“You know how ridiculous Hyuk is,” he muttered, the words coming with a grumble that didn’t quite match the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Mm,” you hummed knowingly, leaning back against your chair. “Hyuk’s always been the one pushing you around, after all.”

That earned you an exaggerated roll of his eyes, his head tilting just enough that you could catch the tiny twitch of his mouth like he was fighting a grin.

“Pushing me around, huh…” he echoed under his breath, but there was no real bite to it.

“Well, I’m glad you’re still riding together,” you said after a beat, your tone slipping into something gentler. “At least… you weren’t alone.”

The words seemed to settle heavier between you than you expected. His gaze didn’t lift immediately, and when it did, it was only long enough to flick toward you before he raised his mug higher, letting it shield the lower half of his face.

You didn’t push.

Instead, you took a sip from your own cup, watching the way the light through the window cut across his profile this time—the sharpness of his jaw, the glint of piercings on his features that weren’t there before. He looked different, older, but there was still something in his eyes that felt the same, even when they kept avoiding yours.

Somewhere in the middle of reminiscing about a class trip, he shifted, leaning forward just slightly, elbows on the table. His voice softened when he asked more about your time away, his interest not the polite kind you offered to acquaintances but the sort that made you feel like he was tucking every detail away to keep.

You answered, and when he smiled at something you said, it was faint but real. The kind of smile that carried the weight of knowing what you used to sound like when you were truly happy.

When you asked about him, he hesitated. Not long enough for it to feel deliberate—just long enough for you to notice. His stories were lighter, less personal. You didn’t push. But it made you wonder what had filled those three missing years for him, and if he’d ever tell you.

The minutes blurred. Outside, the shadows of passersby stretched long across the sidewalk. A couple nearby got up to leave, the scrape of their chairs loud in the comfortable quiet between you.

“You ever think about…” he started, then stopped, his jaw tightening like the words were caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth.

“About?”

His eyes found yours again. 

“Never mind.” He smiled—small, almost sheepish—and it was the kind of smile you’d seen on him years ago, right before he’d dared you to do something stupid.

Your chest tightened.

The truth was, you’d spent years teaching yourself to think of him less. You’d filed away his laugh, his voice, the way he used to look at you when you said something unexpectedly funny. You’d told yourself it was just another chapter, something that didn’t need revisiting.

And yet—here you were.

When the barista cleared your cups, she asked if you wanted another round. Neither of you answered right away. You could feel his gaze even as you glanced down at the menu, pretending to consider it.

“I could,” you said finally.

“Me too,” he replied, but his voice carried something quieter underneath.

Relief, maybe. Or maybe just the smallest thread of hope.

By the time the second round of drinks arrived, the air between you felt different. Not heavier—more like the careful hum before a bridge in a song. You weren’t sure if it was coming from you or him, but it was there, steady and low.

He caught you looking at him again, and this time, he didn’t smile.

Instead, he said, “I missed this.”

Your fingers tightened around the warm ceramic of your cup. There were a dozen ways you could’ve answered—light, teasing, deflecting—but none of them felt right. 

“I missed you.” you murmured.

And he seemed to hear it, with how his hand snaked closer to yours—not quite touching, but lingering eough to keep the warmth.

And you both knew then—it’s a start.

If Wooin noticed two shady-looking idiots peeking out from the café’s bathroom hall, trading smug and lazy smirks in his direction, he didn’t let it show. 

He just kept his eyes on you.

Joker was as good as dead—but maybe, if he was feeling generous, Hyuk would live long enough to regret it.

MASTERLIST

[moonchildee]

because dilf caleb has been heavy on my mind...

cw. age gap, breeding, dirty talk, employer-employee relationship, twist at the end | 1.3k wc

it should be criminal how good you look with a baby on your hip. 

specifically his baby. 

caleb's darling ophelia giggles when you press your face into her chubby belly and blow raspberries, the toddler's squeal bouncing off the walls and warming up the chambers of his heart.

"again!" ophelia giggles, clapping her chubby fists together. "more!" 

while you would love to do nothing but entertain the adorable kiddo, you unfortunately have to get back to your campus dorm before curfew if you want to avoid any hassle with the university security. 

you glance over at him, an apologetic smile on your face. "i would love to, mr. xia... but my bus is coming soon." to ophelia, you coo, "tomorrow, okay?" she pouts, and to avert an oncoming tantrum, you cheer her up with: i'll bring you doughnuts!" 

once the little critter is satisfied, you tuck her into bed and head towards the door, but not before caleb's throat clearing stops you in your tracks. 

"hey. here's your cash." 

oh. you turn back, wide smile in place. "thank you so much, mr. xia!" 

he chortles, rubbing the back of his neck. he's still handsome despite being a decade older—long lashes. tousled dark hair with strands of white streaking it. heck, if he were a few years younger, you'd be hard-pressed to not try to throw yourself at him at some college afterparty. 

"y'know you can call me caleb, squirt. mr. xia makes me sound ancient." he squints. "say. how about you stay for a while. i could use some young blood to help me with my model assembling." 

"but, the bus—"

"i'll send ya back," he waves off your concern, and flashes you a grin that makes your heart squeeze. "come on. it's a friday night and you're off your duties." hammering it in, he offers:  "i make a mean margarita." 

pursing your lips, you eventually nod. "okay."

for the rest of the evening, caleb takes you around his basement, showing you his plane models, telling you the story behind all of them. the drink in your hand is mild, but in the low, ambient light, you can't help but wonder if it's a good enough reason to sidle closer to your employer.

he notices. of course, he does. caleb has a keen eye as an ex-pilot, after all. 

"what about this one?" you innocently press closer, close enough to smell the scent of his minty aftershave. he hums, but doesn't step back, a smile lifting the corners of his lips.

"ah, this... this was my late wife's favorite..."

"your... late wife?" cautiously, you approach the topic with him. "if i may... what happened to her?" 

he sobers up and gives you a wink. "another story. for another time."

the hours fly by. and just as the clock strikes 11, you're already straddling his lap, two margaritas too tipsy, lips pressed to his and swallowing down his heated moans.

his tongue slips into your mouth, begging for entry, and you give it to him, letting him taste you. 

months of familiar banter make it easy for you to thread your fingers through his hair; slanting your face to the side to give him more access to your mouth.

it should be illegal how good this feels. yet, you don't care for anything but the feel of him under your touch, the taste of him heavy on your tongue. caleb kisses you with the expertise of a man who knows what he wants and what you need.

he doesn't push you, letting you cross the line first. 

a tug on his hair. your teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

it's all so dizzying and so, so right. 

he looks good under you. all flushed lips and cheeks. and he's not shy either, judging from the tent in his pants.

"h-hey, slow down," he rasps, grasping onto your hips, his glasses askew and fogging up. "y'killing me, darling. i wanna savor you for a bit."

you would love to. but margarita number two has made you bold enough to shake your head and press closer. 

"nuh-uh. need you now."

what else can he do but oblige you? 

this cute, sexy, pretty little babysitter he hired off the net who looked so good between his thighs. was it sleazy? yeah. was it frowned upon? maybe.

but, did it feel good?

his moan is like velvet in your ears when you taste him, licking a drop of pre, flattening your tongue to drag it along a thick, pulsing vein that ran from the root of him to the crown. 

hell yeah. it's more than good. 

it's amazing.

"pretty baby," he growls, grinding up against you, feeling how hot and slick you're already getting for him. 

growling, he rips off his glasses and tosses them behind the couch, letting them clatter god-knows-where so he can yank you into a bruising, all-consuming kiss. 

