nyctoseraph

[nyctoseraph]

what the cat dragged in

[yan! michael kaiser x fem! reader, childhood friends au.] synopsis: your grandfather once cautioned you against feeding strays. it’s a lesson you wouldn’t fully learn until many years later. words: 4.6k cw: yandere themes - obsession, possessiveness, implied stalking, slight dubcon (no nsfw). a/n: [head in hands] this was supposed to be a drabble

“You be careful with that, now.”

At the sound of your grandfather’s voice, you glance over your shoulder, fixing your attention on the man standing in the doorway, propped up against his cane. Your knees and face are smeared with mud, as any seven year-old’s would be. 

You turn back around, cooing gently at the scraggly kitten that eats the canned tuna out of the palm of your hand. You lift your free hand to scratch at its head, smiling as it nuzzles into your hand before going back to the food.

“Why?” You ask innocently. “It’s so cute.”

“It’s a stray,” your grandfather says, voice dripping with disgust on the last word. “If you feed it, it’ll keep coming back.”

You frown. Would such a thing be so bad? If the poor little guy was hungry, you would happily indulge it; after all, withholding such a vital thing to its survival would be cruel.

“But it’s hungry,” you whine. The kitten polishes off the rest of the tuna before looking up at you and meowing loudly, bumping its head against your palm. Your heart soars at the endearing action.

“I’m serious,” your grandfather snaps at you in the tone that tells you you’ll be in trouble if you don’t listen. You give the kitten one last pet before reluctantly retracting your hand. You bite down on your warbling lip and blink away tears when it meows at your sudden absence in confusion and protest.

You walk over to your grandfather, and he takes your small wrist into his hand. He takes in your crestfallen expression and sighs, shaking his head.

“It’s for the best,” he says softly. “You don’t want strays getting attached to you.”

You look up at him with big, watery eyes. “Why not?”

“Because no matter how much you feed them, they’ll always be hungry, and then they’ll never leave you alone.”

Despite your grandfather’s warning, you continue to feed the kitten.

You’re careful to do it somewhere he won’t catch you, though. It’s summer, so you’ve been spending a lot of your time in the park that’s only around the block from your house. Turns out the kitten has been spending lots of time sunbathing there, too, so you make sure to start sneaking out some canned tuna with your packed lunch.

You walk past the swingset and toward the large, twisting slide that you’ve gotten used to finding the kitten under this time of day. Your small purple lunch bag bounces against your leg as you skip happily, swinging your arms animatedly. The tune you’re humming gets stuck in your throat and dies as you duck under the play structure and find a small figure already huddled beneath the slide.

A boy in a black hoodie two sizes too big for his frail body sits criss-cross on the floor. Bruised hands gently pet the kitten, which is curled up in his lap and purring softly. He can’t be that much younger than you— probably only by a year— but he seems far smaller than the kids in the grade below you at school, concerningly so.

His head snaps up as your feet come into his line of his vision, wide, impossibly blue eyes locking onto yours. He flinches so hard that the kitten yowls and jumps out of his lap, startled. He curls in on himself defensively and his breathing becomes labored, yet his wide eyes never leave you, tracking your every movement.

You blink in confusion at his reaction. “Um,” you start to say, but you’re cut off by a loud meow cutting through the air.

You turn to the kitten, which has now settled at your side and is pawing at your lunch bag. You giggle— of course, it’s already come to know where its next meal is coming from. You pick up the bag and unzip it, producing the canned tuna from inside it. You grunt as you tug at the tab a few times, but finally it gives way and comes off cleanly. You place it down, and the kitten eagerly prances up to it and starts eating out of it.

After a long moment of watching it eat, your eyes drift back to the boy across from you. His eyes are locked onto the kitten with such focus that it’s concerning.

Then, you realize he’s not looking at the kitten— he’s looking at the tuna sitting on the floor.

You reach back into your bag and take out a sandwich secured tightly in saran wrap. You unwrap it then split it in half, extending your arm out to offer it to the boy.

His eyes dart down to the sandwich and back to you, but he doesn’t make any move to take it.

“Here,” you say, waving your arm up and down in emphasis. “You can have some, if you want. Mom always packs too much for me, so I’m okay sharing with you!”

He glances back down at the sandwich and hesitates for just a moment more before his hand shoots out, snatching it out of your own and quickly bringing it to his mouth. You avert your eyes back to the kitten as he eats it, slowly working through your own half of your lunch.

When you’re done, you peek into the bag to see what else your mom packed for you. There’s a small bag of chips, an orange, and a banana. Maybe it’s a little selfish to keep the chips for yourself, but the boy seems to be just as eager when you set the fruits in front of him, so it’s probably fine.

He finishes eating before you do, and slowly, he inches closer toward you and the cat. He begins petting it again, stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. 

Finished with your snack, you crumple the bag up and throw it into your lunch bag before zipping it back up. You brush your hand off on your pants, leaving a smatter of chip dust behind that your mom will probably chide you for later. 

You look up at the boy, who is already staring at you. He flushes red and is about to look away when you hold your hand to him and introduce yourself.

You tilt your head toward him with a warm smile. “What’s your name?”

Michael waits for you under the slide the next day, and the next, and the one after that.

Days bleed into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. You become permanent fixtures in each other’s lives. You bring snacks and books, bandages and a gentle touch and an unspoken oath to never ask, never pry. He brings nothing but himself, but for you, that is enough.

Your mother never asks why you pack extra food, or where it’s ending up. She likely just chalks it up to you being a growing girl, and for that, you are grateful.

There are some days, though, where you’re being looked after by your father, who chides you for taking more than you need and makes you put the extras back in the pantry. On those days, you apologize to Michael for the smaller portions you both have, but he simply brushes it off. He says he couldn’t care less if you show up with no food at all, so long as you show up.

At some point, it stops being about the food, you just fail to realize it. Michael never breaks his habit of trailing behind you like your own shadow, and he’s not exactly a sociable person (in fact, his glare alone scares off any other kids your age who try to approach you two), so you figure there’s still something he wants from you. And because of your upbringing, hand-holding and leaning against each other and hugging is something so normal to you that you cannot even begin to suspect that there is something much different he’s actually after.

You’re fourteen and he’s thirteen the first time he kisses you.

It’s a sunny day, but not too hot; there’s a nice breeze in the air that keeps you cool as you sit in the grass, idly popping grapes into your mouth as you watch Michael kick a ball into a wall over and over again, as is customary for you two these days. As always, he eventually wears himself out and finds his way over to you, collapsing beside you and leaning his full body weight against your side as you complain and futilely try to push him off.

“Micha, get off,” you whine, shoving at his shoulder. He doesn’t budge, and instead sighs in irritation and wraps his arms around yours to stop your attempts. “You’re heavy!”

“Your fault for feeding me so much,” he mumbles into your shoulder, prompting you to roll your eyes. “Seems like oversight on your part.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have if I knew you’d grow up to be this annoying.” Your words lack heat, of course— you don’t really mean it, and even if it wasn’t evident by your tone, it’s evident in the way you relax into his embrace. “Seriously, though. You’re all sweaty. It’s gross.”

Michael gives one last aggrieved sigh before releasing you. He reaches for the water bottle set beside you and drinks from it, and you go back to your grapes.

A comfortable silence settles between you two as you observe the other people in the park. It’s summer, so it’s busier than usual, which means Michael will probably leave sooner rather than later.

You turn to look at him, but as always, he’s already looking down at you. 

You tilt your head to the side. “Do you need something?” You ask playfully.

Michael stares at you a moment longer, the wind rustling his hair into his face. Then, he leans down so quickly that you can’t react before he presses his lips to yours.

It’s soft, gentle. It’s barely there, his desire contained by a hesitation you haven’t seen within him in so long. 

When you don’t respond, he pulls back, his face carefully smoothed over into a blank canvas, but you know him better than that. Fear dances in his eyes, fear that he’s overstepped and swung a sledgehammer straight into your friendship.

You blink rapidly, trying to pull yourself together. “Oh,” you say, smartly, and then feel yourself flush red as you fully process what just happened. 

“Sorry,” he mutters under his breath. It sounds wrong coming from him, and you reach out to grab his arm just as he starts to withdraw into himself.

“Hey, look, it’s fine. I just— you just caught me by surprise. That’s all.”

He looks back at you, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His blue eyes are shining, but there’s something dark in them that you haven’t seen before, something you can’t quite place.

“It’s fine?” He echoes in question.

You feel your face grow hotter.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, “it’s fine.”

When he leans down this time, you respond in kind.

You’re always the one to break off the kisses shared between you two.

At this point, you’re convinced he’s not human, given the way that lack of air never seems to be a problem for him. If anything, he seems more annoyed by the fact that you’ve stopped kissing him than the fact that he’s nearly panting from how long he’s gone without taking a proper breath. 

