moonsaver

[moonsaver]

Writing for visual novels is lowkey tough for me cause i feel like either the au has to be extremely imaginative or it has to be completely within bounds of the visual novel and ofc my skills cant cope with that

[moonsaver]

Myrtle Green

Regardless of your past, and whatever lies in the future, you've decided to leave all the worries and troubles behind to live in a new neighborhood. That means starting over, getting a new job, forming new friendships.. and perhaps more? However, even a simple life can have it's day-to-day challenges, including befriending the strange, broody and reclusive neighbor.

if you didn't know any better, He probably would want to kill you! but that's a silly assumption.

They wouldn't really do such a thing, all for being his neighbor! ...right?

A/n: hello everyone ! This is a slice of life series i wanted to write, an au of 14dwy in a way. Anyone not familiar eith the visual novel can start reading it aswell, but it might contain spoilers from the official blog since its from a different pov. Of course, unfortunately our dear main pairing of Ren x reader is going to be very ooc since i took a lot of liberties even trying to fit him into this au.

I plan for it to be a series and really push myself since i rarely write slice of life. It will most likely be really slow paced since i struggle with coming up with slice of life prompts. It is also available on AO3!

C/w: ren(dacted) x reader, potentially yandere in the future but aimed to be fluffy and normal for the most part. Reader accidentally cuts themselves. I use y/n since i personally discovered a y/n replacer plug in for ao3.

Chapter: Prologue

——

"—our understanding of how and where life on Earth can exist. Since then, hundreds more.." 

The narrator's voice drones on in the background, soon joined by the ambience of the kitchen. A whistling kettle, knife chopping through vegetables, steam rising into the vent from a sizzling pan. The curtains along the window sway as a gentle wind sweeps in. 

".. one major site of high vent abundance is the East Pacific Rise, where the major–" 

"Crap-!" 

You jolt, your hand dropping the knife with a clatter onto the kitchen floor as you hurry to squeeze your finger. Blood rushes with equal hurry to the cut at the tip of your finger, staining your palm when you open to view the damage. You suck in a breath softly at the rising pain, sighing and moving to run it under water to soothe it, before hurrying further into your house to search for a bandaid. 

At least, perhaps you are. [̴̮̜̲̈́̄̍R̷̤̜̐̐̆E̵̻͑́͗D̵̰͓̣̐A̸̭͍̪̓̌́Ć̶̢͓̆̎Ṱ̸̈͊̚Ȇ̷͚̭̼͛̕̚D̵͕̹̐̍͑͝]̷̨̊̍̅ assumes that to be the case. 

They click their tongue, his hand falling from the shutters of his blinders as he steps back. He'd chosen to observe you through the conveniently placed kitchen window facing his own house. He falls back into the darkness of his home– 

Home. that's where he is, right now. 

If they can even call it that. 

[̴̮̜̲̈́̄̍R̷̤̜̐̐̆E̵̻͑́͗D̵̰͓̣̐A̸̭͍̪̓̌́Ć̶̢͓̆̎Ṱ̸̈͊̚Ȇ̷͚̭̼͛̕̚D̵͕̹̐̍͑͝]̷̨̊̍̅ would have been greatly pleased to simply stay in the nicer areas of Corland Bay, but avoiding scrutiny and laying low was ideal. Especially with the resurgence of.. 

He shrugs, walking over to his gaming chair and plopping down with a heavy sigh, their eyelids hanging heavier than usual as they lean back. Moving wasn't easy, but relatively less harder for someone like him. Moving meant leaving behind memories, people, something heavy. 

But not them, someone who had nothing worth carrying anyway. A memory clipped and buried under a sandpit, extinguished fires that felt phantom on his skin, and a name he barely bothered to scrape with. People who come from nothing, leave behind nothing. 

Your arrival wasn't supposed to happen. At least, not until after a month. Or more. 

Their tongue presses up against the roof of their mouth, feeling the metal piercing, as he closes his eyes. He was sure he'd glitched out the details online for good – no surrounding neighbors, all peace and quiet. Between calls for temporary jobs, embezzling money from corporations, blocking [̸̛̤̩̓̓Ë̵̟́R̴̤̻̍̇͜Ŕ̵̪̠͖͉͠Ȍ̷̝̗̬̀͒͘Ŕ̴͔̹͎̣͌̽̐]̸͚̼͗̑͋͝ despite the many accounts and messages; it slipped from his grasp. Someone must have fixed it again, and in no time did you find it. 

His new 'neighbor'. 