"such a hot, perky body..." he pants against your mouth, kissing you with full-on need. "bet you'd look so pretty with your legs in the air, my seed drippin' down your thighs..." 

your dulcet moan sets off the fire in his veins. goddamn. he just can't get enough of you. 

"wanna put a baby in you," he mutters, finally giving into the desires he's been repressing since the moment he saw you on his front porch, all sexy as hell in a crop top and jeans. 

he palms your heavy tit, eyes hooded with lust. "do you think i can suck on them hard enough till milk comes out?" 

"h-ahhh!" your cries reverberate across the room, and he slaps a palm to your mouth to silence them. "ssh!" he hisses, "you're gonna wake the baby up."

but, it's impossible to keep it all in when he's so hot and thick inside you, pumping past your silky walls, the plump head of him hitting the opening of your womb. 

risky and devilish, he grins at you. "hope you're not ovulating or anything... might be hard to stop myself from breeding this sweet, little body." 

... fuck. just the thought of it, of him claiming you when you're this compromised, makes the lust light up your veins. 

"no," you mewl, shaking your head, pressing closer as he guides your movements up and down, up and down.

taking you for what you're worth.

"m'not... not yet..."

caleb curses under his breath. "swear? might go crazy and make you a mommy... fuck... you know you look so good with my baby... you'd look amazing, sweetheart..."

neither of you can hold back at the thought, and he's shooting inside of you—thick, messy ropes that spill past, staining your thighs. 

a-ahhh, your mewls spur him on to kiss you full on the lips, your heaving body writhing against his. 

it takes you a full minute to process you'd just fuck your employer right on his couch, and the thought makes your cheeks warm. 

"i..." 

"nuh-uh," he shakes his head, and bundles you in his arms, holding you tightly to him. "don't leave. not now." 

you close your eyes. "but, mr. xia—"

"darling, i've just been inside you," he scolds you lightly, chucking your cheek with two fingers in a playful way. "don't give me none of that mr.xia bullcrap."

you open your mouth, wanting to argue, but clamp it shut instead, a reluctant grin spreading across your face.

"caleb."

his ears are slightly red when he glances at you, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. he grabs a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders, protecting your modesty. 

"y/n." 

but, what neither of you anticipate to hear was a small, sleepy voice that shatters the illusion of peace; breaking this fragile afterglow and nearly shooting you sky-high in frantic circles once you realize just how indecent you two look right now. 

"dada?" ophelia rubs her eyes, not even noticing your presence, or your stricken expression hidden behind his shoulder. "... i frew up..."

— feedback and rbs? *sad spongebob eyes* will make me v happy :')

[moonchildee]

🦇🦅

[moonchildee]

ATONEMENT

M A S T E R L I S T

In the middle of the night, when they sky was falling, the horizon littered with its fragments, careening straight for her, Y/N knew her time was up. It was either she faced the reality or closed the chapter then and there itself. But when the burden is too heavy to be carried on your shoulders, does one even have any choice besides submitting to defeat?

Failure was her only choice. Death was her only escape.

But they ensured she found a meaning in life, even if she didnt want it, while combatting against greater forces all clawing for her unmarked heart.

Pairing: Joker x f!reader , Wooin x f!reader, Hyuk x f!reader

Tags: Yandere, mentions of cult, mentions of violence, gore, lots and lots of shady stuff, psychological horror, I'd add more tags but I don't wanna give away the story

Wanna be added to the tag list?

PROLOGUE

i.

ii.

iii.

[moonchildee]

: ・ෆ・┈・┈・🙉⑅🙊・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

My woman

: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

After jay and shelly broke up, he was undeniably heartbroken, but he knew he was the sole reason why it happened, wanting someone to pull him out of his comfort zone and she did what he wanted.

He tried to ignore these feelings, the feeling if guilt and longing for her, often biking out to break his train of thoughts or just drowning himself in studies, at first these helped. Till it didnt...

He wanted to do anything just to not draw himself back to her, not that he didnt want her no more— No. It was far from that, he didnt wanna hurt her again... So he tried dating someone else, thinking it'd work, and it surprisingly worked?

At first, when you guys first got together, he still thinking of shelly but you didnt know that— Ofcourse, why would he tell you?

But through out the months, you started growing on him, you had some similarities with shelly, sure, but you were so much more exciting? He couldnt find the word but you were so much more than her, you pulled him out of his comfort zone slowly without him even realizing!

You were encouraging, the type to encourage him to express what he felt, to make him accidentaly laugh out loud because of your jokes, you had a deep impact on him, he was changing but still a little nonchalant though.

You were patient with it all even if it took you a few months, and most of all caring... He couldnt deny it but sometimes, he felt like a nurtured baby with you, you often looked out for him; Cooking for him, wiping his sweat off his face after practices, so on and so on...

He felt so understood when he was with you, drawing him more to you and before he knew it— He got over her and his challenge, which was coming out his shell. And thanks to you, he was now expressing more of his feelings more freely.

You felt so proud for him, seeing how he isnt so shy now and that constant smile on his face, even his friends thought it was a surprise but they were happy for him.

He felt so nice and loved, and he now he knows he deserves that... Thanks to you, his Woman.

-------------------------------------------------- this feels insanely inaccurate, honestly but hope you gyys like it!! 🙈💗

--------------------------------------------------

Tags - @dzvelinaskebiyars @zyart-jpg @shintaru @sunariiiiiiin

[moonchildee]

"Beat It"

Pairing/s: Sabbath x Reader (Individual)

Summary: You walked in on them beating their meat.

Tags: Fluff, Childhood Friends, Suggestive

a/n: it won by a landslide TT_TT hehe it's a little rushed since it was originally a drabble i wrote! but i tweaked it a little! sorry it took so long than i promised @owenight i fell asleep and there was no electricity when i woke up lololol

You’d known Wooin for as long as you could remember.

Back when your parents’ drivers idled in matching black sedans outside your overpriced kindergarten, through the stiff, rule-choked years of elementary school where everything was neat, polished, and suffocating.

Even when he started acting out in middle school—becoming the kind of trouble other parents whispered about—you’d never really drifted.

Now, with all that prim upbringing long behind him, you still found yourself in his apartment more often than you should. You liked to call it a habit. Truth was, it was just… Wooin.

Which is how you ended up in his hallway, frowning at the unnatural quiet. No background music, no clatter from the kitchen, no trash talk through his headset. 

Just… stillness.

“Wooin?” you called, stepping over the inevitable pile of sneakers dumped by the door.

You slid your bag onto the counter like you always did, still listening for any sign of life. Nothing.

The deeper you walked in, the more it felt like stepping into a snapshot mid-chaos—hoodie slung over the couch, shirt abandoned by the coffee table. You bent to grab it, smoothing it on instinct before folding it over your arm.

And that was when you noticed the faint glow coming from his bedroom—door slightly ajar from where you can see it down the hall.

You just rolled your eyes with a soft sigh.

Didn’t think much of it because Wooin was careless with privacy in his own home like that—you’d walked in on him gaming, sleeping, or just lying around more times than you could count. So this time wouldn't be any different.

Or so you thought.

But when you pushed it open, your breath hitched. Freezing up as the nagging you were about to unleash got stuck in your throat.

Eyes on him.

There he was, sprawled in his chair. Head tipped back just enough to bare the line of his throat, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other braced on his thigh. Headphones hung half-off one ear, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded and locked on his monitor—where the porn blared, loud and wet.