He’s insatiable, you quickly find out. Shockingly, for a few weeks following your first kiss, he spends more of his time kissing you under the slide than playing football. When you get tired or want to take a break, he just opts to hold you in a tight embrace until you’re ready to kiss again or have to leave. 

Eventually, his initial enthusiasm dies down, but his way of kissing you never changes. Shallow, rapid kisses swapped between inexperienced middle schoolers, but he never lets up, always eager to meet your lips again and take in your breath in place of oxygen.

You never put a name to whatever’s happening between you two. You’re not friends anymore, that much is clear, but you two don’t have the means of going out on dates, either.

Regardless of what you are, he becomes clingier than ever following the shift in your relationship, and a small part of you can’t help but feel like you’re suffocating.

“Micha.”

He looks up from the ball at his feet, skillfully dribbling it despite the fact that his focus is elsewhere. It’s impressive; hopefully, one day, you’ll be able to see him play professionally.

Your heart sinks to your stomach and sits there heavily. Would that be the next time you see him? On some screen, miles away from him, years from this moment in this time?

You’re moving out of Berlin. Your father’s being suddenly transferred to an office in Cologne, and you have just five days to get all your stuff packed up and ready to go for the train ride on Sunday. You have a shitty starter phone— your parents aren’t keen on you having a smartphone, yet— but Micha has nothing. You suppose you could write to him, but that would put him at risk if his father got to the mail before he did.

When he catches the look on your face, he settles the ball at his feet and locks his full attention on you. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow, averting your gaze to the ground. “I’m moving,” you mumble.

A thick silence settles between you two. The soft breeze is sharp in your ears, like deafening static reverberating through your head.

His voice comes out sharp, digging in a way you’ve never heard it before. “What?”

“I’m moving,” you repeat. “I’m leaving. Dad’s job— we’ve got to go to Cologne.”

He doesn’t respond for so long that you finally force yourself to look up at him. His face has gone completely blank, and there’s only something dark in his eyes, something completely unreadable to you.

His voice is tight when he asks, “When are you coming back?”

“I—” You sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t think I am. I think the transfer’s permanent.”

He looks down, seemingly mulling over your words. When he looks up again, his gaze goes is cold, and he hums, straightening out. “No.”

You blink, confused. “No?”

“You’re not leaving.”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

He looks down at you derisively, seemingly irritated that he has to repeat himself. “I said you’re not leaving.”

“I can’t just not leave,” you spit out. He’s starting to be ridiculous, and his condescension has never been something that bodes well with you, having only been on the receiving end of it so few times. “I’m not gonna have any family here.”

He jostles the ball between his feet as if this is another one your shared mundane conversations. “So we’ll just run away together.”

You narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

He slants a side look at you. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, voice getting higher with each word, “just two teenagers running away and figuring out how to make ends meet. Can you please take this seriously?”

His foot comes down on top of the ball, hard. He flicks a finger between you two. “I am the only one taking this seriously.”

“This,” you echo, incredulous. “A stupid relationship.”

He kicks the ball to the side and turns to face you fully, and that’s how you know you fucked up. Each word bites as he asks, “Is that all this is to you?”

“You know I care about you, Micha,” you say carefully, “but asking me to throw away my family to stay with you is insane.”

Something shutters in his expression, but it’s gone before you can even register it. “I knew it,” he spits, “you’ve never cared about me as much as you’ve led me to believe.”

You grit your teeth. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs. “You obviously don’t value me as much as I value you.”

“Oh my god,” you snap, “you are fourteen. Get the fuck over yourself.”

“You think this is meaningless because we’re young?”

“I think,” you hiss, “that we have our whole lives ahead of us. I wouldn’t ask you to stay by my side if you had bigger and better things ahead of you.”

He continues to stare at you in icy silence. You sigh, frustrated.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work itself out,” you say.

Michael tilts his head, as if considering this. His eyes wander your face, committing every bit to memory. Then, he walks over to you, seizing your wrist in his hand. You step back, a bit thrown off, but he lightly tugs on your arm, pulling you back toward him. 

“It will work out,” he says, eyes boring into yours. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He leans down and presses a familiar, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Then you won’t have to leave me ever again.”

This time, when you pull away, he lets you go. Seemingly without a care in the world, he turns around and picks up the ball, heading toward the trail that he takes home.

You return to the park the day before you leave, but you don’t see him. You wait for hours, but he never shows.

The unease twisting in your gut doesn’t unravel until the train speeds away from the station, leaving Berlin behind you.

You’re about to turn eighteen when you see him again.

Not in person, but on a screen like you expected. The name Michael Kaiser sits in a scrolling bar across the bottom of the screen which plays footage of him playing on Bastard München’s youth team, his long golden hair flowing behind him beautifully. The news anchor says something about him being one of the most promising players of the new generation— not that that’s something you need to be told.

Your friend says something from across the table, ripping your attention from the screen. You don’t notice how tense you’ve gotten until you relax again.

Despite the lingering feeling of unease his memory leaves you with, you’re still glad he made it, after all.

“Who’s this?”

You’re back home for the holidays during your second year in university. Your studies have taken you back to Berlin, albeit a part you hadn’t grown up near and is still new and fresh to you. “Home” might not be the right word, though— you’re spending Christmas Eve at your grandmother’s house. She’s been hosting your entire family the past couple years since your grandfather’s passing forced her to relocate to a smaller house, an attempt to fill the empty home with warm presences.

Currently, she’s playing with a small, bedraggled dog that has wandered onto her porch. It’s wheezy and staggers when it walks, indicative of its old age.

“Oh, just a sweet little thing,” your grandmother replies as she pets its back. “You know, your grandfather always hated it when I would feed the strays. I did it a lot back at the old house on the other side of town, but there’s not too many animals on this side, so I don’t really do it anymore.”

You consider the dog. Its fur is matted, but nonetheless, its tail wags so hard from your grandmother’s attention that its whole body shakes with it. It sneezes pathetically.

You shove your hands into your coat pockets. “So this is a new one, then?”

“Well, not quite.” Your grandmother chuckles. “I first met this little guy back at the old house. I’ve been feeding him since he was a puppy! Seems he found his way back home on his own.”

“Huh.” Your eyes snap back to her. “I didn’t think they could actually do that.”

She laughs some more. “The most determined and loved ones can.”

You retreat back into the house. Your younger cousins jump on you immediately, demanding you play whatever nonsensical game they’ve thought up this time. You shed your coat, and with it, your lingering distress at your grandmother’s words.

“Oh my god, do you have a secret admirer?”

Your roommate’s voice pulls you out of your shocked state. The dread freezing your veins gradually thaws out, and you kneel down to pick the bouquet of flowers off the floor in front of the entrance to your shared apartment.

Blue forget-me-nots, with some blue roses interspersed throughout.

It’s October now. Just under a year has passed since Christmas, but your grandmother’s words are fresh in your mind, as if you’d heard them just yesterday.

You fumble around with the bouquet, movements becoming more frantic when you can’t find what you’re looking for. “There’s no card attached to this.”

“Well, duh,” your roommate says. “That would defeat the purpose of a secret admirer.”

Except, it’s not a secret who sent you these. You might have been able to brush it off if it was just the forget-me-nots, but the roses speak for themselves.

You flick your wrist out to the side, shoving the bouquet into your roommate’s chest. She grabs onto them, so you let them go in favor of getting the door unlocked.

“Figure out what to do with them,” you say as you enter the apartment.

She trails in after you, hot on your heels in incredulity. “Wait, you’re seriously not going to keep them?”

“You know I’m not interested in a relationship right now,” you say breezily, feigning a calmness that contradicts your racing heart. “It’s a sweet gesture, but I don’t want them.”

“I mean—” Your roommate stammers a bit before her words peter out. She sighs, then starts rummaging in the cabinet beneath the sink. “Alright, whatever you say.”

She ends up arranging them in a nice glass vase you weren’t aware you two even own and sets them in the center of the dining table. They mock you until they wither and die, and you can finally dispose of them.

By the time February rolls around without any further incidents, your guard has lowered significantly, which is, of course, your first mistake.

You’re lounging on the couch in the common space when there’s light knocking at your apartment door. There’s mostly college students renting in this unit, so it’s not uncommon for someone to stop by and invite you to some party or other, and with Valentine’s around the corner, there’s sure to be plenty.

You set your laptop down on the coffee table and get to your feet, sliding your feet into your slippers and crossing the room to get to the apartment entrance. You reach up and begin to undo the locks without checking the peephole, which is your second mistake.

You pull the door open, and immediately, everything freezes in place.

His eyes are as blue as the day you met him, only his gaze is far sharper than they were even on the day you left. 

