ven-vxn

[ven-vxn]

PERCHANCE — ft. hsr men !!

you and your lover live in a shared space, and oftentimes, you hear and experience things that you aren’t supposed to, however annoying, entertaining, and distressing it can be; so basically, dealing with annoying neighbours, couple break-ups, or unusual occurrences.

CONTENT TAGS — established relationship, you're both adults, fluff, you either live in a house or an apartment, cursing, scenarios, possibly ooc, kind of crack | wc: 3.1k

DIRECTOR NOTES — have this random silly idea i had while i was waiting for the train anyways i dont know how this got so long i swear i was just fucking around and writing and im also running out of titles ARGGGSHHHSH

what's next? navigation | masterlist

CAELUS

Your neighbours were arguing. Again. It’s something that you have already grown used to. So what do you and Caelus do? Of course, listen to it. It has become part of your nightly ritual, after all. You have both of your ears pressed against the wall, hushing one another, scolding for even breathing too loud because you cannot hear shit clearly. Tonight’s episode seems to be titled, “WHOSE LASHES IS THIS IN YOUR CAR?”, purely based on what you’ve been hearing behind the wall. 

The pieces of information that you got from yesterday’s together connect to each other like missing dots—that girl you’ve seen enter the apartment last time when the girlfriend had already left for work, which is the same girl you’ve seen in the highlights of the girlfriend’s account with the name, ‘4lyf’. You are wide-eyed staring at one another, sending telepathic messages, hoping that the both of you are on the same wavelength. You had your hopes up when he repeatedly nodded to your hushed question of “Do you know what this means?” 

However, when your debriefing came later on, hours after the bickering of the couple next door had ended, the both of you had come to different conclusions, making you wonder how did he even get there. 

“He’s clearly cheating on her with her best friend." You say. 

He then replies: “Or maybe homeboy just likes collecting lashes. You know those people who keep their fingernails clippings?”

“What, Caelus, that’s disgusting. Don’t tell me you do that?”

“What kind of image do you even have of me in your head?”

DAN HENG

Dan Heng sees you camping by the hallway like the nosy person you are as soon as he gets home, hiding behind the slightly open door, eavesdropping on the couple, ex-lovers, or a pair with a romantic history (a gut-wrenching situationship) bickering. 

You immediately beckon him over, placing a finger against your lips to silence any of his questions, and by the time he arrives by your side you pull him aside: “They’ve been at it for hours.” You say, completely focused on a pair of a couple of strangers, eyes gleaming with the fervor as if you’re watching your favorite show on TV. 

“And you’ve been here for hours?” He replies, which you immediately hush him. It’s rather painful to admit, but there’s this feeling that boils in his chest, and he can’t help but be upset. Something sharp and unwelcome twists in his chest at how utterly captivated you are by this strangers' mess when he's standing right here, when he could be giving you his full attention. Why are you paying so much attention to someone that isn’t him?

“I don’t really know what’s going on but it looks so interesting, so I can’t help it.” You utter, still not sparing a glance at him. Clearly, you weren’t the only one as the others are doing the same thing—even the ones from a different floor are lingering by the stairs.

With a long-suffering sigh that doesn't quite mask his irritation, he hooks a finger in your collar and bodily drags you away from your makeshift opera show, ignoring your indignant squawks as he herds you back inside, effectively distracting you with something else.

PHAINON

There are some pretty loud sounds and creaking that has been going on in the apartment next door. 

At first, Phainon and you dismissed it. I mean, it’s not like those kinds of things are not normal and both of you weren’t the purest beings out there in this world. Besides, that was just the only time it’s going to happen, right? 

Wrong. 

You are completely and utterly wrong because for DAYS you have been enduring those damn sounds and for days you are losing sleep over it. It haunts you every single night for hours as soon as the clock strikes nine as if it was a damn routine of theirs. You tried knocking back against the wall, a signal, but they didn't stop. Matter of fact, they get louder.

By the time a week has passed by, or banged by, both you and Phainon have reached a level of zen-like resignation that would concern even the most seasoned monks. 

Night comes once more, his eyes are glazed over as the headboard next door pounds rhythmically against the wall in what can only be described as architectural assault. He’s long since given up on subtlety, muttering, “Good for them,” with the hollow cheer of a man who has accepted his fate. You, on the other hand, are biting your lip to keep from laughing at the way his eye twitches every time a particularly enthusiastic moan pierces the air. 

He suddenly rolls over, pulls you in his arms, and squeezes you tightly like you were a life-sized stress ball, “You’re laughing, we’re both miserable, and you’re laughing.” Perhaps it was better to bang at your neighbor's door tomorrow to give them a change of pace, or a new definition of pounding.

ANAXAGORAS

Anaxa is not one to be able to tolerate such things. I mean, how many times has this been already? Every single time there is a damn delivery addressed to your door, it’s not really addressed to you nor him, but to the person who lives next to you. You wouldn’t mind it if it was just a one-time occurrence, but no, because nearly every single day you’ll always have someone knocking and yelling: “Delivery for (insert name of your neighbour who is pissing you off and inconveniencing you with this thing)!”

From food, to jewelry, to clothes, to shoes, to flowers, you name it all. It feels like you had the entire mall fall into your entire doorstep already. It gets annoying especially when it overlaps with some of your expected deliveries. Imagine being so excited for your parcel to arrive that you’d run to your door, abandoning whatever you are doing, only to discover that it wasn’t even yours?!?