His fingers drum over the arm rest as he opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Messing up the website until it was irreparable would just make things more unstable. He needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could stay longer; possibly even never move— 

Although, the idea is far too fanatical for [̴̮̜̲̈́̄̍R̷̤̜̐̐̆E̵̻͑́͗D̵̰͓̣̐A̸̭͍̪̓̌́Ć̶̢͓̆̎Ṱ̸̈͊̚Ȇ̷͚̭̼͛̕̚D̵͕̹̐̍͑͝]̷̨̊̍̅, especially considering his "hobbies". 

But things were still in balance. The scale hasn't started tipping too far. yet.

They suck in a breath, lazily moving up to sit straight, the back of the gaming chair following suit. Most times, ignoring was easy. He could just carry on with his life, and you with yours. 

He'd noticed and watched, quietly, the monotony of the movers unloading and shifting in cardboard boxes, furniture. A life into the once solitary house. Followed by a long silence as you closed the door once the last box was in. The night continued like normal, but [̴̮̜̲̈́̄̍R̷̤̜̐̐̆E̵̻͑́͗D̵̰͓̣̐A̸̭͍̪̓̌́Ć̶̢͓̆̎Ṱ̸̈͊̚Ȇ̷͚̭̼͛̕̚D̵͕̹̐̍͑͝]̷̨̊̍̅ felt oddly on edge with the new presence next door.

It was in the morning when "noticing" turned into "observation". 

When he stepped out for a break from the various screens, he noticed your presence — music playing from the kitchen, an abrupt pause only to be replaced with a documentary, people already stopping by to welcome you to the neighborhood, housewarming presents being passed. A part of him was annoyed; hopefully you don't expect it from him. And even worse; more people around your house meant more exposure around his. 

God, he hopes you never visit. He hopes no one ever knocks. 

A faint scowl forms on his face, absentmindedly clicking away on anything, sharp blue eyes occasionally snapping to the blinders over his window as if expecting your face to pop up right behind it. 

——

You hum, walking down the stairs into your living room where the documentary lulls in the background, scrolling on your phone with one hand, the other lazily gliding over the handrail.

Speaking of other houses - the other neighbors were not so friendly. Nice, but not kind - or as you assume.

You stop once you reach the end of the staircase, taking a moment to reply to all the new “welcome” messages from the new group chat you’re added to. Of course, there’s a few flaws where you live - a reason rent is surprisingly cheap - but the neighbors are ridiculously friendly. Violet — a white haired woman, was the first to greet you and quickly work to get you incorporated into the group chat with everyone in the neighborhood. It’s no surprise, considering her place is facing yours directly. You’re perhaps lucky she has a green thumb - the smell of your burnt cooking might at least not waft into the other houses since the scent is covered by her flowers. 

Violet mentions the other neighbors; the ones on your right being distant and working late nights. You may occasionally see them, but that is a rare chance occurrence.

The one on your left, however, proves to be more intriguing.

You sigh again, moving to take a seat in your living room as you scroll through all the new contacts you’ve added, your fingers stopping at…

You look up from your phone momentarily to glance out your kitchen window; directly facing the house to your left. The shutters are closed, and according to Violet, perpetually so.

You fold up your legs, gnawing on your lips as you wonder about your apparent “shut-in” of a neighbor. You take a moment to think of the word,

Well, since he’s your neighbor.. Technically it wouldn’t hurt to text him, right?

You zone out for a moment, before pushing it aside. You tap on the empty profile picture, inspecting the number for a bit. There’s no sign of familiarity. A part of you wonders how he looks – maybe glasses, a fedora, and..

“Hiki..”

You feel an unpleasant shiver crawl up your spine, to which you immediately shake your head and reimagine. Perhaps dark circles, overgrown hair..

You sigh, shaking your head again, plopping back onto the sofa.

“Ah.”

You stare at the ceiling.

You remember now.

…

Although it’s a bit of a strange name, perhaps you’ll save his contact as such until he tells you. It’s easier that way.

———

[moonsaver]

hello! i just wanted to say i'm a huge fan of your tamagotchi-esque writings (the care packages?) and i've experimented with those scenarios and my own oc receiving the packages ... it's been a lot of fun! ☺️

also, your writing in general is amazing?? really wonderful to read. have a nice day!

Thank you anon! You're very kind <3 im glad to know the care package series has been getting a lot of appreciation.

I hope you have a wonderful day ahead !

[moonsaver]

Please, don't ignore me, please donate to me, I really need it.

Even if it is small, it makes a big difference🙏🏻😭💔

!