Your brain stuttered, froze. The scolding you’d been ready to unleash got lodged somewhere in your throat. You didn’t even breathe for a second, heat shooting up your neck before your mind could catch up with what your eyes were seeing.

“W–Wooin—?” It tumbled out of you small and shaky, a warning, a question, a plea to erase the last three seconds.

His head snapped toward you instantly. 

The look on his face—half startle, half oh-shit—was almost enough to make you back away. His eyes wide, hissing under his breath, and for the tiniest fraction of a second, he looked like he was going to scramble, cover himself, slam the door in your face.

But then his gaze locked on yours—and he didn’t look away.

Something about it—your wide eyes, your stunned expression, the way your mouth had fallen open—seemed to snap whatever restraint he had left. 

His breathing hitched hard, his shoulders tightened, and his jaw flexed like he was biting down on something obscene. His hips gave one slow, shuddering jerk, and his head fell back again with a low, choked curse.

You saw it—saw him—spill over his fist, thick and messy, his chest rising and falling sharply as the obscene sound of it filled the quiet between you.

Your face flamed, your stomach flipping so violently you thought you might be sick. You turned halfway, hand flying up like it could block out the image searing itself into your head.

“Oh my god—!” you squeaked, your voice climbing high, breathless and panicked. Your knees felt weak, like just standing here was wrong.

You heard him inhale sharply, exhale slowly, before the room dipped into a silence so heavy it made your pulse pound louder. 

Then—of course—it was him who broke it.

“…Fuck—fuck I really came.” His voice was rough, still riding the edge of what just happened. 

“Have you ever heard of knocking?!” he groaned.

Your head whipped toward him, eyes wide, scandal coloring every inch of your face. “I didn’t think you’d be—doing that!”

He glanced down at the mess coating his hand, then back at you, smirking like a criminal caught red-handed. “What’d you think I do in here, princess? Knit sweaters?”

“You’re disgusting!”

“Yeah?” His smirk spread slowly and cocky. “Your face says otherwise—you’re blushing like you just saw your first dick.”

“I’m not—!” Your voice cracked and betrayed you instantly, and the grin that pulled across his face made you want to throw something at him. 

You spun toward the hallway. “I’m leaving!”

The scrape of his chair made your pulse spike, bare footsteps padded after you.

“Oh no, you don’t get to just walk away after that,” he drawled, close enough now that his breath ghosted your ear.

You squeaked, stumbling forward. “Wooin—!”

“Relax,” he said, voice dropping to something that was both teasing and absolutely a problem. “Since you interrupted… maybe you should help clean up.”

Your head whipped toward him. “WHA–Stop! If you touch me with that I SWEAR—!”

“Oh?” His grin sharpened. “Little mess too much for you, princess?”

“That’s not a little—!”

He laughed so hard he bent slightly, still standing way too close, his boxers riding low enough to be a crime. “God, you’re fucking cute when you’re scandalized.”

You bolted, shoving past him, nearly tripping over your own feet as you beelined for the door.

“Next time,” he called after you, tone sing-song and wicked, “I won’t waste a drop!”

You grabbed the first thing your hand touched on his counter—a pen, maybe, or a screwdriver—and chucked it at him without turning around. 

“You’re such a jerk!”

It clattered harmlessly against the floor, his laugh chasing you all the way down the hall. You didn’t look back, but you didn’t need to—you could hear the smirk in every single step until the elevator doors closed.

Hyuk's a psycho.

You’d known that for a while now—and hell if you cared. Because truthfully? He’s just a dumbass with an unhealthy passion for cycling, which sometimes feels like the most dangerous combination this earth could cough up.

It wasn’t unusual for you to swing by his place unannounced every few days, just to make sure he hadn’t landed himself in jail yet or finally kidnapped some poor stranger because he decided they “looked fast enough to race.” The odds weren’t exactly in your favor.

“Ugh—how many times have I told him to stop leaving his stupid keys under the doormat?” you muttered, fishing them out and letting yourself in.

The quiet hit you immediately—not the peaceful, cozy kind, but the weird, empty stillness that always clung to his apartment. Not surprising, considering Hyuk was basically a cryptid; if he wasn’t doing his part-time job or loitering around the crew for underground races, he was dead to the world in bed.

“Hyuk!” you called, dumping both the keys and your phone on his coffee table with a clatter. “I told you to stop leaving your keys under the mat! Your dumbass is gonna get robbed one of these days!”

Silence.

Not even a grunt from his bedroom.

You rolled your eyes, already shoving your hoodie halfway off as you made your way down the hall, ready to tear into him about his complete lack of self-preservation. Kicking his door open, you had that very specific frown on—equal parts annoyed friend and overworked babysitter—

Only to completely blank when it actually swung open.

Because—there he is.

By the bed.

Earphones in. Phone in one hand.

Cock in the other.

For a second, your brain didn’t quite register the scene. The hum of moanings from his earbuds was faint, his head tipped back against the wall, the lazy motion of his wrist so unbothered you almost wanted to punch him for it.

And then his eyes flicked open, slow, like you’d just interrupted the most casual Tuesday activity of his life.

“...You gonna stand there gawking, or close the damn door?”

You finally snapped back to life—cheeks heating so fast you almost felt dizzy, which you immediately masked behind your sharpest frown.

“It’s eleven. In the morning. WHAT THE fuck are you doing?!” you hissed, eyes darting away from his still-angry dick like it might burn holes into your corneas.

Hyuk groaned—not the embarrassed kind, not even the caught-red-handed kind. No, it was that lazy, put-out noise he makes when something interrupts his nap.

“What, I can’t get horny in the mornings now?” he muttered flatly, shoving himself back into his boxers with all the care of someone tying garbage bags. 

He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck like you were the problem here.

“I literally come here to make sure you haven’t committed a felony yet and THIS is how you greet me?!” you snapped, pacing at the foot of his bed like a scandalized babysitter. “Do you know how traumatized—how mentally scarred—how tainted my innocent soul is now?!”

He just blinked at you, clearly not sharing your sense of urgency over your corrupted purity.

“I wasn’t even done,” he grumbled under his breath, standing with a stretch like you’d interrupted him mid-TV show.

“Don’t you say that like I’m supposed to feel bad for walking in on—”

“—You literally barged into my house,” he cut in.

You threw your arms up. “I knocked! Your dumbass left your keys under the mat again! Of course I’m gonna check on you! What if you were dead?!”

Instead of replying, Hyuk reached out and—without breaking his flat, bored expression—gave you a single, almost brotherly pat on the shoulder.

“There, there,” he said, voice utterly devoid of sympathy. “You’ll be fine.”

It was only when both your eyes drifted—at the same time—to the exact hand resting on your shoulder that the air between you froze.

You stared at him. He stared back.

“…You didn’t,” you breathed in horror.

His mouth twitched, just barely, like he was considering lying but decided it wasn’t worth the energy.

“Welp,” he said simply, retracting his hand. “My bad.”

You screamed—

Lunging for him before you could think better of it. Your arm hooked around his neck in a messy headlock, dragging him down to your level while he laughed under his breath, the sound annoyingly amused.

“Apologize!” you demanded, tightening your grip.

“That’s not how apologies work,” he said, voice slightly muffled but still aggravatingly steady. 

Then, because he’s Hyuk and his brain is wired for chaos, he tilted his head enough to murmur, low and deliberate, “Y’know… if you wanted to choke me, you could’ve just asked.”

You froze for half a second—long enough for him to smirk—before tightening your hold to the point he actually coughed.

“Not that kind of choke!” you barked.

“Sure,” he rasped, still somehow sounding like he was enjoying this.