“This is getting annoying.” You grumble, invading Anaxa’s personal space as he reads from his book, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I agree.”

So what does Anaxa propose to do instead? Accepting the deliveries before his neighbour could open the door and tell the guy that it’s theirs. From then on, you are enjoying the luxuries of free food and items. Though it only lasted for five days because your lovely neighbor didn’t put your address as the delivery place anymore after your small squabble with them. Bummer.

Why were they even putting your address for deliveries anyway? Turns out your neighbour was scamming people left and right online and putting your address as to not get in trouble in case authorities get involved. Well, they did get involved and they also did end up at your door but you simply redirected them to the right place.

MYDEIMOS

As a great philosopher has once said, for one to arrange their furniture, one must do it in the morning. Not during the ass fucking crack of dawn when you’re already wandering and skipping in your dreamland, talking to a purple dinosaur. As soon as he hears that loud banging, screeching, and scraping of something coming from the place above, Mydei does not waste a single second.

“What the fuck.” You say, groggy and having just woken up from your sleep when a loud sound of something crashing is heard from above. You would have thought someone broke into your place until you saw Mydei right beside you, leaning against the headboard, arms crossed across his chest.

“What was that? Did you hear that?” You’re already bombarding him with questions, trying to make sense of what’s happening until you hear another sound of something scraping just above your ceiling and it doesn’t stop for a minute. If you were in a cartoon, your whole place would already be shaking just for the effect of it.

“I’m going to talk to them.”

“Huh?” You say, confused, watching as your lover gets out of bed. “Who?” Your eyes follow him as he randomly picks a shirt from his closet. 

Before he completely leaves, he crosses the room until he’s leaning over you, one hand cradling your cheek as if you’re something sacred. His thumb brushes beneath your eye and before you realize it, he’s already tilting your face up, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

When he finally pulls back, he murmurs, “Stay here.” And then you never see him again.

Just kidding, you do. Just a few minutes later when he slips back into bed and tells you to go back to sleep, while he embraces you. You don’t question him or what he did, and surely enough, your sleep was peaceful and quiet.

BOOTHILL

ASSERT DOMINANCE, Boothill claims as he’s already rolling his sleeves and preparing to take out the speaker system.

He was already not having it. Months of having to deal with his so-called neighbours, also so-called ‘friends’, and their never-ending parties that disturb your sleep to which they’ll compensate with a half-assed apology the next morning only to do the same thing again during the night. In addition to that nuisance too is how some of these dumbasses would occasionally stumble into your door, mistaking it for the party venue. Clearly, they don’t see the loud ass house with disco lights just behind them.

After another intoxicated fool ends up at your doorstep again, his already-broken composure falters as he swings the door open with a rather pissed off grin, gaze burning with so much intensity. "Lost, darling?" he purrs, voice dripping saccharine venom as the stranger blinks blearily at him. One glance at you who bore a tired look on your face and back to Boothill who's still hovering by the doorway, glaring, and the poor soul suddenly remembers they have somewhere else to be. That was it, that was the last straw.

So here you are, trying to stop him as he drags the speakers to the porch, firing up a playlist exclusively consisting of a guy imitating how Hugh Jackman would sing certain songs (please get the reference) and Mariah Carey’s entire discography.

Not long after, the neighbour’s party stops dead. Although a verbal argument did break out, with your lover’s amazing vocabulary and machine-gun like mouth, he won.

"See, darlin’? Sometimes the best way to shut a party down is to throw a better one."

In the end, both you and the neighbours got a noise complaint.

JING YUAN

There’s a couple breaking up across the street and they were yelling loud enough to wake up even the neighbourhood’s deepest sleeper. So like the chad Jing Yuan and you are, of course, you sit by your porch on the pretense that you are… simply sightseeing. Yes, sightseeing. 

That’s why you have your chairs out with glasses of juice along with some leftover popcorn that you made last night. Oh, and also, your binoculars. If only you could read lips to complete your experience, but it’s alright, because this couple (or not to be) is screaming and hollering loudly, as the lady throws into the streets what you assume to be his belongings. 

The spectacle escalates to something like you would see from a telenovela, shame there are no grand reveals and slapping involved. But the girl did fling a ceramic vase at him, to which the man dodges, unfortunately.

“I wonder what the guy did.” You mumble, taking a mouthful of popcorn. Your bucket was nearly empty now and at the same time, it seems like your show is coming to an end as the woman stomps back inside and leaves the guy behind. With that, Jing Yuan rises from his chair, stretching languidly before offering you his arm. 

"Shall we retire for intermission, my dear? I believe Act Two will involve either tearful reconciliation or a round two of their fight. Either way, we'll want fresh snacks." It’s no lie that your lover is positively radiant with amusement despite the disruption it created for your usually peaceful, warm afternoon.

SUNDAY

Sunday deals with the neighbours’ drunken chaos the way a saint tolerates blasphemy. Despite the nuisance it has brought with the loud bass that seem to shake the whole place awake, he’s still formal and proper in handling the situation.

The door opens after a few minutes of knocking and waiting and a lady greets him.