The television and billboards really don’t do him justice. He’s fully grown into his figure now, the diet and training regimen of a professional athlete filling him out in ways that the portioned-out food fed to him from your hands could not. His hair is choppy, but a face that gorgeous can make anything work. It’s pulled up into a messy bun made to look regal by the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. The blue rose on his neck is stark against his skin, and you eye the thorny vines that trail down and disappear beneath his shirt.

You meet his eyes again, apprehensive. His face is impassive, but the intensity of his gaze betrays him and keeps you pinned in place.

You clutch the doorknob so tightly your knuckles go white.

“Michael,” you say softly, and he frowns slightly at that. “What are you doing here?”

How did you find me? The unasked question hangs in the air between you two, but neither of you reach for it.

“Who’s Michael?” He asks airily. He steps forward, and hooks a finger under your chin before you get the chance to move away from him. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your Micha already.”

You swallow thickly. “I haven’t,” you mumble.

He hums. His thumb brushes against your chin lightly as his gaze trails over your body. When it lands on you again, his eyes swallow you whole. “You look good.”

Heat floods your cheeks in spite of the dread settling in your stomach, and you look to the floor again. “Thanks.”

You attempt to step back, but there’s a hand that finds its way to the small of your back before you can. The hand on your chin tilts your head up, up, until you’re forced to look at him again.

“I spent so long waiting for you, liebling,” he says. “Is this how you greet your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You sputter. “I don’t—”

His thumb presses firmly against your lips, quieting your protests. “Friends don’t make out, do they?” When you don’t respond, he adds, “We never did break up, you know. I’m glad to see you haven’t cheated on me in my absence.”

You finally reach your breaking point, all the agitation and unease within you spilling over. You shove at him as hard as you can, but if he didn’t budge all those years ago, he certainly wasn’t budging now. You shove at him again, this time trying to use the movement to push yourself away rather than push him, but he swiftly grabs hold of both your wrists and tugs you back toward him. Caught off guard, you careen forward and crash into his chest. His arms snake around your waist, an iron cage holding you firmly against him.

“Micha,” you hiss, “let me go.”

“Now, liebe,” he coos, releasing his hold on you just enough for you to shift and properly look up at him. “You know what that will cost you.”

You glare up at him, but to your chagrin, he seems perfectly content to simply hold you and gaze down at you. As seconds bleed into minutes trapped in his hold, you crack under the pressure. 

You tilt your head up fully, and Michael lowers his head just enough to be within your reach. You close the distance between you two, intending for the kiss to be short, shallow, and sweet, just like your first.

You honestly should know better at this point. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head, and he pulls you back in just as you’re about to get away. 

The next kiss is deep, far more passion behind it than anything you two shared before you left. He bites at your bottom lip, and forces his tongue in when you startle. A whimper leaves your throat as he continues to lick into your mouth. You reach up to try to shove at his chest, but he places his other hand over it, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles in a mockery of a soothing gesture.

You gasp out when he finally breaks for air. Your lips sting from the sudden release of pressure, and a thin trail of saliva lines your bottom lip. You stumble back, but firm arms are there to catch you again.

You look up, and his pupil-blown eyes cause that unease to settle over you once more.

Gently, he brings your hand up to his lips and ghosts your knuckles over them.

There’s a glint in his eye as he asks, “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

Never satisfied. Insatiable, and now, somehow finding his way back to you.

You should have listened to your grandfather when you had the chance.

[nyctoseraph]

recently, caleb went home in like three-ish pulls (we're so getting married fr) and rafayel has been very kind to me with his new mermaid companion last time...

maybe it's time to start writing that rafayel/reader/caleb fic in my drafts lol

[nyctoseraph]

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!

[nyctoseraph]

The brightest lights cast the deepest shadows. Only when darkness falls can the crown truly shine.

— ⟢ PHAINON —✧— CORONAL RADIANCE ⟣ —

[nyctoseraph]

Redrew the Gojo/Jogo fight but with Caleb and Viper

[nyctoseraph]

end of season ranking in honor of kings is so ass sometimes im tweaking-

[nyctoseraph]

CALL ME BACK

[Seraph’s Mixtape Event]

Yandere CEO Gojo Satoru x Fem Reader

WARNINGS: obsessive behaviors, coercion, depictions of anxiety, threats, weapons (blade and firearm), invasion of privacy, power imbalance, forced intimacy, mentions of past relationship problems. YANDERE/DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 2.5k words.

ALSO CONTAINS: mention of tokyo being the setting, some corporate terms that might've been switched up.

“If you get a minute call me back, I'm so lonely and you're the only one that knows me”

-Call Me Back, Chase Atlantic 

24 missed calls from *unknown* number. Block [xxx-xxxx-xxx]? Cancel / [Confirm]

You once again woke up from a barrage of phone calls. It was the sixth this week, probably somewhere in the hundreds since the past few months, and the cutesy ringtone you carefully picked and recorded from a game was starting to sound more and more irritating. Unfortunately, you reckon that this will still occur tomorrow, completing the week’s seven days.

Ever since you broke up with Gojo Satoru, he hasn't stopped calling you.

From his old burner phones, new sim cards and even the phone booth down the road, all are used in an attempt to contact you. You've changed your numbers countless times, but for some reason, he always manages to find your new ones.

So you've settled for just manually blocking each and every new number of his, despite the pounding in your chest everytime you receive these calls. Knowing Gojo’s immense wealth, he's probably capable of buying new numbers and landlines everytime, so you have to just make-do of this situation.

If you were to tell yourself that this is how your relationship would end up, your past self would've laughed at your face. 

There was a time where you're genuinely head over heels for Satoru, with his boyish grins and loving personality, he was basically the man of your dreams. He likes the same things as you do, geeked out over Digimon on your chats and is overall a sweetheart that's easy to sink into conversation with. One thing was that he's also the heir to a big corporation, something that younger you was in awe of.

Back then, the hopeless romantic soul in you did not believe that economic class affected how a person loves. You were just in love right? Doesn't matter what your background is.

But then disagreements arose. You were harshly reminded that rich people do not have the same worries as the lower class. It started small, with questions about your career choices and comments about your apartment. It became invasive next, with nudges of dropping your job and just marrying him to even buying out your old apartment complex in an attempt to make you live with him.

Something small in you wanted to just actually drop everything and run to him, but there was a nagging uneasiness that you felt way more. You tried explaining to him that you liked feeling productive, that you still have your childhood dreams to do, and that you'd prefer your relationship with the current pace it has, but the man just laughed and said ‘stupid, just let me take care of you.’

You left then, because you didn't like how it sounded, how fast and how suffocating his love feels — and how he showed you that dreaming is for the less fortunate because otherwise money would've made it real already.

★

You blocked his number again.

But Satoru just laughs, drops the phone, then presses the heels of his designer leather shoes down the screen until it cracks and gets crushed under pressure. He then looks down at the sorry state of what used to be a phone, brows furrowed like a god whose anger was incited by the thing.

The love of his life keeps pushing away his attempts of reconciliation so he hopes that the room around him would understand the chaos he'll bring, that was called for, he thinks.

You were his only love. When Satoru first met you in college, he was enamored. You are a breath of fresh air to be with, laughing at his weird side and letting him unwind his more hidden interests to you. You never chastised him for being a complete nerd over niche media or attending too many conventions, in fact you even joined along. You're the light of his boring life and he craves that shine so much.

By the time you were graduating, he was already planning your marriage and life, but then you suddenly left and he's been in shambles ever since.

His blue eyes land on a piece of paper that was brought to him two hours ago. An average startup company, nothing too special.

He has a very funny and special idea though.

★

A jarring announcement was raised on your workplace group chat when you looked at it during your breakfast.

Your company is going to have a merger with the biggest entertainment conglomerate in the country. At first you rubbed your eyes in disbelief because there is no way a startup like your workplace can simply shimmy its way to the big leagues that fast.

But to your horror, you realize just why a big name is so eager to form a deal with yours — it was the same one owned by the Gojo family, of course it's head being Satoru now.

How in the world did he know where you went after you resigned at your old job? But then again you realize that he even knows your new phone numbers so you just groaned loudly. You loathe this day coming, especially when the next announcement was about the official meeting between the two companies.

It’s impossible for him to not be there, and it’s not like he’ll miss the chance of seeing you again over anything else.

★

You were fiddling with your nails so much that you might just uproot it from your skin.

Gojo-fucking-Satoru is currently in front of a projector screen, explaining details of an investment he plans on doing.

Investment or whatever, you think, because you're having a hard time focusing now.

Not when his eyes are so laser-focused on you.

So you excuse yourself, a small ‘sorry, my vision is not doing great because of a headache’ to the secretary beside you, who understandably smiles and lets you go so easily.

You hunched down and beelined to the door. After you closed it, you breathed out a long sigh, tears threatening to fall. You continued to walk to the restrooms, where you finally sob into one of the cubicles.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You stayed in there for a few minutes, breathing in and out and plugging your earphones in to calm your senses. You didn't know why you felt so scared seeing him, you're not even sure if he's actually looking at you.