By the time you let go, you were out of breath from yelling, he was out of breath from being an ass laughing, and the smug look on his face made you want to put him right back in that headlock again.

It wasn’t anything special, really.

It was just something you do sometimes—when your mother ends up making too many side dishes, or when she wants you to go share some of the fresh lettuce from your grandmother’s over to some of your close neighbours.

And Hajun’s family just happened to be one of them—close enough that you’ve practically grown up together, playing in the same streets and occasionally having dinner over at theirs, or vice-versa. Especially now that he’s in a little tight spot these days, having to take care of his two younger brothers when their parents dipped out.

Their house wasn’t that far, just a house away from yours—and not very secure either, considering they barely close the gate—but it’s not like that matters, considering Hajun’s known for being…protective, and very much capable of defending their home.

So you barged in, a basket full of freshly washed radish in arms, ducking slightly as you stepped through their gate—calling out intrusion and immediately noticing the quiet. His brothers should be out, in their own schools, but Hajun should be home around this time.

“Yo?” you called, standing dumbly in their living room. “Hajun? My mom wants to give some radish, come get it.”

But you were met with nothing—no answer, no rustling, no footsteps that could be his. So you walked further, walking straight to the kitchen to place it by the table and glancing around—the place is clean and neat, there’s a covered dish by the stove. He should be home.

And your conclusion was proven to be true when you heard a deep grunt from one of the bedrooms right by the corner—the one closest to the living room, the room you knew Hajun took over recently.

And maybe that should’ve been the sign for you to walk away, to leave, to get the fuck out—but no, you didn’t. 

Instead, you walked up to the bedroom door, face still the same carefree one you had when you broke inside their house for some radish delivery—hand turning the knob with casualness you’ve grown for them throughout the years.

And the door opened in a careful push, along with your head as you poked inside.

“Hey—you okay in there?”

And God.

God, you should’ve walked away.

Because there he was—sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand gripping his phone, earphones dangling around his neck… and his other hand wrapped around himself. Moving. Slow, then fast, then slow again. Brows furrowed, lips parted, chest tight with every breath, and from the faint tinny moans coming from his phone—you didn’t need a degree to know what you’d just walked into.

The world went silent.

You froze. He froze.

The only thing moving was the ceiling fan.

Then the porn cut off with a sharp tap of his thumb, and Hajun moved—snapping forward to cover himself, his ears going bright red.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” he barked, voice breaking halfway between anger and panic.

“…My bad,” you said faintly, closing the door like you’d just stepped into the wrong changing room at the mall.

You barely made it three steps before you heard him scrambling—pants yanked up, shirt pulled over his head, stomping after you.

“W-wait—hold on!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!” you screamed, whipping around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “HAJUN! YOU—YOU PERVERT!”

He stopped dead when you dropped like a sack of potatoes onto your knees in the entryway, clutching your head like you’d just seen a murder scene.

“Oh my god—oh my god—” Your voice cracked, your breath coming in shallow bursts. “My eyes—Hajun—I’m tainted forever—I saw your—” Your voice broke entirely, devolving into pathetic hiccups.

“Oh for—” He crouched in front of you, trying to pull your hands away from your face. “It’s not that serious.”

“NOT THAT SERIOUS?!” you wailed, the sound bouncing off the walls. “I watched Doraemon with you! I made you soup when you were sick! I—I saw your baby pictures! And now—now—” Your voice went high and trembling. “Now I’ve seen your thing—”

“That’s what you’re freaking out about?” He sighed, rubbing his face like he was already exhausted. “You act like it’s a cursed object or something—”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” you shrieked when his hand landed on your shoulder.

He blinked. “…Why—”

“THAT’S THE SAME HAND!” you accused, pointing at it like it was a loaded weapon. “THE SAME ONE! I’M GONNA PASS OUT—”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

But you were already swaying forward, face pale, breath shallow like your body decided the only logical escape was unconsciousness.

“Hey—hey, don’t you dare faint in my house,” Hajun said quickly, catching you by the elbows before you could topple sideways.

You groaned, weak and dramatic. “I’m gonna need therapy.”

“You need to chill,” he muttered, but his grip stayed steady. “Seriously, you’re acting like I held a gun to your head—”

“WORSE,” you gasped. “You held—that—”

His mouth twitched, like he was seconds away from laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m pure!” you sobbed.

“You’re delusional,” he corrected, but softer this time, setting you back upright.

And that was when his hand brushed yours again.

The same hand.

You froze. He froze.

Your eyes dropped to it like it was some cursed relic, then slowly climbed back up to meet his.

“…Don’t,” you warned, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m not dirty—” he started, almost defensive.

“SHUT UP!” you exploded, jabbing a finger at him like a priest about to perform an exorcism. “YOU WERE BEATING YOUR JUNK LITERALLY TWO MINUTES AGO!”

The sheer conviction in your voice must’ve carried, because you immediately keeled over onto his floor in dramatic despair, clutching your head like you’d just survived a war crime.

He just stood there, staring down at you, your accusation clearly lodging itself somewhere deep in his brain. His jaw worked once. Twice. And then—

“…Was my dick that ugly?” he asked in quiet defeat, the words falling like a confession at a funeral.

You wailed even louder, curling in on yourself, because—God help you—it wasn’t ugly. It was so stupidly pretty you’d rather stab your own eyes out than admit it out loud.

Vinny’s a jerk.

But he’s a jerk you care about—so even if you know he’s just going to insult your cooking (with that unimpressed, deadpan delivery of his) before inhaling every last bite like a starving animal, you still find yourself showing up at his place with whatever questionable culinary creation you whipped up after spending way too long scrolling through random recipes online.

And it’s not like he actually told you to stop.

Okay—technically, he did. Affectionately. With a light bonk to your head and a muttered, “Quit wasting ingredients on me, idiot.” But that’s basically Vinny-speak for “I’ll keep eating it, thanks.” The man is allergic to gratitude, so you’ve learned to translate.

Which is why you’re here now, skipping your way down the familiar cracked sidewalk to his place with a pot of pasta balanced carefully in both hands. The pot’s still warm through your fingers, steam puffing up to fog your glasses for half a second as you hum some nonsense tune under your breath. You nudge his squeaky gate open with your knee, a small grin tugging at your mouth like you do own the place.

You glance toward the front of the yard, eyes catching on the lone bike leaning against the wall. No cluster of extra tires, no mismatched helmets—none of the other hummingbird crew’s rides. Good. His friends must be out, leaving Vinny to either nap, sulk, or channel his inner assholesery in peace before work.

The air smells faintly of oil and detergent, that mix of clean clothes and bike grease that’s so him. The living room light’s on, curtains half drawn. You can hear something faint deeper inside—either the low drone of a TV or Vinny muttering to himself.

So—you kicked the door open.

“I’ve come bearing gifts!” you announce dramatically—

—and then your brain just bluescreens.

Because apparently, his surprise is a lot more… vivid than yours.

The first thing you register is the messy futon on the floor.

The second is the very obvious state of his lap—cock flushed and angry in his hand, mid-stroke.

The third is the moans blaring from his phone speaker, obnoxiously loud in the dead quiet of the room.

His face is caught between pleasure and pure panic, eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight. For a good three seconds, neither of you moves—you frozen in the doorway with your stupid grin still plastered on, him frozen like a criminal caught under a spotlight.

He finally twitches—snaps his phone shut like he’s slamming a vault door, shoves himself back into his pants with too much force, and just sits there. His ears and cheeks are burning red, and he doesn’t even bother opening his eyes.