“My apologies for interrupting your revelry, but I’m afraid you’re disturbing everyone with your enthusiastic celebration.” Specifically you. The thought of you being weary and troubled as you lose sleep over this terrible disturbance is making his chest tighten. He doesn’t wish to see you suffer, so he ignores your insistence of just leaving the neighbours alone. “Some of us have work in the morning.”

The woman blinks slowly and cries, “I’M NOT READY TO DIE YET!” 

Hell is quieter than their playlist, that’s for sure. 

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Please, it is clear that you are not of sober mind,” he forces a smile, “so allow me to make this simple for you. We would appreciate it if you were to immediately comply with local noise ordinance, lest we escalate this to the authorities. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

That seemed to have sobered her up, and though annoyed, the lady apologized and went back inside. Soon, the music comes to a halt and everything is embraced by silence. Relieved, he returns to your side after accomplishing what he was here for, bringing you a warm cup of tea to drink as he tells you of how his conversation went down, saying something about how some people wouldn't recognize peace if it bit them.

BLADE

You’ve just moved into the neighborhood, hoping to have a fresh, warm start together with your beloved. But life seems to have different plans for you.

There’s this group of teenagers making a commotion every day by the front of your house, coinciding at the same time that he’s away. From lighting up fireworks which resulted in burning off a few of your plants as it flew off the wrong direction, to laughing and playing loudly that you often find your afternoon nap being disturbed, and to even throwing eggs at your window as they compete with one another on who’ll get to hit the highest. It’s annoying, especially when you have already told them off many times before but they never listen. These brats.

Eventually, you’ve resorted to telling Blade about it, nearly breaking down in the process. I mean, it was stressing you out so much and although it could just be a small thing for others—reasoning it with how they’re just children and having fun—, it was making you frustrated. 

Blade makes an effort to comfort you, even reassuring you that he’ll deal with the problem. You just nod and accept it, knowing that he won’t be able to do anything against these young, wild, and free teenagers. 

You didn’t know that doubting Blade was a big mistake because somehow, when the next day comes, he had managed to bring them over to you and had them apologize, swearing that they’ll never bother you again.

“We’re so sorry!”

“We’re never going to do it again!”

“Please forgive us!”

You did scold them, kindly, before forgiving them and oddly enough, it was satisfying. It feels like a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“What did you do?” You ask him as soon as the kids leave.

“Stared at them.”

AVENTURINE

In all honesty, it’s rare for you to hear anything scandalous or experience something frustrating, so things can get a little boring. But when drama does strike, you and Aventurine are front-row spectators, dissecting every juicy detail.

This time, however, the gossip seems to involve you. There is a girl, a stranger, standing in front of you, yelling and accusing you of things that you don’t even remember doing. Your confusion and silence, however, prompts the stranger to hesitate and stop.

“Wait, you’re not [Name]?”

“I am…?”

"You bitch! Are you trying to confuse me or what?!" Furious, her hand flies up—only for Aventurine to catch her wrist with ease, letting go of it soon after.

“Perhaps there is a small misunderstanding. If I remember correctly, there are two [Name]’s in here.” he shields you behind him, holding your hand as if to reassure you, “I believe that the person you are looking for is them.” He says, directing her attention to somewhere else.

And funnily enough, there is another girl a few steps away, attempting to cover their face with their purse, trying to run away before they get caught. But it’s too late as the girl finally realizes who her target truly is. 

“YOU!” She storms over, heels clanking loudly against the floor. “I knew it was you!” You beg to differ.

The scene immediately escalated into a catfight accompanied with yelling and spilling the most atrocious things like how this paramour was also sleeping with the man’s sister. Wow, messy.

“Should we call the security?”

“I already did.” Aventurine casually says, squeezing your hand as he tugs you away from the spectacle. Walking back to your home and away from the mess, he takes this moment to tease you:

“Babe, you should have told me you had another man.”

“I do not!”

GALLAGHER

“And what’s troubling my beloved?” Gallagher asks as soon as he sees your rather stressed state—bags heavy under your eyes, hair disheveled, and the demeanor of someone who’s been pushed to their limit. You groan, flopping face-first onto the couch with a muffled scream into the cushion.

Gallagher hums, already pouring you a glass of water before settling beside you. His calloused fingers card through your hair, listening patiently, as you rant about the latest neighborhood nuisance: there is this constant thump-thump-thump noise that happens at exactly 3 AM. 

You’ll find yourself waking up to it often, cursing at that repeated sound that’s making your head explode. It lasts for an hour, sometimes less than it, but it occurs at the same time of dawn. You’ve adapted to it now by covering your ears with some plugs you bought from the store after days of having it happen to you.

“It’s just so annoying! Does it not bother you?” You say, rolling over to your back and staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t recall ever waking up to anything with that sound.” Right, you forgot how this man can be such a heavy sleeper at times.

“Lucky you.” You groan. “It sounded like someone's bouncing a basketball? Or maybe hammering nails? I don't even know anymore."

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, gazing at you affectionately as he caresses your cheek. “Maybe we can talk to them tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we could, they’re just next door anyway.” You mutter, sitting up slightly to rub your tired eyes. 

Gallagher’s hand stills against your skin. “What do you mean next door?”

“You know, unit 305. The one right next to us.”

“My love.”

“What? You’re scaring me, Gallagher.” You whisper, pulse quickening as his gaze flicks toward the wall.