But then that was answered when you heard a fairly loud knock at your cubicle.

“You in there, sweetheart?”

You breath hitches and you let out an almost croaking sound, which makes the knocking even stronger. He actually cut that meeting out and went after you, god.

He cancelled an entire meeting over you, just to chase after you and who knows what else. The millions worth of this investment is just a tool for him to insert himself back to your life. Your eyes water when you hear the door of the restroom close.

“Go away.” 

“What's wrong first, the secretary told me you're having vision problems.”

Oh god, he sounded like he did back then, when you were so blissfully unaware of his tendencies, when everything about the two of you are still in a rose-colored tint.

“Satoru, do you seriously not have any idea what's wrong right now?”

You don't get a response from that for a while.

“Lovely, please, can we talk? You keep blocking me. I can explain.”

“Explain what? That you've been terrorizing your poor ex who clearly has cut off things with you, please don't even start.”

“I can't lose you, please”

You open your cubicle, just as he was about to reach out to you, you storm towards the door, unlocking it without sparing him a glance, with the same force you close it to his face. 

How unfortunate for you, because Gojo Satoru is too high up in his skyscrapers and too deep down in his obsession to ever see you from eye to eye. To him, he cannot lose you, and that's what only matters.

For Gojo Satoru is not used to losing what's his.

★

One minute you could be on your way home from work, then another minute the shareholder of your company is chasing you down the barren streets of Tokyo with an odachi at hand.

If you were to be very specific, the CEO that invested in your company four days ago who's also your ex-boyfriend is seemingly marching your way with a peculiar odachi blade in his hand

Compared to normal odachi, the blade of this one is pitch black, with red and blue intertwining dragons embossed in a shiny finish. It looks like something out of an anime you both loved watching and if you're not literally running for your life, you might've paused and stared at the way lights of neon signages reflect on them.

Honestly, it fits the Gojo Satoru you've known, for he is not one to settle for common things. It needs his own touch, it needs to be his alone because Gojo Satoru does not share his world with anyone.

And unfortunately for you, like that odachi — he has decided that you belong only to him, and like the colors in that blade, he will make sure that everyone who looks at you will know of the fact.

“Oh come on now, not even a hug for your dearest boyfriend?”

The man approaching you finally speaks, there's a playful tone in his voice, as if he's not currently holding a weapon and striding your way with it.

“Shut the hell up Gojo, we're over for like who knows how long now! You don't… you don't get to just come at me with a weapon and expect to be back together!” You did your best to retort at his words, but the shakiness of your voice betrays you.

“Aww, but I never agreed to that! You need the opinion of both parties to make that decision. Also it's Satoru for you, remember?” Gojo laughs, you look back at him and see his hand that carries the blade suddenly raises and you flinch.

Keep running, keep running, keep running.

“You hurt my feelings darling, I thought we had something big but you seemed to avoid me everytime, have you moved on that fast? Was everything we shared just nothing to you?” There was a sad tone to the way he speaks, if you knew better, you'd probably believe him.

But this is Gojo Satoru and you're not taking any chances at being caught back in his web.

“Just- just go away please… we're done already. Please, please just go away.” You cannot stop your emotions from getting out. All you wanted was to go home and go on with your life, but this man had decided to ruin all that just for his own whims.

“I can't.”

Your blood runs cold at his declaration. You tried running faster, but unfortunately you're against the Gojo Satoru. A loud bang ruptured in the quiet night, and in your horror, you realize it's from a firearm, possibly a sniper.

“We promised forever.” 

Gojo Satoru needs to have his own touch to things, so the maniac he is, hired snipers to scare you. It dawns on you, that only a powerful man like him can pull off something like this.

To someone like you, no less.

Stunned with the sudden sound, it gave much leeway for Satoru to catch up to you. He hugs you from behind, kissing the crown of your head while swaying both your bodies. His breaths are becoming more labored each time, as his hand — the one with the blade, slightly raises to your neck.

“We promised forever, so we'll go forever. You know I don't go back on my promises. We had so much planned and you just fucking left, you can't just do that, you cant, you can't, you can't…” Satoru sputters as he clings to you. You might be going crazy with all that's happening, but you think he's on the verge of crying.

Your mind is going blank. You have no clue how to get out of a situation where your deranged and powerful ex-boyfriend is relentlessly clinging to you while threatening you with weapons.

You don't know where things are headed, so on a last ditch effort, you whispered words that you're not sure you meant.

“Gojo… since nothing is getting through that head of yours and you're so hell-bent on threatening me like this… why not just do it? Do it, kill me, hide my body in a ditch somewhere and maybe you might be able to move on.”

You are so scared, so so scared. What could a man who's less than sane could do with those words?

Your fear increased tenfold when you felt him increase his grip on you. The hug he has you on is now painful, like he's trying to squeeze you until you spill your guts out.

And then you feel tears on your shoulder.

Tears…?

“No… nonono what went wrong? How can you say that? Is dying better than going back to me… you don't even call me Satoru anymore! Don't you love me?” He was now mindlessly prattling on. There were tears in his eyes that are now staring at you blown wide open.

“Ahh I can't kill you, I can't. I love you, I love you so much,” he said as turned his head to your ears, kissing and biting at your earlobes in between breaths. Suddenly he whispered again, “but I can kill for you.”

Your heart drops and you feel goosebumps on your skin. No way, no way he would do that right?

But then again, you knew all too well what kind of man you're involved with.

Satoru suddenly bursts out laughing, the sudden change in emotion makes you flinch. It's the kind that lasts what felt like so long, he was heaving by the time he was done.

“I only wanted them for the surprise factor, but I guess I can use them in other ways. So… darling since you're acting so stubborn, I’m gonna have to up the stakes here, each time you say no or disagree I’ll have one of my men shoot a passerby.”

Fuck.

“So, let me bring you to the car, go back to our home and we'll talk, yeah?” 

You stand there, frozen. Gojo can kill, he will kill. He's untouchable by the system and he probably owns this entire area, CCTVs included. Your quiet response has Satoru in a smile, he drags your body back to a sports car he probably bought just for this occasion, the blade still painfully close to your neck.

For all his barbaric ways earlier, he actually brings you down to the plush seats gently. You also thought that maybe there's a driver and you'll feel less alone with the blue-eyed monster but to your disappointment, he sat down at the driver’s seat.

When the door closes, instead of starting the car, Satoru suddenly lunges at you, trapping your body. His teary eyes bore into you, his entire body trembling.

“I didn't like that darling, I can't stand the thought of losing you, you're mine. Whatever the problem is we'll fix it, I'll be good, I swear! And if you say you don't love me anymore…” His lips connect with yours, the kiss is rough, almost manic. You're losing your breath when he finally stops then continues,

“We'll fix that too, okay?”

[seraph's notes]: can you guys tell i like writing chasing and yearning scenes, i hope you can tell because there will be more-

jk u didn't hear that from me... or did you?

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

[nyctoseraph]

[NOW PLAYING: SERAPH'S MIXTAPE]

PERMANENT EVENT OPEN!

"oh dear the programmer left the playlist on blast again, i wonder what songs are there this time."

CHASE ATLANTIC

track 1: ANGELS (Yandere Actor Geto Suguru x Personal Assistant Reader)

track 2: CALL ME BACK (Yandere CEO Gojo Satoru x Ex Reader)

track 3: Tidal Wave (RAFAYEL/CALEB - TRACK NOT YET AVAILABLE)

BILLIE EILISH

track 1: Oxytocin (Yandere MYDEI/PHAINON - Hybrid AU - TRACK UPCOMING)

track 2: Hostage (Yandere AO YIN HONOR OF KINGS - TRACK NOT YET AVAILABLE)

track 3: My Strange Addiction (Yandere BOOTHILL - TRACK NOT YET AVAILABLE)

THE 1975

track 1: If You're Too Shy (Let Me Know) (Yandere LI BAI HONOR OF KINGS - TRACK UPCOMING)

UPCOMING TRACKS - Already written, may come anytime soon.

NOT AVAILABLE TRACKS - Not yet written, may take a while to arrive.

[programmer.txt = sup, under this are works that are inspired from various songs i listen to. please do take note that inspired doesn't mean the same, so if the fic deviated from the song’s original meaning, that's just my brainworms at work (⁠*⁠_⁠*⁠) 

multifandom works, mostly yandere (tags and warnings will apply), will be updated on the most random times probably.]