“I’m gonna count to three,” he grits out, voice low like he’s hanging onto dignity by a thread, “and if you’re not gone from my doorstep, I’m hanging you upside down from my ceiling.”

You blink.

“…Does this mean you’re not hungry?” you blurt before your brain can stop you.

His head snaps toward you so fast you swear you hear his neck crack.

“ONE.”

You squeak, stumbling back—your heel smashing into the shoe rack and sending a sandal flying. The pot wobbles dangerously in your hands, the lid rattling like a warning bell.

“Wait—! I didn’t— I wasn’t—!” you stammer, taking another step back—straight into the edge of the doorway, which jabs into your hip hard enough to make you yelp.

“Two.” His voice drops even lower, the kind of calm that says he’s one second away from combusting.

“I just wanted to feed you!!” you whine, shuffling sideways like that’ll somehow get you out faster. 

In your scramble, your elbow clips the doorframe, the pot nearly tips, and in your desperate attempt to steady it—you trip over your own foot and bonk your forehead right into the post outside.

You ended up on the ground, pot a lot safer than your behind had been.

The pain shot up at once, from your forehead and your hips—making you sniffle an, “Ow!”

That’s when he stops. You can almost hear the sigh deflating out of him. He drags himself up, muttering something under his breath you’re 80% sure is “Fucking dumbass—,” disappears for a second, then reappears with a damp hand—clearly just washed—and a small box of bandaids.

Without a word, he slaps one onto your forehead like he’s sticking a label on a jar.

You blink up at him, still holding the pasta like a peace offering.

“I-I’M LEAVING—”

He takes it from you without looking at your face, shoulders tense.

“Inside. Sit. Eat. Shut up.” His voice is clipped, almost bored, but the tips of his ears are still red.

Then, as he turns toward the kitchen, he tosses over his shoulder, “Say one word about this and I’ll hang you upside down ‘til your brain leaks out your nose.”

-

MASTERLIST

[moonchildee]

I love your sleeping habits with sabbath crew and a small part of me wonders how they'd adjust their sleeping habits for their partner who has insomnia...

It definitely stresses me out more knowing i want my partner to sleep even if i can't and not want to disrupt their routine, so it can be a point of angst there <3

I feel like sabbath crew is extremely green flag (joker, sometimes vinny) or red flag (hyuk and wooin mostly) 💀💀

xoxo 💐 🤟

SNOOZE⋆｡°✩ sabbath crew and how it would be sleeping with reader with insomnia⋆｡°✩ (A/N=heyyyy sorry for being late, super sorry if I messed it up or if its not what I had in mind...also sorry I couldn't make it angst :( ) ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

WOOIN⋆｡°✩ -At first, Wooin brushes off your tossing and turning as just another victim of endless doomscrolling. He’ll smirk, scrolling his own phone while teasing, “Girl, you’d fall asleep faster if you stopped scrolling TikTok.”(he's doom-scrolling too btw) -But one morning, when he wakes up groggy at 4 AM to pee, he finds you sitting up in bed, eyes glassy, staring at the ceiling like you’re trying to will yourself to sleep. That’s when he realizes ts serious. -He quietly slips beside you, tugging the sleep mask from his nightstand and pressing it gently over your eyes. “Try this,” he murmurs, then carefully wraps you up in the thickest blanket he owns, cocooning you like a burrito.(he breathes in your ear right after) -When that doesn’t work, he switches tactics—pulling up a low-fi playlist and humming softly, letting you lay your head on his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, and sometimes that rhythm is the only thing that keeps the silence from swallowing you whole. -Some nights, while he’s managing his shady business in the next room, you sneak in and sit beside him. Without a word, he hands you a pen and a scrap of paper. You doodle aimlessly as he works, the scratch of your pencil grounding both of you in the stillness. -Wooin’s a surprisingly thoughtful insomniac partner(my goat)!he stocks the kitchen with every herbal tea that promises sleep, though you’ve explained it’s never that simple. Still, he keeps trying because seeing you wide awake pains him in a way words can’t capture. -In the quiet hours, when the world outside feels paused, he loves staying up with you. There’s something sacred about being the only two souls awake — a secret shared in the shadows.

JOKER⋆｡°✩

-Underground fighting has trained Joker to handle exhaustion, but insomnia? ooohhhh that’s a different beast. The first time he catches you awake at 3:47 AM, restless and silent, he’s at a loss. -He settles beside you on the couch, keeping the lights dim and his phone’s glow muted. He scrolls quietly, sharing the silence so you don’t feel alone in the dark abyss. -One night, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies, you’re curled up with tea, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Without a word, he pulls you up and says, “Come with me.” You follow him out into the empty streets where the cool night air feels like a balm for your overworked mind. -He leads you through slow laps around the neighborhood, the steady rhythm of footsteps helping to burn off the restless energy crowding your head. -Sometimes, he shows you shadowboxing moves — not to fight, but also to push your body just enough so sleep sneaks in like an unexpected visitor. -When he realizes it’s not about forcing sleep, but making the awake moments softer, he shifts his approach. Back inside, he pulls you close on the couch and runs his fingers gently through your hair, the soothing touch working like a lullaby. -If sleep still evades you, he won’t let it be a lonely struggle. He’ll coax you into the kitchen, cooking up late-night snacks while humming quietly. “At least you’re not alone,” he says, voice thick with tired affection, “I’ll lose sleep if it means you don’t have to.”(awwww)

HYUK⋆｡°✩ -Hyuk’s presence during your insomnia is something else entirely—equal parts unsettling and oddly comforting. The moment you say you can’t sleep, you realize he’s been watching you for minutes, lying there with that intense, unreadable stare. -He won’t push you to rest....instead, he hooks a finger around yours and refuses to let go. It’s almost possessive—like he’s anchoring you in place, making sure you don’t drift away into restless wandering. -If you get up to pace, he silently follows, leaning against the doorway with arms crossed, eyes tracking your every move. -His weird, catlike antics start to come out — batting at your phone, dropping random trinkets in your lap like gifts, sprawling across your legs so you can’t leave the bed. -When you’re too restless, he pulls you down beside him, murmuring about “wasting energy” and trying to tangle you up in his limbs until you’re forced to surrender to stillness. -He’ll keep your mind busy, too, asking strange, deep questions that poke at your thoughts until your brain finally feels worn out enough to give in. -Sometimes, he’ll quietly kiss your knuckles, fingers intertwined under the blanket, his touch grounding you in the swirling storm of your thoughts. -And when your eyes finally close, you can feel his smug satisfaction, like he’s quietly claiming victory for helping you find peace.

VINNY⋆｡°✩

-okay he'd really try alright... -Vinny’s a mystery to your insomnia—he falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, so at first, you’re left awake, watching him sleep like a peaceful island amid your storm. -But he’s not oblivious for long. If you shift too much or sigh too loudly, his half-asleep body instinctively pulls you close, draping you across his chest as if claiming you from the restlessness. -You might be wide awake, eyes tracing shadows on the ceiling, while he mumbles nonsense in his sleep about ramen, his bike, or things that make you smile in the darkness. -His limbs lock around you—arms and legs tangled so tightly you don’t have a choice but to stay still. Oddly, that snug, trapped feeling soothes your racing mind. -When you finally admit you can’t sleep, he’ll mumble, “Don’t worry… I’ll sleep for both of us,” before slipping back under the waves of dreams.(HE'S HALF ASLEEP GUYS) -His steady breathing becomes the soft anchor that finally pulls you down into the same peaceful sleep you’ve been chasing all night. -He then wakes up guilty asf since he just slept like that while you were struggling with slumber . - Tries researching what to do for you(bro is stressed out for both of you). -Warms up milk for you to drink every night after,and starts forcing you to be tired hours before bedtime.