“Nobody lives there.”

i procrastinated on this for days then as soon as i finished i got informed i have a 150-page reading due

© AZULLUMI. plagiarism of any form and type, stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is NOT permitted.

[ven-vxn]

hsr 3.5 feels like this

[ven-vxn]

Yandere Alphabet↬Phainon

Warnings: General Yandere themes, Discussion on topics such as Abduction, Coercion, Stalking, Emotionally Manipulative Behaviors, Social Isolation, Non-graphic depictions of violence, Gaslighting, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Suicide (one mention) and Unhealthy Relationships. Some spoilers for Phainon's lore. SFW.

♡ Word Count: 6304

♡ Yandere Alphabet prompt credits to @/dear-yandere. artwork credits.

♡ Note: This was more of a personal challenge that I've been wanting to do for a long time but, never got to because no character managed to occupy my thoughts that hard. But Phainon did it lol. Please excuse any unintentional errors and enjoy<3

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

In Phainon's case, the question we should be asking is how does he not show affection. See, Phainon's notable characteristic that is often mentioned by others in game — the one that qualifies him to be the World-bearer — is his ability to imbibe everyone's hopes and wishes and carry them along ‘as if’ they were his own.

However, when Phainon falls in love, truly and wholeheartedly ; the experience that will be borne of that phenomenon is something that is his and his alone. For the first time in his life, his desires and dreams cannot be traced back to someone else, he isn't striving for something that was incipient from another's wishes. For the first time in his life, he's enticed by selfishness.

This new discovery makes him feel both uncomfortable and… fulfilled, strangely. The discomfort is prevalent in the initial stage, when he's still trying to digest the fact that more and more of his priorities are shifting their tone from plural to singular. Sure, it unsettles him when an event that he would previously want to include all of his friends in seems much more desirable to celebrate with you only — but, it also feels… natural to want to do so with you alone.

Perhaps that's just because the exhilaration is always more active in the beginning, curiosity nudging his young heart to explore this fresh territory. Of course, as time proves next, it wasn't simply a case of hormones.

So, how does Phainon cope with this love that is so particular to him? Ironically, through the very same quality that he'd been so conflicted about, by imbibing every piece and aspect of yourself that he's observed and you've gifted him, until you become an integral part of his personality, so to say. And when he's made you take reigns over his every thought and action, his affection will spill forth — in his words, in his silence, in his gaze and in the way his body becomes spellbound when you're around.

Phainon is not someone who remains tethered to one or two ways when it comes to giving love, he constantly switches between every method known to mankind. But some things are repeated more frequently. He loves to talk to you, wants to hear your voice again and again until it becomes something he can hear with clarity even in his dreams, he memorizes your idiolect by heart ; so that even if Ciphera herself were to take on your appearance, he'd know immediately that it's not you. Denying him your voice is one of the fastest punishments you can give him.

He also views physical touch as particularly valuable. He doesn't really realize how touch starved he is until that first brush against your fingertips and all of a sudden, his thoughts are spiraling into far more dangerous territories. This is another aspect to his burning desire to know about every minuscule detail about your being. He wants to know and he wants to be the only one to know about every crease and ripple on your skin. So that even if he goes blind, the image of you may be the clearest one in his mind.

He likes giving gifts, but not empty ones. Every one of them must have some sort of meaning behind them and he always anticipates that you'd be able to deduce what they are. He wants to go on so many adventures with you and he can turn even the most mundane chores sound like an adventure, bear no doubt in that regard. Not that he's going to impose menial chores on you while he's still very much alive with functioning arms and legs. Every morsel of your attention and every minute of your time that you give him is a blessing to him and he doesn't wish to be deprived of this boon, ever.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

When it comes to dealing with external forces that inconvenience you, distress you or come between you two, Phainon has very little concern for his Hero image. If it was something that was causing him problems? He could and would bear with it. But when it comes to the people who he cherishes, he's willing to go miles and it's you we're talking about.

This case of being empowered to do something that may or may not be morally just in behest of his love for you is rather problematic, actually. For one, it makes him even more reckless and two, the person he's doing it for will likely not appreciate it. That's fine by him though. In his head, he's laser focused on the fact that the harm he's doing to someone else is merely a payback for the harm that person has done to you, or to the ‘bond’ you two share. That thought process protects him from giving into the itch that his conscience begets.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

In my opinion, Phainon would not abduct his darling. He, however, does isolate and confine.

Regardless of how careful you might be with him, he's going to teeter close to these roads sooner or later. It may begin rather harmlessly. ‘That person you were talking with gave off odd vibes to me, just saying.’ Everyone knows how much of an amicable fellow Phainon is, if he is saying that there is something off about someone… it's probably in your best interest to be wary of them, right? Your group of friends unintentionally said or did something hurtful? He's been holding back his tongue for so long! They obviously don't know how to treasure you, why don't you hang out with his friends instead?

The extreme form of this is when he resorts to confinement. Get hurt enough times to the point where you can't dismiss it as being clumsy anymore, an assassination attempt made by the Council of Elders or worse, a penumbra of Flame Reaver around you? He's going to make you move in with him, to the safest house designed in the history of Amphoreus probably ; every lock tested, every nook tethered with Aglaea's golden threads, every inch baby-proofed.