[moonsaver]

Inbox is open! Feel free to read the rules and send in any requests :) or just general thirsting, lore rambling, etc..

[moonsaver]

Hello dear

I need help to buy some cooking gas, our bodies are tired from working on the fire and lighting it🙏🏻😭💔

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-yasmins-family-find-safety-and-stability

Please donate even if it is a little please, I really need it I know you have a kind heart 🥺💔

!

[moonsaver]

Hi there 🌱 I hope you are doing well. My name is Naser, and I’m from Gaza. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, but I wanted to share a piece of my story — because right now, it’s the only way I know to try and survive.

This war has changed everything. I lost my mother and my sister. Our home is gone. What used to be a normal life — school, family meals, laughter — has been replaced by fear, rubble, and silence.

Now, I’m displaced with my three younger brothers. I’ve become their protector, their parent, their hope. We sleep side by side and I try to make them feel safe, even when I’m scared too.

We are trying to raise funds to rebuild our lives — to find a safe place, to go back to school, to have something to believe in again. I dream of going to university. My brothers have their own dreams too — of being a doctor, an engineer, just being kids again.

If you’re able to support us by donating 💌 or even just sharing our campaign 🔁, it would truly mean the world. Every small act of kindness brings us a little closer to hope.

Visit my post

Thank you for taking the time to read this 🙏 And if you'd rather not receive messages like this, please just let me know and I won’t reach out again.

With love and resilience

!

[moonsaver]

Hello, wonderful souls! 🤍🌍

I hope you're doing well. 🌿

Could you help me amplify my family's story and bring awareness to our struggle? 🙏🏻

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or consider donating just $5—your support could truly make a difference in saving lives amidst war and hardship.

Your kindness and voice matter more than you know. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍🌿

🕊️ @mosabsdr | Every share counts. 💫

!

[moonsaver]

Hello,

I hope you’re all doing well. 🌿

I need your help to share my family's story and raise awareness about our struggle. Every voice counts, and your support means the world. 🙏

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or, if you're able, consider donating just $5—it could be life-changing for those facing unimaginable hardship.

Your kindness and solidarity make a real difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍✨

@aboodfmly

!

[moonsaver]

Hello, my name is Saja. I’m a mother to a beautiful 8-month-old baby girl, writing this from a place I never imagined I’d be — surrounded by destruction, holding on to my daughter while the world around us falls apart. 💔

We used to have a home. 🏚 A simple place, but it was filled with love. Now it’s gone. What remains are memories, silence, and an overwhelming fear of what tomorrow may bring.

Each day, I wake up not knowing if we will make it through the next. My daughter should be learning to walk, to smile at strangers, to feel safe in her world — but instead, she’s learning to live in the middle of a war zone. 🕊️

I’m not writing this to ask for pity. I’m sharing our truth because silence won’t protect us. Maybe, through this message, someone will hear us — and care. 🤍

If you feel moved to share our story or offer support, it would mean more than words can say. Every kind act ripples outward. ✨

🔗 Donation Link 📌 Post Link

Thank you for taking a moment to listen. 🙏

!

[moonsaver]

Hi there,

I’m reaching out with a quiet hope in my heart. These days are heavy, and my family is living through a reality filled with uncertainty—but I’m still here, doing my best to hold on and keep going.

If you have a moment, please check out my pinned post.

A simple share could help it reach someone who might be able to make a difference.

If you’re able to give, even the smallest kindness can bring light into the darkest places.

Your time, your voice, your compassion — it all matters more than you know.

With deep gratitude,

@nadinfamily

!

[moonsaver]

My name is Abed.

I’m a survivor from Gaza, holding on to hope in a world that has fallen apart around me. 💔

The life I once knew — my home, my family, my sense of safety — has been shattered by war. Today, I live among the ruins, trying to find a path forward through the rubble and heartbreak. 🏚

Every moment is a battle against fear and uncertainty. What was once ordinary — a safe place to sleep, a future to dream of — now feels like a distant memory. 🕊️

I share my story not to seek pity, but to keep hope alive — to believe that even in the darkest places, kindness can still find a way. 🤍

If my story touches your heart, please consider sharing it or offering support. Every voice, every act of care, brings me one step closer to safety. ✨

Thank you for taking the time to listen. 🙏

Post Link

!

[moonsaver]

Hi, my name is Mosab , I’m from Gaza, and like many here, I’ve lost more than I ever thought I could bear — my family, my home, my sense of safety, and the simple moments that once gave life meaning. 💔

I’m not writing this to ask too much of anyone. I’m sharing a piece of my story — not because I want sympathy, but because I still believe someone, somewhere, might care enough to listen.