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Dividers by: @zyart-jpg

dedications: @wthphe1n @bfwooin @dzvelinaskebiyars @shintaru @hyukwwn, @zyart-jpg, @tsukihhhhima, @thaliasnicket, @erisawrites, @pantheonofbeauty, @i-nssomniia, @owenight, @writingbeclaws, @kuchisabishiiiii, @shimoe0405

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[moonchildee]

Shame that family oriented man has no darn post dedicated about him as future father. Gotta change that. So, Hajun x pregnant reader, lesss goo! Tagging: @shintaru @bfwooin @zyart-jpg @wthphe1n @ravenwritten @sunariiiiiiin @jayjosmalewife @pantheonofbeauty @kuchisabishiiiii @i-nssomniia @erisawrites @bunnygirlgonewild @nixruniii

When he, first, found out that you were pregnant—he finally cracked his stoic expression. That would be the first time, that you saw him trying not to cry.

After that? You'll never see him leaving your side.

He never let you lift anything heavy, but more so now. Full plastic bags from grocery shopping? Watermelon? Your own handbag? Nope, he'll carry all.

He doesn't need to be asked, he immediately adjusts.

He never, never, comes home injured anymore. You don't know if it's because he doesn't get into fights anymore, or because he's hiding his pain from you. But regardless, he doesn't want to worry you, nor get you anywhere near blood.

He adjust, his and your, food to more healthier ones. He quit drinking energy drinks too, just so you would stop.

You never run out of prenatal vitamins, he made sure of that.

He cooks for you a lot. Especially because, he knows you feel nauseous around lots of food now. So, you can trust him to take care of that.

He struggles with cleaning though. I mean, there's lot to do. For you, for him, for his brothers—yeah, he'd need help(T^T)

You gotta admit, budd. His hands definitely weren't meant for massages. They're rough, tough, as if about to tear your flesh, instead of gently soothing it.

But he tries, alright?

You feel bad for sending him to supermarket, because of whatever cravings you had, at 1AM. But he always tells you it's not a problem.

What he really struggles with tho, is your hormones. I mean, he doesn't understand why you randomly start crying, but he's making sure you know that he's with you, by your side.

Funny thing though, he doesn't talk to the bump at morning, afternoon and etc etc—when you're awake, I mean. He finds it awkward. But at night, when you're sleeping? You've been woken up by his whispering few times.

And he always whispers really awkwardly like "hi....I'm your dad." It's stupid but so cute(*>∇<)ﾉ

You and him already buy the clothes for the baby, even before they're born.

His youngest brother is probably most excited about it. He always keeps asking Hajun when the baby will be born, if he can hold them and if they'll play with him.

The middle is more chill, but he talks to your bump almost all day(´σд-｡)

Oh not only that. When Hajun cussed in front of you, his middle brother pinched him so fuckass hard and told him, "the baby can hear it!"

Surprisingly enough, he tried to be less vulgar with you around (*´꒳`*)

[moonchildee]

I'm in my parody mood again. I'm so sorry. You have to attend a yandere school: quite literally, an academy designed to train you into a proper yandere. Except you're terrible at it. So pathetic, in fact, that all the yandere-to-be students and teachers have to help you. And now they're slowly but surely falling for you. Content: gender neutral reader, horde of yanderes, parody

"For the last time, (Y/N)..." the teacher sighs, mild frustration creasing his features. "You can't be a cool and aloof yandere if you look this tense."

"I thought I'm supposed to obsessively stare at my crush from the window", you argue, waving away some cherry blossom petals that were blown by the wind straight into your face.

"Yes, but no one can tell you're a yandere yet. Your gaze must be indifferent, idle, bored. Do you understand?"

You're a lost cause. The older man readjusts your body's position with pursed lips. You'll never be a proper yandere with this attitude. He should be angry about it - Yan Academy dons an unmatched reputation of flawless success. Every student graduates with impeccable results. Well, except for you. And yet, he's almost enjoying the repeated efforts, the daily observations, the additional training you require.

A thought crosses his mind: what would you even do without his help? You'd be lost. You need him to succeed. He shakes his head in embarrassment, swiftly shoves his glasses further up the nose, and coughs.

"Meet me after class. I'll be in my office."

"Again?"

The words escape your lips before you can stop yourself. His brows furrow, and he lifts your chin with his index finger, responding in a deeper voice:

"Yes. Until you learn to act properly, (Y/N)."

“What’re you doing now? We were going to hang out at my place, so we can practice efficient stalking methods.”

Your classmate smiles at you, almost pleadingly. Oh, if only you’d join them. How else will you manage? He can already picture your confused, innocent expression as you try to keep up with them.

You were made to be stalked, not the other way around.

“I can’t”, you whine. “Teacher wants me to stay behind again.”

The students stare at you with a peculiar glimmer in their eye. This bastard…is he trying to keep you all to himself? He should be minding his damn business and leave such matters to people who’re closer to you. They know you better. They’d do a much better job at…training you.

You feel a tug behind you. The classmate removes your backpack and throws it over his shoulder.

“Fuck that. You’re coming with me.”

[More parodies original work] | [Part 2] | [Part 3]

[moonchildee]

originally i wanted to put all 8 chairs to just be wooin but that would be boring so 🤷‍♀️

omfg but thinking about that makes me dizzy imagine 8 wooins feeling u up ahhh sedate me

[moonchildee]

GENSHIN IMPACT!AU + WINDBREAKER

HEADCANONS!

NOTE: It will be a long series of works! Thank you, @shintaru, thanks to whom it appeared, she is also an accomplice, it's a collab

TAGS: traveler!Reader, definitely a deviation from the canon

@sylith @dzvelinaskebiyars @zyart-jpg dividers: @uzmacchiato

MASTERLIST

WOOIN YOO

"the one who gave up a rich past"

ELEMENT: Hydro

constellation: snake — it is said that in ancient times, when gods existed, there was a time when a large snake attacked one of the gods, who was later defeated by a goddess, and after his death, he became a winding pattern in the sky. according to forgotten myths, people believed that they brought danger and rebirth.

PAST:

Wooin is the former heir of the Yoo household, who deals in trade all over the continent, supplying a wide variety of goods to different regions. The Yoo clan provides high-quality weapons, magical artifacts, and various armor made for all segments of society, from low-cost production to high-end levels, including some production on the illegal market. Mana-boosting potions or artifacts that purport to awaken your magical powers if you don't possess the Eye of God. his family always encouraged potential mages or fighters in whom they saw great potential, making equal contracts with them, in which they would provide them with their power, and the Yoo clan would give them everything they needed in return, as long as they needed such puppets. just like Wooin. one of the continent's most capable swordsmen, a rising star of the clan, his father's pride, who had fled his family after they had become disillusioned with him. it was terrible and disgusting. one random incident that befell the future heir, a trauma and the inability to be the best of the best afterward. a broken toy and no family feelings or compassion under the weight of random events. his father didn't even visit him back then, just a few subordinates telling him "the clan head is looking for a new candidate to be the heir." that's it, they're looking for a replacement. he could have stayed, still holding a high position, even without receiving the throne that was destined for him since birth, but did he want that? no.

present:

Wooin is a member of his own team, Shabbat, which he organized with his friend Hyuk. Neither of them is a member of a guild or any other organization, but they are well-known for their exceptional abilities and strength, and they are often approached with various requests for a substantial amount of money. Do you want to obtain some illegal jewelry from another region? Or perhaps you want to eliminate some competitors in the trade? just contact them and get your big wallet of money ready, because quality takes time and finances, and you're guaranteed to get what you want.