You can't even get mad at him at that stage, because he looks so out of his element. Rest and meals neglected, thoughts of your safety constantly whirring in his head, hyper-aware of everything yet exhausted to his atoms. It's a pitiful picture.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He certainly can. For example, uprooting the weeds (read: troublesome people) from your life, assuming that this isn't something you told him to do. It's just in his nature to handle problems that he comes across and because he cares for your mental peace. That, or he has beef with that person in regards to you somehow. Constant surveillance is also something he imposes and he tries to keep you unaware about it for as long as possible.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

That all depends on you. If you're someone who's proven themselves to be capable of providing a safe space for him, the chances of him baring his secrets to you may increase. Offer him gentle touches, understanding words, a feeling of peace and although he'd know very well that you possess a separate motive, his desperate heart that longs for every morsel of your affection might humor you with a few confessions.

In general, Phainon is someone who's much more accustomed to hiding away his fears. But just because he's used to shielding them from the eyes of everyone doesn't mean that the metaphorical jar containing his doubts doesn't exist — cracks and splinters sing of the way his fears overflow from their containment. Poking at him about this is a gamble (and not one I'd recommend) especially if he hadn't consulted you about it himself.

When the matter of being vulnerable in someone else's presence is concerned, being aware of those vulnerabilities is the precondition. Phainon is an interesting case in this regard, at his very core, he's aware of how unhealthy his attachment is and how he's basically destroying himself and much more by loving you this intensely. But this awareness is buried beneath layers upon layers of justifications ; he has to, what is essentially gaslight himself into believing that this is normal, this is protection, this is just his pure love because it'd kill him otherwise.

Confronting that truth, confronting all his fears all by himself and worst of all, letting go of you would ruin him. Far, far more than nurturing this delusion because he's simply spiraled too far away from the edge of sanity and you are the only factor keeping him anchored from losing it completely. So, he'll believe in the ruse until he's turned it into the truth. He'll smile and laugh and wave off your or anyone else's concerns. He'll persist until you, too, have accepted the rationale carved by his hand.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He'd feel very hurt. Regardless of how many layers of reasoning Phainon may try to use as shields, a part of his conscience will always question the rationality in his behavior. Any resistance from you, be it verbal or physical, is validating that part of his conscience that he keeps on pushing away. It's an acerbic reminder that he's teetered too close to the point where you look at him as less of a hero and more of a monster. You'll be surprised at how quickly his self-deception comes close to crumbling completely, because the structure upon which he's relying on to stay sane is incredibly fragile.

Luckily for him, his expression always twists into something that morphs his inner guilt into fitting his primary narrative by itself. Phainon has accolades in the art of looking like a kicked puppy. It's near impossible for the average person to guess the actual complex back-and-forth that is happening in his head, hell, Phainon himself doesn't process the nuances of it. So, you're most likely to think that perhaps you've overreacted this time. He looks hurt enough to make your heart tremble, enough to make you question yourself and enough to earn your reluctant cooperation.

This pattern needs to be repeated just two times before Phainon is also abandoning that voice in his heart, convinced once more that he's in the right. By the looks of it, you're on the exact path that he wants you to tread and you won't be able to realize what you got tangled up in any time soon.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It's not a game, it's his fantasy. In a world that is doomed with destruction, dreaming is the easiest escapism. Phainon weaves visions with the threads of his desires at day, tries to bring those dreams to reality throughout it and ruminates about those dreams when he falls unto slumber. He wants to be yours so badly and he wants you to be his — in the most ‘natural’ way possible, like in those romance stories.

“Escape attempts” have a different meaning when it comes to him. He isn't actually restraining you, he's simply pining you in place with the weight of his name, his titles and his power. He's amused by your attempts… until he isn't. When does this happen? Hard to predict, could be any day where he decides that he's had enough and simply wants to embrace you close to his heart while the world goes to hell or whatever.

If he's in a good mood or if his hold on his patience is still in tact, he won't even take your escapades seriously! It's play to him, he's eager to see what surprising tactic you'll use to evade him, in fact. Escaping from conversations, date attempts and physical initiations are okay to an extent, at least when he's still in a humorous mood. That is only because he's confident that he can catch you with his skills anytime. Trouble occurs when he feels a rift in this confidence.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Probably if he were to emotionally withdraw abruptly, just when you were starting to get used to him or had even returned his affections. It's not that he falls out of love, he could never even if he tried to. It's just that he can resort to distancing himself emotionally from you if life's hardships kept on piling up on him continuously and somehow, the repressed guilt from all his sins would manage to infect his thoughts.

You'd never realize how much Phainon's smile had aided in keeping you somewhat sane until he stopped smiling altogether. It's unnerving beyond words to see the man whose whole being brightens up at your presence, so gloomy and strings of ‘you deserve better than him’ suddenly spilling forth from his lips. This is more of a phase and it will pass if you can be patient, because again, Phainon can never stop loving you even if he tried.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

From the moment Phainon's admiration starts to take shape into love, a dream would begin to haunt his every breath ; you and him, beneath the sky of a bright, sunny day as gentle winds ruffle your hair and guide the wheat fields to dance along their rhythm. You'd fall asleep leaning on his shoulder and he would laugh fondly at his little sleepyhead, gathering you in his embrace and cradling you close to his heart. No monsters, no Black Tide, no cruel prophecies.