TAG: seraph’s_mixtape

Last Updated: 06/15/25

[nyctoseraph]

[JUJUTSU KAISEN]

[SUGURU GETO]

ANGELS - Yandere Actor Geto Suguru x PA! Reader [part of SERAPH'S MIXTAPE]

[SATORU GOJO]

CALL ME BACK - Yandere CEO Gojo Satoru x Ex! Reader [part of SERAPH'S MIXTAPE]

Last Updated: 06/15/25

[nyctoseraph]

ANGELS

[Seraph’s Mixtape Event]

Yandere! Actor Suguru Geto x PA! Reader

WARNINGS: obsessive behaviors, jealousy, confinement, kidnapping, mentions of mental health issues, foul language, use of firearms. YANDERE/DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 3.3k words.

ALSO CONTAINS: probably inaccurate depictions of celebrity staff and how they work :/

“It’s getting darker and I’m starting to get anxious. Nobody told me I’d be lonely when I’m famous.”

-ANGELS, Chase Atlantic 

When Suguru made his debut in a mainstream action film, he took a rigorous two-year firearm training program.

Of course, he was a rising star in the industry, so he wanted to give his best shot at finally carving his name onto the skies of cinema. Before he went mainstream, he was more of an indie drama actor. Pure emotion, no-nonsense acting.

But then he got an offer to star in an intense, action-thriller film after his stellar performance in an indie horror entry, in which he bagged numerous awards for it.

He has a knack for acting crazy, the producer said.

Playing the role of a businessman turned madman after losing his company and family to the hands of his enemies, he needed to have enough grit and insanity to show on screen.

And so for all his efforts he delivered.

The bloody, violent revenge theme of the movie had garnered strong mainstream presence. Though, the main focus of the people was not the plot itself, but rather the actor. The delirious scenes where he repeatedly shoots the antagonist in the chest with such manic countenance proved to be a hit, generating thousands of clips and reactions online.

“Oh my god, he is so good??? I was genuinely scared.” “Would it be controversial if I said that he's a better actor than the antagonist here? I felt genuine fear when he emptied that barrel, like holy shit, pure talent i say” “Ahhh suguru geto the man you areee <3”

And with that, his career finally launches up to the stars.

★

When you first met Suguru, it was during the rise of his career.

With his growing fame and fanbase, the company that handled him decided to provide him more staff. Instead of just a single manager and a small glam team, he gets three more and a bigger team; there's even a personal assistant hired.

That's you.

When you first heard of your transfer as a PA, you're honestly worried. It's a role that requires being close to your client all the time. As a make-up artist that sidelines as a manager, you're only used to being called when needed then let go after your work is done.

This is also your first time being transferred to an apartment complex near a subdivision all for the sole reason of being closer to your employer.

But the worry gradually melted away when you met the man himself. Suguru is well-known for intimidating and crazy roles, hence the subconscious that he's also intimidating in real-life, but after all, the screen does not equate to reality.

Suguru is actually welcoming of you, even inviting you to his home inside the subdivision for a dinner. He insisted that since you're going to spend the majority of the time together, then you should get comfortable with each other's presence.

In real life, he turns out to be a mellow guy. He's pleasant company during the dinner, telling you about himself and laughing softly at the turn of events in his life.

You think that maybe it's not that bad after all.

★

It's been half a year now since you started working for Suguru.

As a PA, you honestly expected worse than whatever you have now. There were horror stories from your much more experienced co-workers about celebrities who were a pain in ass to assist, such as some of them being plain rude or some being difficult to communicate with.

Luckily for you, Suguru is none of that.

Sometimes you even wonder if you're needed here. The man is self-sufficient, like he didn't really need any sort of personnel like you. In fact, most of your time is spent just standing close to him or warning him of places where he could be mobbed; none of that carrying his stuff or running after him like you imagined before.

“Morning Mr. Geto, I brought you coffee and snacks.” 

“Really? I just also bought myself coffee just a few minutes ago, still, thank you.”

You tried explaining to him that he should focus on the less mundane things as that is your job and that he shouldn't go around public places too much, but he only replied with a sweet smile and a “don't worry about me too much.”

★

If there's one thing Suguru hates, it's feeling alone and pathetic.

Back when he's younger, he was that one reserved guy in a group of friends. He's reliable and trustworthy, so he's grown to offer help whenever and wherever.

Unfortunately, he's also grown to bottle up his worries and just ignores it until it piles up. Sometimes, he's tempted to just spill his brains out to someone and vent, but he thinks he might lose his role of being the reliable one if he does.

So he turns to acting. He turned to countless scripts, acted out his heart and his hidden emotions. It's easier this way, he thinks, because if anyone asks, then he could simply say that it's all an act.

★

Months turn to years and you continue your work. A busy schedule for such a big star is no surprise. You accompany him to photoshoots, interviews and business abroad. Although it's a tiring job, it's not unpleasant.

“I think you should really drop the mister and just call me Suguru.”

“Huh? Oh… yeah sure if that makes you comfortable.”

Your client is not hard to work with. You would even dare say that the two of you have gotten more comfortable around each other. He's friendly and on some rare occasions, even chatty, but still, you try to maintain a professional relationship with him.

Once during a busy taping for one of his series, you spent an entire night collaborating with his managers for his schedule. It was already dawn the next moment you looked outside. As you're about to pass out on the table, a hand reaches out, holding coffee and medicine.

“Don't get sick on me now.” 

It was Suguru. He was wearing a simple white tee and sweatpants, his hair neatly tied up. Your heart skipped a beat in realization, as you tried to avert your gaze and hide your cheeks.

“Oh, thank you, I should've been the one doing this.” There was a slight laugh in your tone, still reeling yourself after thinking how gorgeous your client is.

This is bad.

“Really? But you look like you'll drop down and start sleeping on the floor in your state. Don't worry about the schedule, I'll figure it out.”

Here he goes again, he's fond of saying the letter “I” you think. He has an entire team dedicated to him but for some reason he always thinks by himself, never involving them until someone reminds him that he should.

“So… just rest? No one's gonna scold you tomorrow” He urges you. You chuckle at his words.

“I promise, I always got you”

Now that you think about it, Suguru seems to stick around you more lately.

★

Lately, Suguru cannot stop thinking about you.

You, his sweet personal assistant that is so eager to help him. When he first heard of you, he thought that you're an unnecessary addition to his team. He doesn't need help in things like that, he can do it by himself.

But spending time with you, he found your willingness to help and support him endearing. You like to insist on doing things for him, and when he actually asks, you don't chastise him for it.

BANG!

“Boy, this is my first time seeing you miss in a while. Actually, you look out of it man, what's on your mind?” A friend of him asks, the one who trained him in this little hobby of his.

At first, Suguru only learned shooting for a role, but he quickly realized that likes it enough to continue. He thinks it's therapeutic, sometimes he likes to imagine the people who annoyed him that day in one of those target boards.

“Nothing, just tired.” He answers flatly, bringing the gun back down to the table and then sitting on it. 

“Really? Huh, I thought it's about that girl you were always with, honestly surprised she puts up with you, you're kinda hard to talk to.”

Suguru's eyes went wide for a second, shock flashing to his face.

Is he really that obvious?

“Ooooh got ya, if that was me I wouldn't be able to focus either honestly,” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Suguru once again picks up the gun and reloads it. The man in front of him starts laughing, which annoyed Suguru more.

As he was doing a few more shots, the laughter suddenly fades. He looks away to his target and nearly drops his gun.

“Suguru?”

Suguru was dumbfounded, he honestly forgot that he sent you his location earlier. He also may have forgotten that you will go wherever he is because you're hands-on like that.

“Hey, I was just doing some practice shooting. Sorry about this guy though,” He shoots a glare at him, in which his friend takes a sign to leave the two of you alone.

★

When you saw Suguru holding a gun, full focus on the target in front of him, you were reminded of his notable roles.

While he is not a typecast per se, his well-known roles tend to lean on more intense ones. Killers, antagonistic businessmen, vengeful protagonists; he's a very famous pick for these types of characters.

Suddenly, you blurted out, “you're really different from the roles you take.”

He looks at you, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I mean, I sometimes watch your clips online, and man, you're so believable in each one of them, but in real life you're actually pretty… hmm, calm?”

He laughs at that, “why, do you think I’m also crazy like my roles huh?” he jests.

“Hey! I'm not saying this is a bad thing, I just thought that maybe you're more… fiery? In real life because you're very good at acting crazy and stuff.”

“I might be, who knows”

Your head tilts a little, with a small ‘huh’ coming out of you. Suguru chuckles again, putting his gun down and sits beside you. He ruffles your hair and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

You might be the first one to know.

★

You and Suguru stay in the dressing room while waiting for the awards show to begin. He just finished his makeup and is now just sitting in front of the mirror. His makeup artist went outside to fetch a group of idols, leaving the two of you alone.

You sit far from him, on a couch at the end of the room. There was a tinge of disappointment when the makeup artist left. At any rate, you might just combust from overthinking.

You really need to keep things professional.