If this message finds you at the wrong time, I understand.

I’m truly sorry if it feels like an interruption.

➡️ Please feel free to DM me if you'd rather not receive asks from me — I'll make sure not to contact you again. 🤍

✨ If you do feel moved to help — even by sharing — it means more than words can say.

Every repost, every bit of care, helps keep hope alive in a place that has seen too much darkness.

🙏 Thank you for taking the time to read.

📌 Post Link

Wishing you peace, healing, and comfort — wherever you are.

With deep appreciation

!

[moonsaver]

I might empty out my inbox and give yall a heads up on when its open again! I feel like its been stagnant for a while now so im just gonna go ahead and refresh it.

[moonsaver]

Your Phainon shit gives me life, you have extended my life for at least a good decade ♥️

THANK YOU !!!!! i was worri3d it was gonna be ooc or just not that good overall since im a little rusty, its great to see you in my inbox ms ana !!!!! I really appreciate the kindness 💕❤💜💕💜💕💕

[moonsaver]

Yandere phainon fic in celebration of me getting 𝕬𝖓𝖆𝖝𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖘 and finally being able to do SOMETHING about the amphoreus bosses

[moonsaver]

tw; yandere Phainon, obsessive feelings/tendencies, arranged/forced marriage au. Phainon x reader (gender neutral). One sided yearning. Different setting from that of Amphoreus, kind of a royal au?

Also extremely ooc probably. Idk anything much about amphoreus <3

———

Phainon is perfect. Without flaws. A hero. A lover.

So why can't you love him?

Sure, he never expected an arranged union to go anywhere he wanted. It was an obvious rocky start. Stilted conversations, withheld words, occasional stiffness from your side. Of course he was patient. Titans above, how could he not be? It was unutterably obvious how in love he was growing with you – the perfect hero fumbling over his words and blushing like a swan over his supposed "lover".

But it was equally, and painfully obvious, you didn't return his feelings.

And he was fine with it. So frustratingly understandable. So kind. So patient. So soft. Just for you. Just because he loved you.

Until he wasn't.

Polishing his sword was a double edged knife – the clear Sunny sky a reflection of the peace under his rule, and the burgeoning of his own heart on the other edge when your mirage of a reflection appears, vanishing in an instant behind the cloth as he slides it over the sleek metal, stopping just once as his mind processes the glimpse.

It was like you haunted him. Made him obsessed.

Like seeing the past and the future reflected in countless mirrors; he saw you everywhere.

The echo of your shoes as he follows, just a corner behind, his own creaking silently, hurried steps as he grows closer, and as he rounds the corner, winded, you vanish. Signs you were in rooms – your hairbrush splayed on your mattress, adornments scattered over your dressing table, candles burnt and melted, the wax imprinting on your other furniture, the hint of your perfume snaking into his senses, penetrating his weak resistance.

You were everywhere but in his arms.

And he never dared to encapsulate you without your will.

He stares down at your golden-lit face, eyes half lidded and silently swirling with the haze of wine and exotics. His arm wraps around your propped up knees, his cheek resting on your kneecap, looking down at you. Your hair splays perfectly on the silk pillows, your slip twisted and folded around your figure makes it easier to see the rise and fall of your chest. Even, and deep. Your arm thrown over your stomach.

His eyes don't dare peer directly into the Sun, but he swears he can touch it.

So he allowed himself an exception. Once. Curiously entering your room when you weren't present, noting the way you liked to keep your curtains, the candles you burned often, whistling quietly to himself as he picked up your hairbrush, casually inspecting the insignia of your family on its broad back. The wedding gift you were so devastated to recieve.

Once turned to twice.

As the Sun sets, did he leave. And as the Moon rises, he returned.

Quietly, he sat, the mattress dipping under his weight as he watched your back. The pillows remained untouched on his side, the side he would traditionally occupy, and of course, under your displeasure, did he never breach the film of stillness over it. It was still the same as the night the servants fixed it for your arrival, for both of you to unite. And of course, that never happened.

His eyes follow the curve and the ridges of your back, down to your hips and your legs.

He had seen the Moon, and he swears he'll feel it. One day he will.

Twice turned to thrice.

But there was no excuse this time.

What does the Sun think, when it sets it's eyes upon the Moon twice a cycle? No more, no less.

Sunrise, he approaches you, insisting on helping you dress for the day. Despite the awkward resistance of the servants, an amicable smile and a reassurance is all they need to scurry away and leave him in your silent presence.