Waking up beside you every morning, lazily going through the rest of the day tangled up in each other's presence and going back to sleep with you in his arms. Sharing laughs with friends and family on the weekends. Maybe, with time, a small bundle of joy would further illuminate his home, or more. Regardless of what he becomes, this singular vision always keeps him tethered.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Jealousy is a reflection of one's own insecurities. Typically, love brings with itself a fresh set of insecurities, or triggers old ones. So, jealousy is bound to be enticed in even the most mentally stable person at some point. Phainon is someone who doesn't often get back as much as he gives to others, something that he's learned to accept. But just because he's reluctantly accepted it doesn't mean that he never wishes someone would. With his darling, this ‘giving’ is even more amped up and that subconscious yearning to be given just as much love also develops.

So naturally, when he notices that his devotion isn't exactly being reciprocated, he becomes frustrated. But he'll always give you the benefit of the doubt first. He tries, he tries so hard to be understanding and considerate about your boundaries, he really does. He doesn't really have many good coping mechanisms in general, besides swinging his sword at a hundred more Black Tide creatures.

The best way to describe jealous Phainon is through passive aggression. He might not say it outright, but everyone and their dromases will know of his displeasure through strained smiles, clipped words and rigid body language. It's unnerving to see the usual jolly and polite hero frowning that hard. No one wants to even walk wrong in front of him when he's like that. He doesn't really intend to, but in the end, he makes everyone (including you) feel just as uncomfortable as he does from his rigid demeanor alone.

His jealousy can be triggered through almost everything, but nothing makes him feel as livid as when someone other than him makes you laugh. Phainon prides in his sense of humor and his ability to make people smile! Whenever you're with him, he doubles down on his efforts, as if he was trying to Pavlov you into associating happiness with his presence by the amount of serotonin he tries to entice. So if he sees that exclusive position being threatened, he feels miffed, starts seeing red even.

Phainon gets jealous of things you wouldn't even think someone would be capable of getting jealous of — the wind that brushes past your skin? He wishes that was him. The Chimeras you coo at and give head-pats to? He's glaring at them from behind you and is going to research whether it's possible to turn into a Chimera for a day the moment he gets home. Your pillows and blankets? Titans, he wishes those were him. That mosquito that had the audacity to bite you? Lucky bastard. The list goes on.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

With you, he's typically on his absolute best behavior. His smile is noticeably wider, his laughs don't feel forced, his speech is much more bubbly and overall, he simply looks like a man that's in love. Due to this, it might be difficult for you to believe any contradictory statements about his demeanor from elsewhere. Even if someone may try to sneak in questions to you about what you really feel about him or if you notice any suspicious stuff about him, you may not think too hard about them. Because Phainon is very dedicated to making a good and lasting impression on you. He wants to be someone whose words you'd believe in, who you'd trust and want to rely on in all times.

You have no idea how much power you have over him, everyone else does though. He could be in the middle of a heated negotiation, but the moment you're in the vicinity, he does a 180° and is rubbing cheeks with you like a lost pet. He could be in the midst of a bloody battle, both of his legs chopped off and he'd still crawl to you from across a field and ask if you are alright.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Phainon is one of the Yanderes that tries to follow the traditional route. He'll first try to be your friend, then he'd reveal his romantic interest, a few months or so of courting to ease you into the relationship and then he'll bend down on one knee — at least, this is his preferred route.

If you don't meet each other by chance and he happens to know of your existence first, he lets his attraction marinate for a while. He needs a somewhat clear idea about you, for which he'd need to learn as much as possible. Then he'd plan a rough draft about how he intends to take things from there in his head, which expands all the way to your joint retirement plan by the way. Rule of thumb, if there's capacity for him to have control about how things will go with you, he isn't going to be comfortable with the spontaneity route.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Asking that question to Phainon himself is going to give him an identity crisis on spot. Assuming that ‘true colors’ here refers to a side of Phainon that he actively tries to hide from everyone, even his darling to an extent ; yes, it is different. But if you've observed Phainon a bit, paid attention to his speech, how he acts under pressure, it's also not very surprising to discover that Phainon has a side that is contradictory to his usual sunshine boy image.

Phainon carries burdens from his past, the ghosts of many loved ones and he keeps them hidden under that veneer of a cheerful smile. The more someone does this, the less control they actually end up having over that ‘side’, allowing it to slip through at times.

At least, his fellow Chrysos Heirs have a good idea about this matter. And they also know that your existence works as a good panacea to his woes. So, you can kiss the chances of being helped by the majority of them goodbye. They might call him out at times but, at the end of the day, they need their Deliverer — preferably sane.

The common people don't even see anything wrong with him (they idolize him even), you increase the chances of being dubbed as the irrational one by resisting his most ardent amative advances, in fact. Sooner or later, you will start to question your judgement as well.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Phainon is actually very bad at enacting the usual Yandere punishments, because he's weak for you. If he's ever done anything harmful to you, know that it was unintentional, or that it wasn't ‘Phainon’. He's incapable of doing anything hurtful to you on purpose without causing a flood with his tears or dying a bit inside first. One look at your sad eyes, or any indication of fear and he's already dropping it.