Lately, you feel like Suguru is getting way too touchy with you. Sometimes, he puts his arms around your shoulders when walking on streets (he says it's to avoid getting separated, but you think that his actions might actually catch more attention). He has also developed a habit of spamming you with messages and videos. At first you think it's funny and interesting, because it's your first time seeing this side of him, but as time goes on, the random stuff he sends turns to more specific ones — like edits of you two together.

He once sent you a video featuring pictures of you two together. It's not weird for a celebrity and their PA to be spotted together, what's weird is that Suguru loves to send this to you everytime.

You caught him browsing the comments once.

“Pardon my parasocialness but they look cute together no?” “Wow his PA is actually a beauty, if she were to become an idol, she's going to be my fav”

When he thinks you weren't looking, you see him like the other comment and then report the other one.

★

The makeup artist finally returns, two males in tow. She said they're from the group performing for the opening and that she needs help with their arrangements.

You immediately stand-up and approach them, you mention your experience as a makeup artist and then start helping set up the products on the table.

Suguru frowns, when he was the one on that seat earlier, you didn't bother helping on his makeup. You stayed behind, opting to do checks on his outfits and browsing through your checklists.

When he knew of your experience as a makeup artist, he asked you multiple times to assist him, in which you easily agreed to. But as time went by, you started pointing out his glam team and telling him that they'll be more than enough.

Lately, you also reply to his messages slower. Sometimes when you do, it's just through a reaction button. When he tries to  invite you for dinner, you always interrupt him, saying you already cooked and are on the way to drop it to his home. You always immediately leave once you do so.

Have you been catching on?

It hurt him to think that this was your reaction when you realized. Are you scared that you'll be bashed by his fans? Are you scared that you won't look professional anymore? Are you scared of him?

He knows that all of those are valid fears but sometimes he wishes you're just as in love with him as he is to you enough to ignore all these worries.

He finalizes in his brain one night that yes, he's in love with you. A part of him believed that you will be too, but with the way you started keeping distance, all of his delusions are stamped down. It hurts him really, that you're not even considering — that you're not even taking him seriously.

You look so lovely laughing with the idol you're currently applying foundation on, but it absolutely irritates him that you're not laughing with him. That it's not him bringing such a beautiful smile to your face.

All right then, he'll just show you how sincere he is.

★

You finally finished with the makeup, just in time before the show starts. The makeup artist and the two idols thank you profusely before going out the door.

Just as you're about to follow them, a hand grabs your wrist.

“Leaving me alone here?” In your absolute dismay, it was Suguru who pulled you back.

“Ah, of course not! I was just sending them out.” You awkwardly laugh, which earned a stare from him.

“Well it looks like you're leaving me, but whatever, hear me out first.” 

It was the little things like this that makes you doubt your position as his colleague. Too straightforward, no boundaries. You try to convince yourself that no, this is just friendly banter, we work closely afterall, but the intense stares and constant touching are always challenging that thought.

“I bought a mansion somewhere around the peninsula, accompany me there.”

Times like this you realize that Suguru has changed. A mansion, so suddenly? When he's the type of man to carefully plan out first?

You generally don't pry about his personal investments, and he's not one to involve you with those either.

Except this one.

Despite your questions, you put up a strained smile, and blurt out a ‘yes’ as a reply.

Suguru smiles at that, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

★

In your line of work, you're used to running a lot.

Being a PA, a make-up artist and a manager for busy artists tends to expose you to many hours of running after errands and last-minute changes on set.

But despite all that, this is your first time running this much.

You're not quite sure how many acres the new land Suguru Geto acquired has, but it's definitely large enough to get lost into, accompanied by trees that tower, seemingly fracturing the night sky around you. It's dark and there were no stars in the sky.

But there might be one tailing you right now.

When Suguru broke the news of buying a new mansion and its surrounding land in a remote area, you thought it was for investment purposes. 

When Suguru drove you there so you could explore the place together and assess the possible uses for it, you thought that it was to inform you as his staff of his future plans for this asset.

When Suguru brings you inside the mansion and locks it down from entry and exit, your earlier worries were answered and now all your reasoning is thrown out the window, leaving you all alone with him.

He stays there with you for a week, you cry to him for a week. Repeatedly coaxing him to at least think about his career, when he mentions attending an endorsement shoot, you were overjoyed.

You were absolutely horrified by your client’s descent to… whatever this is. You've seen signs on him, the special treatment, the funny stares, you've seen it.

You just didn't know how deep it goes down.

You did your best to explore the nooks and crannies of the infrastructure and to fully remember his schedules, setting a perfect timing to jump down a low enough window and hopefully traverse the territory back into the city.

But not even an hour of escape and you're already feeling the signs of your captor.

Four years ago, when Suguru Geto first debuted in an action film, he took a rigorous firearm training program.

And years later, he seemed to have taken a liking to that hobby.

You heard of a loud bang as you're running, nearly tripping you over in shock. There's no way he's here and there's no way he's using a gun just for you right? But when you hear steps more frantic than yours, your heart drops to your stomach.

“Dearest, where are you going?”

There, clad in a black sweater and armed with a handgun, Suguru Geto is closing in the distance. He's wearing his usual closed-eyed smile, but there's something wrong, something unnatural with it.

Like he's forcefully pressing down on some violent emotion.

Your heart lurches and you start running as fast as you can manage. There was no way he's here already, he was supposed to show up to an endorsement today, did he not go?

With your refusal to answer him, what tethers his last restraints broke loose and he's now aggressively tailing after you.

“I asked you a fucking question, where are you going, are you trying to escape me now?” Contrary to his demeanor, the way Suguru speaks is softer, but there's certainly an accusatory tone to it.

The screen does not equate to reality,

When you kept running instead of answering, another loud gunshot resonated in the forest.

But there could be similarities.

This time, the bang sounded closer to you, causing you to duck down. But as you're just collecting your bearings, another shot echoed. And then another, and another.

Each shot seems to get closer and closer.

You're debating whether Suguru would actually directly hit you, you knew of his hobbies, you know that with his distance, he can definitely hit you. You wanted to gamble by actually standing up straight to continue running, betting on the chances that he's just scaring you and wouldn't dare to shoot you.

But unfortunately courage doesn't come easy when you're against an armed madman gunning at your direction. Your body resorted to running while ducked down, but you lacked visibility to your surroundings and was slower this way.

Way slower than you would've wanted, because after a while you felt an arm hooking you into a hard chest. Suguru catches up to you, leaning his head into your shoulders and cradling your body with both of his arms.

The one holding the handgun rises up to your neck. The next thing you know is the feeling of the cold barrel lining to your skin.

You, frozen in fear and him exhausted, both of you stayed in that position for a few moments. Millions of thoughts are running in your head. Your trance was broken when you heard his soft voice, his breath fanning your neck.

“Got ya.”

He always does, just like he promised.

[seraph's notes]: mmm yes actor geto, i'd religiously watch all his flims ngl.

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

[nyctoseraph]

DOTTORE NATION HOW ARE WE FEELIN

[nyctoseraph]

phainon brainworms are getting longer and longer they might just crawl out 😕

i really need to lock tf in.

[nyctoseraph]

what do close friends do together?

[nyctoseraph]

Wpuld you do a part 2 for Triple Threat? I love the concept sm. Maybe expand on their obsessiveness and MC's descent? ... Or anything you wish to do with the story tbh. I'm desperate ☹️😭

waaaaaah anon im glad you like it 💜

this au is my baby atp 😭 honestly it wouldn't be impossible to do more stuff centered around it! maybe we'll get there soon... hehe

but for now i can't really promise anything since i have other wips that are begging to be finished 😔 (also in a slightly related note to anyone reading this, please check out the rules regarding pt.2s! it's there so i don't leave anyone's hopes up 😭)

[nyctoseraph]

OH, GALATEA!

Yandere Sculptor/Artist! Rafayel x Muse/Childhood Friend! Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, depictions of manipulation, obsessive behaviors. YANDERE/DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 491 words

Like a god, he crafted the world around you. The very buildings you look up to are a notion of his hand and the statues that look down to you are willed by his desire. Even the necklace that ever so subtly wraps around your neck is a product, a gift, of his own genius.

So like a devout follower, you'll walk along the grandeur he carved out for you, for everywhere you go there is only him. The voices around you all sing hymns and praise for him, and all the gigantic posters paint him to be this deity to be worshipped for all his brilliance. Every step you take in his world — of course there would be Rafayel.

You once remember the vibrant flame lilies in your childhood home. The one you shared with a blurry figure you couldn't pull out of the recesses of your memory. But he's there, caressing the flowers and tying them in between the strands of your hair.

Ever since the dawn of your relationship, he had his eyes on you, but you always looked at the flowers more than him. So he had decided that he'll shine brighter, be more vibrant than that of those red flora he'll soon grow to despise.