Wooin used to use potions to increase his magical efficiency, but he soon gave it up because "it tasted like shit." The effect was also short-lived, and he could have used the Delusion, created by the Fatui organization, but using a short burst of his energy for a brief moment at the cost of several years of his life was not what he wanted.

he uses a custom-made sword with his team's emblem. his swordsmanship skills are still at a high level, even though he keeps his sword in a scabbard most of the time. his opponents often mistake him for the weak link of the team, until they encounter his true strength.

his magical element is hydro. he uses and maintains a small water barrier around his body, which prevents others from leaving any wounds on him, providing him with absolute protection. when he accumulates a large amount of magical energy, he can form a massive water entity in the form of a giant snake, which presses down on his enemies and destroys them. Wooin's ability also helps him concentrate a water field around him, with a limited range that allows him to sense other people's searchers within and automatically attack them. he rarely uses this ability due to the intense physical strain.

He always has a few medicinal potions in his luggage to keep himself in shape.

In a team, he often acts as a strategist, allowing others to attack and providing full support for his team. However, if the outcome of the battle changes, he steps in to draw attention to himself as one of the formidable opponents, giving his teammates time to recharge.

There are several magical symbols and tattoos on his body. One day, in a tavern, a man told him about a traveling artist who paints on other people's skin using magical powers for various purposes. Wooin received several tattoos, but he cannot say for sure whether they work or not. However, he enjoys them.

Meeting with a traveler:

He had heard a lot about a traveler who had made headlines and was the talk of other people from different regions, listening to many stories about him, even in Inazuma, and always standing up to the Fatui. He was curious to see who this person was, and perhaps even take him on if Wooin was that interested in him. Therefore, he was pleasantly surprised to encounter you in Sumeru when he was smuggling a few Akasha Terminal for transportation abroad.

"I never thought I'd get to meet a famous traveler in person so soon," Wooin says as he sits next to you at the bar, tilting his head to the side and examining you from head to toe. He extends his hand with a sly smile on his face, "My name is Wooin, but you can call me whatever you like."

You look at him awkwardly, reaching out to shake his hand in greeting. Half of his face is covered by his glasses, and on the visible side of his palm, there are several tattoos with symbols that you can't read. Could they be runes or a language you don't understand? As you touch the tips of your fingers to his hand, Wooin pulls your palm towards his lips, leaving a small, delicate kiss on your knuckles as he gazes at you.

"I know a good place here, you know it's not easy to find entertainment in Sumeru. Everyone's so obsessed with books," he says in a lower voice, leaning closer to your face, stroking your palm with his thumb, until you pull your hand away and stand up from your seat. "No, thank you."

You grumble, trying to leave the place as quickly as possible. He doesn't move, sitting upright with his arms resting on the bar counter.

Wooin knows that he will see you again, he just needs to be patient.

HYUK KWON

"a doll whose heart once beat"

ELEMENT: electro

constellation: dragon — according to forgotten legends, there was a Titan named Draco who went to war against the gods. however, he lost and was sent to heaven, where he froze around the North Pole.

PAST:

one of the Archon's discarded toys. that's what he called himself. when the Electronic Archon tried to create a doll for his mind, Hyuk was the first successful version. a prototype. but they couldn't achieve their true goal because of a mistake. the doll is still a doll that can't recognize human emotions well enough. Hyuk's first memory is of a dirty beach by the sea, surrounded by dead insects whose wings and legs he tore off out of boredom as he watched the sun rise and set. and the many Tanuki who watched him from the depths of the forest, never daring to approach him, too afraid to do so. And if it weren't for the curious foxes who approached this unknown creature out of curiosity, he would have remained sitting there. Hyuk doesn't know what strange desire to follow them awakened in his unbeating heart, but it was there. And after that, he lived and existed among the wicked and the Ekai, who were not part of human society. they even gave him a name. and they taught him to be mischievous. for many centuries, he spent time with them, until a man wandered into the forest. too strange, clumsy, but incredibly intriguing with his power. later, he will introduce himself as Wooin. and even later, he will call him his friend and teammate who travels with him.

PRESENT:

one of the members of the Shabbat team, which does not belong to any organization. they just take on various jobs for good money, nothing more.

Wooin immediately told him that his appearance in the forest was not accidental. Hyuk's figure has been shrouded in secrets and legends for centuries, and the "mad snake" has been trying to find and possess him. As a result, they formed the Shabbat team.

Hyuk believes that his "mistake" has made it difficult for him to understand others, but he can still experience emotions on a lower level. This has prevented him from fully embracing his humanity. However, it may take time to become a human being.

He seems to be able to go unnoticed by many people around him due to his nature and the creatures he has "grown up" with. Most people do not notice his presence, but he is still known as the Grim Reaper due to his weapons and fighting techniques.

One day, out of boredom, he entered one of the largest scientific archives in Sumeru, where he learned about Khaenri'ah.

Hyuk is the attacking link of his team. He uses a scythe weapon with two tips at the end. With the help of the Electro Eye of God, he often uses fast movement, leaving an electric charge behind him. To hit opponents from a greater distance, he uses magic in his weapon to create an electric shock wave. When moving quickly, Hyuk can leave behind residual energy entities, which are followed by a small explosion.

all of his fighting techniques are all about improvisation, set on instincts in most cases, however if the fight is more serious, Hyuk is subject to Wooin's strategic thinking, fulfilling whatever he wants, guaranteed to bring victory to the team.

when he goes into dungeons with his team, he is more focused on the monsters. considers places like this to be a good place where he can use his power to the maximum. however, he has not been able to find out his exact limits.

sometimes he can really disappear for a few days, but he always returns by the time his team takes on a task.

Hyuk never styles his hair, as it always has a strange shape due to being electrified.

He still struggles to understand the concept of trading, as he simply takes what he wants without paying for it.

his body doesn't need food or sleep, but that doesn't mean he doesn't indulge in extra pleasure. However, he intentionally disables his sensory abilities to take a nap. Hyuk also accidentally stole banana milk, which led to a fixation on it.

Meeting with a traveler:

he was never the type of person who would seek out someone, be someone's obsession because of their powers. but here you were, Hyuk had heard about you and your uniqueness - someone who doesn't have a god's eye, but can use various elements. it was unthinkable, strange, and intriguing.

You draw your weapon to make your first strike, but you feel the air around you changing. It becomes thicker, hotter, and sharper. You see your enemy, who caught you off guard when you emerged from the dungeon, stop and fall to the ground in a convulsive fit.

"should such trash be worth so much attention?" The voice behind you sounds lazy, concealing the threat when you turn your head back. A guy in a hood appeared behind you, lifting your chin up so quickly, running his eyes over your face, passing a small electric charge over your skin without any harm.

his presence is sticky, oppressive, making your heart beat faster, like a rabbit being cornered, "how do you do that?"

you swallow as you twitch at his voice to step back, leaving his hand hanging in the air "doing what?". you see the corner of his mouth twitch. his eyes are still fixed on you, "using multiple elements without a god's eye, don't be a fool."

you frown. you don't know how you did it. you could tell him about who you are, that you're not from around here, that you're not from this world, but your instinct tells you not to, it screams at you to keep quiet. the guy sees it, knows that he won't get an answer, or rather, he doesn't expect you to give it to him so easily.