But that doesn't mean that he never gets ruffled enough to want to let you know that he doesn't want to see a repeat of whatever it was that disturbed him. So, he opts for more ‘harmless’ punishments, as they appear on the surface.

His go-to is ‘engulfing you in a bear hug suffocating enough to squeeze your fighting spirit out’. He has the speed, strength and stature to do much worse, you should be smart enough to pick that hint up. Another thing he likes doing is cuffing both of your hands together. You're annoyed by him? Mad at him? Can't stand his face at the moment? Oh, what travesty! Now you're stuck shoulder to shoulder with him and the keys are nowhere to be found either! It's as if even the universe itself is telling you that you can never and should never leave him.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

The first right that's going to be taken away from you is your right to your privacy. Unless your meeting was through a mutual serendipity and Phainon happened to know of you first, he isn't going to immediately approach you, oh no.

As mentioned before, he needs at least the rough draft of a plan and to illustrate that, he needs information. During that period where all he has are fantasies of walking side by side with you, any piece of information he can get his hands on about you is as important as sustenance. First the citizens' records, then the words of people that know you and at last, a more involved approach.

He's your usual case of trying to justify it with things like ‘just in case’ ‘to make sure you aren't a dangerous individual’ ‘it's his duty as a Hero to know about the states of the citizens’ etc. And when he's certain that you're someone worth pursuing, someone he must pursue in fact, the excuses shift. Now, it's more about matters regarding your safety. Where do you tend to be at this time of the day? You aren't wandering around dangerous places, are you? He just has to monitor your every move, otherwise he might claw his organs out due to the sheer anxiety. It's also a bit of a competition to him. It happens unconsciously and it makes him feel prideful, to be the person that knows the most about you.

After you two have gotten entangled enough, to the point where people have begun to associate you with each other, your name and identity will begin to be replaced by his, slowly. Though this one isn't really his doing, he does end up fanning the flames indirectly. You realize a little too late that dedicating victories to you, bringing you up in almost every conversation and always trailing after your shadow had a more profound impact upon your identity than what you'd assumed.

There's the matter of your claim to your personal space as well. Physical space is one thing but your mental space will not be spared as well. After all, you didn't spare him. It's not just a matter of feeling your skin under his fingertips, or the pleasant signals that flood his brain when he gets to have his hands on you — he wants to be so in a certain radius of your being that whenever he is away, your heart will be restless, that even other people will feel as though something is wrong, you without him by your side just looks wrong.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Patience is a gamble with this man, sometimes you win, sometimes he wins, sometimes you both lose. It's like his ‘patience’ is in a constant state of superposition, it's both there and isn't there, you wouldn't know unless you probe.

What Phainon excels in is being tenacious, stubborn. Not to be mistaken with patience, but you can't be blamed if you do. If he has a clear goal in mind, he's excellent in persisting until he's achieved it. But this isn't the levelheaded path, he's sacrificing bits and chunks of himself just to keep that fire burning within him and to push forward. Self-destructive, but it gets the job done.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Never. That answer is plain and simple. At least in the cases where you somehow manage to escape or leave him, he can still comfort himself with the knowledge that you're out there somewhere and there's still a chance for him to correct the mishaps, make sure there won't be a third attempt.

But if you died? That is his singular, most dreaded nightmare come true. This is the man that when he wakes up in the middle of the night, his first instinct is to check if you're still breathing or not. Phainon has thought about how he'd cope with your departure countless times — because everything and everyone must face death and he hasn't liked even one of those hypothetical scenarios.

On the outside, he looks petrified, a statue of disbelief frozen in time. He isn't willing to accept that you're just… gone like that, he always said that Thanatos themselves would have to wrestle him if they wanted to take you away and he's going to do exactly that. He'll search the River of Souls for millions of years if necessary, he'll bring death upon Thanatos themselves if necessary, he'll do anything, anything if any grain of sand, anyone in this wretched world could promise him that it'd bring you back.

But if that isn't possible and you're just gone for good forever? Then to hell with this world, he's going to first destroy everything and then himself ; in his eyes, nothing holds value to continue existing if you're not a part of it, not the universe and certainly not him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Yes, guilt is a ghost that will never cease haunting him, even if you return his affection. Just the simplest impedimenta that he might have to use to keep you safe prick at his conscience, in moments where it's just him and his thoughts ; be it a tactful wordplay to distract you or the pinnacle of the degradation of his sanity, confinement.

But does that mean he's willing to let you go? Titans, no. Guilt is something he's accustomed to carrying, from when he left the graves of Aedes Elysiae to the prophecy that has penned down his solitary destiny. But the possibility of losing you, when he could've prevented it? That would end him for good. So, he'll linger at your feet, for as long as possible.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

A mix of his childhood and just the overall state of Amphoreus. He's already experienced the taste of losing everything that he held dear once, of having to cut down and bury the bodies of his loved ones with his own hands. The cries of the dead still echo in his ears whenever it gets too quiet. Phainon had once thought that he wouldn't be capable of harboring affection ever again. His sense of attachment had gone askew with the end of Aedes Elysiae. But truthfully, he's never stopped grieving for his home.

If Phainon really does fall in love with you, to such an intense degree moreover, that'd mean that you're truly special. It'd mean that you're capable of soothing his wounds with your presence alone, that you're capable of making him want to dream again like he used to when he was a little boy. This process, all this mind-work that goes inside Phainon doesn't happen as easily as I'm describing it.