Red is what he is, like the flame lilies, like the crimson blood he felt like shedding when you decide to just leave the castle walls — the fences of your childhood suburbs. You ran away from your prince without sparing a glance and all he could see, all he could feel, was red.

You hadn't even seen him bloom, like those flowers you loved. All he could do was bleed red and hope you like the color. You walked away, so he'll run after you. You never saw him again since the day you looked back from the car and saw his small figure crying.

Since that day he's followed you, through giant billboards, through the humming of the radio, through the light of the television featuring his features once again. He follows you through memories and the I-wonder-how-he-is-now’s.

And soon you'll cross paths again, because to hell with star-crossed lovers if he can just rearrange the galaxies, he's an artist after all. He'll smile brightly, and you'll finally pull out the blurry face from the depths of your mind.

He crafted every single thing, your very own artist. Staging your meetings like a playwright and painting beautiful memories that he intends to burn into your mind so you'll never ever forget them again. He's a sculptor and he's shaping his own fairytale back to how it should be.

Pygmalion poured his heart and soul into creating the love of his life, so as a nod to a fellow artist he promises to perfect the world he created for the two of you. You might not be made of marble, but you are his very own masterpiece. 

His very own Galatea.

[seraph's notes]: might actually write something longer about this... after i find the motivation to do so ig-

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

[nyctoseraph]

WINTER'S REVENANT

Dottore (Genshin Impact) x Experiment! Reader

WARNINGS: slight yandere behavior, human experimentation, violence, mentions of sharp objects, loss of sense of self. YANDERE/DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 1.3k words.

If it weren't for the blazing snowstorms outside, one would think that it's a sunny day in the laboratory.

At least when viewed within your perspective.

Clearly, you don't seem to mind (or to be aware of) the howling winds slashing against the window panes of the room, glassy eyes dazed along with a small smile that seems to point at nothing.

"How do you feel?" someone asks softly, yet still firm and expectant. The man's red irises shift across his sclera, scanning through for any sort of reaction from you.

"I feel alright, Dottore," a low and meek answer was heard from your form.

Dottore steps back, almost knocking down at least a handful of empty vials propped haphazardly on the metal table. Although it appears to be the least of his problems as he pays no mind to the small pieces of glass from the other vials crunching under his boots.

"So it really did work"

He says with a tone even he himself is unsure of. To be fair to his own expectations, there was once a time where he's been dreaming of this day; however right now, there's something that just doesn't seem to match with what he had in mind that time. Inside his crooked mind, he's supposed to be grinning (almost manic in a way like how he always remembered when he looked into the mirror) when he sees your obedient form staring up at him as he unlatches you from the vivisection table. He will sit you down, hold your hand as he starts small talk and then tell you that the treatment worked and that you're fine in his hands. 

He's always had it neatly orchestrated in his mind, like a playwright in a certain Fontainian theater that a colleague of his lingers to these days.

So when he sits you down and asks you how you feel, a wave of uncertainty hits him, how come everything's looking the same in his head yet he can't bring himself to grin and tell you that you're fine in his hands.

In his crooked, now hazy and distorted mind, he's reaching out for his deepest memories, a past intent, a script of sorts to recheck what's wrong with his little play of you.

You are also looking through him, or at him? He isn't quite sure, but when he stares into your eyes it looks just like he remembered them in the scenes from his mind.

The whirlwinds howl louder, slamming into the window panes and reverberating into the structure. It's almost akin to thrashing and wailing, yet in contrast to your surroundings, you sit there languidly, head in a tilt as you stare at him.

Dottore's countenance remained stoic, but he now understands the situation.

But he did always understand the situation.There's just a tiny bit of him that refused to take it.

The empty vials and needles clutter the room, left of what used to be the "medicine" he gave you for seven whole years. It's working as intended, the proof of his hard work now staring back at him.

There were times of violent outbursts and visceral screams, which by the looks of it, have already come to an end. In the back of his head, he understands. The drug has worked into your cortices, it's flowing down your spine and is sloshing with the blood in your arteries. Your whole body is one with his creation and it clicks in him as to why he feels he lost something.

Although deep inside, he had already pinpointed his problem, he can't help but think it's an absolute disgrace to his work; he cannot feel sad about a proven hypothesis, a successful experiment — but at the end of the day, he just ripped off a precious fragment of you and it's causing a flash of loneliness to creep into his artificial veins.

So he chose to do what he does best, delude himself and stretch his facial muscles to a sad excuse of a smile as he approaches your form.

"Alright, i guess we're done for this one"

In the name of science and everything he's built up by his bloody hands, he's going to be happy, maniacally smiling as he presents his magnificent work, you, to the Goddess herself. 

"Really?" you perk up, eyes glistening just a tiny bit as you stared up to the towering doctor.

His genius had created a drug that removes the feeling of fear by manipulating the senses, the brain, the veins, and the millions of nerves and neurons. Surely, with all the time he spent thinking and studying about you, he can differentiate each and every single one of them.

"For sure, let's bring you back to your room, yeah?" Dottore brings his hand out a bit, which you grab, this time with no hesitation.

But by archons, he swears, why does it have to be you?

-

But why wouldn't it be you? You were meant to be with him and he'll do anything for that to become reality.

The roaring winds can still be heard throughout the dimly lit laboratory, the metal paraphernalias scattered across Dottore's table reflects the artificial lamp lights in a way that makes the sharp edges of the metals shine pointedly.

The doctor sits in a black, leather armchair. he holds a small recording device; it looks sleek, a perfect fit for a man in his line of work. Apparently it's a new creation from the Fontaine engineers and it piqued his curiosity.

His curiosities could be fleeting, but like a certain someone, this tiny recorder–at least that's what it looked like in his long, slender hands–had become a regular part of his life.

He says the most vile and hideous things to the device, curiosities and musings that while he can bear to speak of to anyone he wishes, only a few could bear to listen.

This time however, he records a report, a simple and quick report of his successful experiment. 

"The substance, which as of this date does not have an official name, has undergone the necessary clinical trials. It can now be distributed across the ranks,"

"The substance has undergone 7 years of experimentation on different subjects, however we have come to a breakthrough as of this day as one of the test subjects have shown a 100% accurate outcome we're looking for,"

"The first phase of clinical trials have officially concluded, I declare the experiment successful."

A small click and a sigh can be heard simultaneously, Dottore turns off his recorder and looks outside the room, 

A success huh?

If there's one thing he's successful at, it is failing you.

By archons why did it have to be you, the last piece of his humanity, the last piece of what he used to be.

But it has to be you or no one doesn't it? All he wishes is for you is to willingly join him, watching the world burn and to dance across its embers.

So he takes his chances, he seizes you and transforms you into something akin to himself, an empty hull whose only response to the world is a smile.

He laughs, loud and boisterous that it echoes in his eerily empty laboratory. It doesn't stop until there's tears in his eyes and then he's just smiling, a sharp toothy smile, similar in fashion to a jester with a perpetual grin painted to their face.

Something snaps; a piece of him long hidden in his soul shatters into pieces, he breaks, along with you, and in his crooked and broken mind the two of you danced atop of what's left behind.

The snowstorm still slashes through the window panes, in his point of view the glass is tightly shut, but he felt like it got ripped off its hinges,

In his dreary life in Snezhnaya rarely did he bother to feel anymore, but right now he felt a shiver running through his spine.

Whether it's because of the cold or the dawning in him of the fact that he now has you in his hands, his precious doll, it doesn't matter anymore.

And so he goes, how could he let you spend this cold night alone in the dark right?

[seraph's notes]: i'm actually a dottore kisser <3

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[nyctoseraph]

TRIPLE THREAT (A Business Plan With Your Three Hot Bestfriends Gone Wrong!)

Yandere NSFW artists/Camboys Tartaglia (Genshin Impact) x Aventurine (Honkai Star Rail) x Scar (Wuthering Waves) x Fem Manager Reader

WARNINGS: pornography, slight allusions to mental illness, alcohol, dubious relationships, mentions of sexual kinks, profanity, spoilers for Tartaglia's and Aventurine's names, coercion and non-con towards the end. YANDERE/DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 2.1k words.

You work as a manager for your three dearest friends.

A manager of what you ask? You work as their social media manager. Well, what kind of social media?

Well to put it simply, you manage their OnlyFans and Patreon content, alongside their other social media services that got added along the way. You arrange their video release schedule, plan around their photoshoots and help them record their audios. You basically manage their skyrocketing pornography careers and honestly, as weird as that sounded — the pay is hella good.

Started as a small gig during your fourth year in college, the four of you had a strong attraction to money, a braincell to share and a fuck ton of audacity that seriously needed to be let out, so all of you headed down the spiral of the humanity's belief in “sex sells”.

While you're not the most open about your body being out displayed in the wolves like that, the three of them have the looks that could rival a greek god and confidence that could threaten Narcissus himself, so you do what you had to do and set up multiple accounts, sell content and finally, profit.