"My name is Hyuk," he says as he lowers his hood, revealing his face. He takes a step towards you, only to be met with the tip of your sword at his face. "Be careful, this thing can kill you," but he doesn't seem alarmed. He doesn't even flinch when you point your weapon at him.

The man who tried to attack you earlier makes a weak gurgling sound as he continues to convulse. You glance back at him. Could this Hyuk have hit him too hard, causing him to die, or could he have—

"you're too distracted" his presence behind you, his voice near your ear, appearing out of nowhere in an instant, sending a chill down your spine, causing you to turn around and thrust your sword at him, but you didn't even touch him. He was too quick.

"I think we'll have to meet again when you're in a better mood."

it seems that his voice is heard around you with remnants, without any presence next to you, like a shadow that is always fixed to your back. looking around, you may not notice his presence nearby. but Hyuk is watching, hiding in the shadows, sees you checking the pulse of a man on the ground.

He saw how you were going to use your powers to attack him. If it weren't for an important meeting with the team in a few hours, he would have stayed to experience it on his own body, every blow and every bit of strength.

Hyuk will leave now, but he will definitely come back later.

JOKER/PARK HAJUN

"justice and the sword are his faithful companions, even with a peaceful sky above his head"

ELEMENT: cryo

constellation: lion — according to legends, a long time ago, there was a wild beast that attacked settlements and civilians. and no weapon could kill it. until a hero defeated it with his bare hands. in gratitude for defeating it, the god turned the lion's skin into a constellation in the sky, so that people would remember the hero's feat.

PAST:

Hajun is a former soldier from Fontaine who defended the borders of his state and maintained law and order by dealing with criminals. The scars on his body are a testament to his struggles and his belief in justice. As the strongest warrior in his region, Hajun took pride in his abilities, constantly honing his skills and maintaining his strength. However, he eventually became disillusioned with the legal system. What must it be like to witness the destruction of what you truly believed in? The biggest scar was on his heart, the night his younger brothers were falsely accused. They were branded as criminals. Hajun remembers the coldness that enveloped his back, the freezing air that surrounded him as he resisted the court's decision. They fled, taking refuge on ships and in cheap hotels to find a place to stay for the night. He began working for dirty money to support his family, the only family he had left. there is no room for revenge in his heart, only the disappointment of the past and the hope that his brothers will see the peaceful sunrise the next day.

PRESENT:

in one of the journeys on a pirate ship, he met a "snake" who promised to pay him a lot of money for a guard position. Thus, he became a member of the Shabbat.

He spends most of his time on missions to send almost all of his earnings to his younger brothers, who now live in Mondstadt.

He rarely speaks, and at one point, Wooin thought he had speech problems.

always dressed in battle gear to be ready if the enemy attacks them, even in the hottest weather.

his weapon is a large sword that must be held with two hands. he wields it skillfully, holding it as if it weighs nothing.

Hajun relies more on his physical strength than on the Eye of God. However, he sometimes uses his abilities to freeze his weapons in order to deal additional damage to his enemies. He can also create a cold aura around himself, causing others to feel unwell due to the temperature fluctuations. If there are many enemies in the area, he can shake the ground by thrusting his weapons into the soil, causing ice and frozen blocks to form around him.

Interestingly, his body is hotter than it appears to be for a Cryo user.

He is a defender or support member of the team. He always takes the first hit, blocking it with his body or an ice shield created using the Eye of God.

If he loses his weapon during the fight, he freezes his fists into ice boxing gloves.

He is nicknamed "Joker" because of the smile that appears on his face when he encounters strong opponents.

Despite his past, he remains true to his principles and continues to help travelers in need. One day, Hajun saved a kind-hearted elderly woman who was struggling to transport goods for her store. When several street thugs harassed her in search of food and jewelry, he intervened. However, he was too embarrassed by the praise for his actions and remained silent as he assisted her in unloading the goods.

before one of the dungeons, he found a lost puppy. He was so confused that he started giving it healing potions from Wooin's bag. He tried to hide the animal for a couple of weeks before the others found out. "He's attached to me" was Hajun's only argument, and everyone else left him with the team.

after he left the Fontaine service, he got several tattoos that cover his scars on his right arm and face. When his younger brother saw them, he was so scared at first that he wouldn't even approach Hajun, which upset him a lot. But after a while, when it became normal, his brother started painting his arm with colored paint.

He rarely sees his brothers, but he often sends them letters. However, there are far more questions about their condition than there are stories about themselves. But he can afford to do so when he returns home to them.

avoids the tavern in Mondstadt at all costs, because the last time he went there, Hajun got drunk too quickly from just one drink.

meeting the traveler:

Hajun had heard about the traveler, but he never knew what she looked like. he wanted to fight her until he found out that she was a girl.

"Who are you?" The Joker extends his palm towards the stranger, creating ice on his skin. he sees a man whose face is hidden by a hood easily dodging his punch. his eyes are fixed on his puppy in the hands of an unknown person, "I asked who you are."

"I'm sorry, sir..." you awkwardly shrink back, revealing your face. A small puppy sits in your arms, too scared by the tense atmosphere, "...this little one stole my potion bottle, and I was chasing after it to get it back."

As you sheepishly bow your head, Joker stands in a daze. Damn it, the stranger turned out to be a girl. And he almost hit you, "I'm sorry," his apology comes out quieter as a thin layer of ice reforms on his arms, straightening up. he sees you carefully trying to take the glass bottle out of the puppy's mouth, awkwardly glancing up.

Hajun swallows in an attempt to moisten his dry throat as he takes a step towards you. He sees you freeze, your legs slightly parted as if you're ready to escape his blow once again, "let me help you," but he doesn't, like some scumbag about to do you wrong. He stops two steps away, waiting for you to pass the puppy into his rough, calloused hands.

his fingers comb through the soft fur beneath him, carefully pulling the vial out of the animal's mouth to hand it to you. you exhale to take your item, touching the tips of his fingers, which are too warm for someone whose hands were covered in ice moments ago, "thank you."

you fumble with the lock on your bag to put the potion back in, and his gaze wanders over you. he's thinking. you're definitely shorter than him, which is a big advantage for you to avoid his punch, but your reaction? it's too quick. and his brain is now overloaded, "You seem like a good warrior."

the words come out without any thought, Joker spits it out a second before he realizes it himself. but you're already looking up at him, "you too," you shake your head, smiling softly as you tuck your bag behind your back, leaving it hanging from one shoulder, "you seemed to appear out of nowhere with your quick strike."

you shake your head, glancing at the puppy in his arms, and you can see his fingers trembling slightly. could it be from nerves? The Joker is silent, watching carefully as he takes on your appearance, and the words now stick in his mouth, forcing him to breathe through his nose.

"I think I should go," you stand awkwardly in your place, your mind too empty from the events of the day, the whole rushed situation, you're ready to turn around but you stop.

pause.

"I'm new here. well, in Mondstadt. can I ask for your help? the city seems small but it's still big for me," you speak too hastily, waving your hands in front of you, brushing the loose strands of hair back behind your ear. and then there's a long, long second before he nods. so slowly, "Yes.. I can."

you smile at him, throwing a thank you, arranging a meeting for tomorrow morning to disappear into the city's alleys. a small whine catches Hajun's attention as he brings the puppy closer to his face, burying his nose in its fur, exhaling, "damn it, what have you gotten me into now... I haven't even told her my name."

and perhaps his stern demeanor softens for a moment as his cheeks warm and his heart beats faster in anticipation of tomorrow.

next Vinny, Owen, Kaneshiro and drabbles