You want to speak, force the whistling pot to boil over and burst, bright hot and red. But all that's reminiscent of your anger now, are the flickering candles in your room. An unwanted union long done. Phainon is nothing like you. He watches the pot boil, the water sizzle from it's edges and evaporate into fumes. Tampering with the flame, increasing, decreasing, always stabilizing the simmering until it's impossible to go further. Right before it boils over, does he snuff out the fire.

It's always the small things. The purposeful grazing of his fingers over the skin of your back as he "helps" you. The slow movement as he covers your shoulders with fabric. The eye contact he tries to bridge through the mirror facing you. The barely restrained, quiet breathing of his hot breath on the curve of your neck, as he reaches over to your front from behind, fixing the folded fabrics around your waist. He swears he can admire every speck of you like stars blurring an ink stained night.

You don't say anything – what can you? a man reputed to be of his people, high standing, without flaws. A lover yearning endlessly for the scornful. It's not like you haven't heard what the others whisper and mutter about you. You bite your lip, and unfortunately attract the attention of your "lover's" peculiar blue eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.

He's done. But he doesn't move. You feel the faint heat buzzing from his front to your back.

Phainon ponders what the Moon dreams of.

——

Jealousy was a laughable thing.

Phainon's familiar voice echoes through the gathering, unfortunately for you. Learning to avoid someone is simply the other face of the coin, the same as learning to find someone. Perhaps Zagreus laughs at you.

You sigh, observing the golden coin in the palm of your hand. It's insignia is foreign to the land Phainon rules over.

Rather, it's more familiar to you than was Phainon's.

The insignia of Castrum Kremnos.

Jealousy, yearning, devastation. Laughable, silly feelings under the various Titans' watchful gazes. A minor inconvenience easy to dissolve under plethoras of problems. Except perhaps Mnestia.

But trivial feelings matter most to those who have nothing else filling their vessel.

Unfortunately, that was you.

For once, you may understand Phainon's yearning, your gaze sweeping hazily across the gathering and subtly landing on the Prince clad in red.

Fiery, restrained, straightforward. An equal standing to Phainon.

Your eyes, swirling more with the champagne and wines you've drank throughout the night, admire the man he could have been. Admire the man that could've belonged to you. The red markings over his body moving with his muscles as he raises his cup to the other man. You avert your eyes before someone catches on, but your imagination is more than enough to envision the intensity of his golden gaze.

You think you realise what it's like to stare at the Sun.

There's a reason people don't do it. There's a reason Phainon always jokes in silence about it. There's always a reason his eyes follow yours everywhere you look.

You place your empty glass on the table, and move to leave. Phainon decides to cut his meeting short.

He thinks the Sun burns the Moon.

——

He slumps down into your bed.

The soft sheets of the mattress, cool against his skin, sticky with sweat. The crumble of your soft quilts framing the edge of your bed. The lingering of your scent so unquestionably you.

He looks rabid – he's sure of it. You were his undoing the entire evening. His eyes are blown wide open, his breathing uneven, erratic, but restrained. He stares at your ceiling, countless obsessive thoughts warring so loudly in his head that it renders him motionless, stiff. His hands clench into fists at his sides, crumbling the soft silk, thrust into by his fingers and threads snapping in his palm.

He couldn't find you. Upon return to the gathering, Mydeimos had mentioned the agitated and restless demeanor of the Hero. It was as though watching the Sun swallow the Moon. But Phainon could barely pay attention, barely laugh.

The gathering ended early. He returned to your empty room. The moon poured in through your shifted curtains, wind knocking gently at your windows. No candles were lit. It was as though the room was holding it's breath in his presence.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the air cloggy and sodden in his chest. His fist relaxes, the distressed fabric released from his grip.

he wonders if you spoke to Mydei. If you smiled at him.

Something quiet rose in his chest. White hot. Trodden and ugly.

he wonders if your hand grazed against his. If you allowed him the luxury of feeling your gentle breath fan his shoulder.

A creak resounds in the silent room, stirring Phainon from his impossibly swirling thoughts.

You stand there, clad in thin nightwear, like the gentle film over a still pond. Phainon sits at the edge of your bed, observing you for a moment.

You stay silent, disturbed.

He doesn't break the silence – rather he immobilizes it.

He gets up, walking towards you. You take equal measures back, an unsure hand stretching behind as if to reach for the door. Phainon is faster. He corners you, right against the door.

The moon shadows his face.

You must be on the wrong side of an eclipse.

This time – it feels as though the Moon swallows the Sun.

——