And oh boy did you profit.

When they first opened up their OF accounts, they were able to reach the top searches with three measly photo sets — not even a video. You quickly grabbed this chance, helping them set up their identities and even researching the current trends, which now amounted to them extending their content from just pictures and video to live streaming and even voice packs.

With faces and bodies blessed by the heaven's craftsmen themselves, your friends’ following grew and they even formed their own niches.

Ajax, more commonly known as Tartaglia under his account FLegacy by his rabid supporters online, specializes in the unholy E-boy streams, BFE (Boyfriend Experience) content and ASMRs. He has, unfortunately, the most unhinged and parasocial fans around that make you want to smash your head into the keyboard every time you have to moderate one of his livestreams.

He has the ability to use his sickly sweet voice to yap about the current gacha trends and manage to immediately do a smooth three sixty from that and start talking about the probability (and how it's a 100% guaranteed, no 50/50) of you being a hot and moaning mess after he's done with you.

This nerdy, game addict, e-boy aesthetic of him draws so much money from the streaming crowd that when you asked him for help in fixing your lagging pc, the answer you got was new build equipped with Nvidia GeForce RTX 5090 and a Ryzen 9 CPU — along with narwhal themed customized accessories.

You nearly flipped when he dropped by and assembled it himself, but the asshole just laughs and says something along the lines of “our sweet manager deserves it for working so hard for us.”

A second case-in-point for the appeal of rich guys is Kakavasha, or Aventurine for his worldwide collection of subs and babygirls. He's the rich and domineering guy cranked to the max with his BDSM roleplays, gilded photo shoots featuring gold bathtubs and velvet handcuffs, and the barrage of his less-than-gentlemanly posts on his dedicated account, Stoneheart — talking about ways he would buy out your pathetic soul and dominate it so that it'll only know nothing but him. On days where he's in a good mood, he even narrates these through sultry voice recordings.

And people eat that shit up so much he sent the four of you to a high-end hotel in Dubai just so you can sightsee, film something interesting and go to casinos, simply because of his quirk of winning millions if he wanted to.

Lastly you have the guy for the deviants and absolute degenerates, Scar. With his wild persona, rough mannerisms and slightly insane musings, he was able to make a large portion of the population question themselves on why the hell are they getting aroused over someone turning a switchblade on them.

His account FracturedDesire is notorious for getting flagged almost bi-monthly (much to your dismay) due to its dark content. It's brimming with knifeplay clips, killer and yandere AUs and photo sets of him and his fangs bloody munching on some meat that looks strangely a heart — partnered with a caption of “the shit I'll do to you once I catch you <3”

He once posted a ghostface roleplay video and someone offered to drop thousands to make a continuation of it. He coyly replied to it with a “no will do, prey like you don't get to order me around.” as a joke, but imagine the surprise in all of your faces when the four of you huddled to his computer and seeing the digits still wired to him — with a note that says: fuck that's so hot!

This little business endeavor of the four of you, is undoubtedly, printing money. Monetization of horny and lonely people sure did bring you to the higher echelons of the income ladder, so despite being so tired of moderating commenters on stream that seem like they're in-heat and filtering the most down horrendous comments you've seen in your life even as a manager for porn stars, you push through because damn, you guys are making a living.

Sleepless nights are spent on making new concepts and scripts. Mornings after that are spent consulting them like an actual professional manager, brainstorming how they should deliver and bring it to life.

Much of your days are also spent renting out the most random places, such as an abandoned warehouse for one of Scar’s photoshoots. You provide them all the props they need — which means both the clerk at the local adult toys shop and the owner of a hardware store downtown knows you by heart now.

But sometimes, you ask yourselves if all of you bit something more than what you can chew, because who knew making sexy content to post online can eat away so much time.

It's so much that all of you never actually had the time to bond lately, always opting for short meetings and messages to save time. Everybody is tired — understandably so, after years of repeatedly doing all that. 

Due to this little predicament, your friendship took a step back too. No hang-outs, no unrelated meetings, no stupidly laughing in the living room again.

It saves time to just get the job done and schedule that hang-out at a much later date, again. The luxury provided by this little sacrifice is worth it. 

You love to tell yourself that it's worth it, that all of you are satisfied.

A little problem arises though.

It's in a form of “weird feeling, dunno if it's love or I want to fuck you up and own you because this job is driving me insane” kind of voice message sent to you at three o’ clock in the morning.

Granted, all of you agreed to rake profits that way but sometimes years of being a sexual icon online does some weird shit to your brain. They don't know why, but the idea of having their own after being gawked, stared, and practically shared at online is way more enticing tonight.

The only person they trust after they sold their body and soul to the devil is you.

So when you hear loud and rapid knocking to the door right after you listened to that goddamn voicemail, you panicked. Maybe the worries that plagued your brain daily are seeing itself to fruition now.

Due to the nature of your work, you seem to see them more and more as co-workers rather than friends who are practically born beside you, and when the situation where you have to face that dilemma arises, you're at a loss.

They must've been so lonely there. Working as their manager, you knew the kind of hoops you have to go through to protect their identities and privacy, in turn, they were almost isolated. And you, their trusted friend, is starting to drift away too. 

When the last bit of the normalcy they fiercely protected started to drift off, they couldn't help but grab it back to them — harsh.

How much again for the price of luxury?

The knocking on your penthouse started to grow more loud and obnoxious, you can also hear slurred voices outside. The three of them are here, that's rare. Afraid of them causing a ruckus, you slowly made your way there and gently opened the door.

There, you are faced with the drunken stares of your clients — bestfriends. God, did you really just refer to them as clients? Scar immediately hugs you while pushing both your bodies inside, he reeks strongly of alcohol. Ajax and Kakavasha follow, not forgetting to lock your door. The four of you headed to your room, courtesy of Scar dragging you back there.

Aventurine — no, Kakavasha, sporting a sheer dress shirt that only has a single intact button, smiles languidly at you as Scar now resorts to carrying your body to the bed, which earned a loud yelp from you.

“What the… it's early in the morning, we don't have anything that we missed don't we…?” You warily said, Scar now drops you to your bed then lies down beside you, burying his head to the crook of your neck. At this moment you notice Ajax carrying a bag, when he sees you staring at him he also smiles, then he heads to your bedside table to put down what he's carrying.

“Ah, do we really need a reason to visit our dear friend? What happened to the old times? Remember when we're in college, we sneak to the women's dorms through the windows and hide in cupboards when the prefect checks, you're unfazed with that. Now we go through the door and you're already surprised, what changed huh?” Ajax is the one that answered you, he sat at your bed, stroking your hair. On a better inspection, he was wearing nothing underneath that maroon hoodie, when he notices that you noticed there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Uhm… you guys are drunk as hell, let me get some blankets if you want to insist on sleeping here,” you tried standing up, but Scar tightened his hold on your body.

“Ah, ah, that's sweet but we're here to talk about a lot of things, so not really sleepy,” Kakavasha chimes in, kicking his Ferragamo leather shoes off and settling to your other side, practically caging your body between his and Scar’s.

Now you're extremely confused, because while you've known them as clingy, they never really barged in unannounced at your home, drunk too at that, they usually invite you when drinking and they never get this wasted.

“We never really hung out like this anymore,” Scar whispers in your ear — oh, he's awake. You hear something unzipping, following the sound you see Ajax finally open the bag he's carrying.

He pulls out a camera.

A professional grade camera, the same ones you use when filming their videos. Confusion and worry etched themselves to your face, to which Ajax only replies with a wide grin.

“You seem so… distant lately,” Scar trails off. Suddenly you remembered the voicemail they sent to you. Fuck, that was the reason you wanted to see what's happening to them, but alas, they dragged you off and coddled you into this situation.

“Darling, I have a video proposal,” Hearing Kakavasha’s voice, the same one that spoke the voice mail, sent shivers down your spine. 

“We missed you so fucking much, you feel so far away sometimes, we need you back closer… like this close…” he continues, embracing your body before you can stand up and assess the situation.

“Hopefully our darling manager approves of this content,” Ajax chuckles, he finished setting up the camera and it's pointed at your bed, at you.

“I know we're already something along the lines of industry top dogs but… a collab and a special guest wouldn't hurt right?”

The camera is finally rolling.

Ajax stalked towards you, Kakavasha and Scar restraining your body, the latter’s hand moving towards your hair to brush it a few times, only to grip and pull it afterwards, forcing you to face the camera.

“Let's all be together forever, yeah?”

While they spiral down the path of no return, you become farther and farther away from them.

In a desperate attempt to close in the distance, they pull you down with them, to their personal hell of selfish desires.

There's no way up when you're rock bottom, at least you're with them forever that way, right?

So welcome to their world, darling superstar.

[seraph's notes]: i genuinely cannot stop thinking about this bro :(

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