Once Phainon becomes attached, he does so terribly, to the point he wouldn't even imagine is possible. And he doesn't want to sever this connection, this new fantasy that's empowering him to take on the mantle of World-bearing with renewed vigor. He now has someone who he wants to protect more than anything, he wants to carve that blissful future and he wants to walk into that sea of flowers at the end of the west winds with you. So naturally, he has to do anything that is required for that future to come true.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

As discussed in “Fight”, Phainon would be hurt by any act that runs contradictory to what he expects from you. He just wants to make you happy and feel safe ; screaming, crying, withdrawing from him — all of them are like harsh slaps that tell him that he's failing brilliantly in that field. The worst part is that he understands why you're behaving that way and can't fault you for it, he definitely deserves it, in fact. He should be treated worse for whatever nonsense he's been doing.

And when his attempts to calm you down with that lifeline, that he's doing it all to protect you, no longer works, what does he do? He cries. He breaks down as well. All the guilt and shame and emotional weight crushing him in an instant of unintelligible apologies drenched in tears.

The hero that always comforts others, always prioritizes others first, the man who'd forgotten how to cry in funerals, on his knees under the pressure of his feelings. Not even the most hardened heart could remain unflinching before that sight, I believe.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

I am in firm belief that Phainon would not abduct his darling. Simply because he has more options available, enough resources and connections to bind you by his side and to make it all seem like the biggest coincidence ever. His heart is always pointed to empathize with others first, this feature is even more intensified for you.

It is not to say that Phainon never has the thoughts, sometimes all he wants to do is to wrap you up in his cape and hide you away. But they're just that, thoughts that he dismisses upon realizing that you would not at all like him if he were to do that.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Phainon's biggest weakness is… you, so, exploit yourself if you want to escape his grasp I guess? But you need to be something of a master manipulator and extraordinary actor to be able to actually succeed. Phainon is by no means unaware of how much power you have over him. You could get him to do anything by pulling at one or two of his heartstrings and he'd let you use him. So, Phainon does keep his guard up a bit in that regard.

You'd need to start slow, make the transition to acquiescence seem normal so that he doesn't immediately get suspicious — making the process lengthy. At a smaller scope and to have any bygone whims met, the easiest option is a kiss. To the cheek, to the neck, to the hand or to the lips it doesn't matter. You just need to give him a kiss, make his brain short circuit and slip away in that interval or, get him to agree to whatever it is you want.

Using affection is a risky method though, since it's essentially just reinforcing an existing addiction. You'd think that you're satiating that hunger little by little, but you're merely fanning the flames by giving him a taste of the whole he could have, if he just… keeps on clinging to you. There is no guarantee for when kisses to the cheek will not do the work anymore and he will demand a higher dose. If you find yourself here, consider kissing the dreams of escaping him farewell instead.

There is something else that works, though you need to have a bit of control over words to execute it: guilt-tripping. This is something Phainon feels in ample amounts even if he seems meticulous in hiding it. Target those doubts, twist his words, throw in the tears and make sure to squeeze his heart. If you're lucky, he might just bend for good. After all, the one thing Phainon can never stand seeing is you being unhappy.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Emotionally? Yes. Which is because he is hurting tenfold and hurt people hurt others, one way or another, eventually. Physically? No. He may get carried away in moments of intimacy, leave indents of his fingertips on your skin or bite a bit too hard at times but, actively trying to inflict physical harm on you is the stuff of his nightmares.

He's not unaware of the difference in strength between you, his thoughts often wander and intrude upon his conscience. Bluntly speaking, he could snap your bones with his bare hands or do worse. At moments when paranoia bleeds into reason, staining it with thoughts of you leaving him behind and dying somewhere all alone — he muses if he should just… break your leg, so that you won't be able to leave. But as it is, his mind has expertise in sprinting down the road of overthinking.

Let's assume he did just that, but what if and Titans forbid, the house catches on fire and you have to run? What will you do then? So, these thoughts remain as intrusive fiends.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Phainon is a reverent type, through and through. From the moment the seeds of love take root in his heart, you become the centerpiece of his universe, the orbit which guides his path, the missing piece of his psyche, the factor that allows him to be more than the prophesied hero, the Deliverer or the vessel of destruction.

Your every word is scripture, every glance a blessing, every breath a miracle. Your every wish is his command, something he must see fulfilled, even at the cost of his life. A smile, for your gaze to remain ever so gentle upon him is all he asks.

Phainon has devoured a litany of texts, has learned to weave words to ensnare, captivate and make anyone's heart ache and yet, he can't put into words just how intensely he feels his love for you. It can be seen though, in the way he both dares not to cross the steps to your altar and can't help himself in the end.

Probably crawling into your ribcage, taking the place of your heart and living there would satiate him — or you could do that with him. But since neither are quite possible, he'll be content to be by your feet, or beside you (if you would allow it), his body, heart and soul all surrendered in offering.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Phainon can be a bit… masochistic in this regard. You'd think by the intensity of his feelings that he wouldn't last more than a month before he's approaching you, but he can surprisingly pine for an impressive amount of time. It's not that he wants to, it's just that he'd much rather execute that encounter he's illustrated in his head with perfection. In this pursuit, he may have attempted many times and had withdrawn last second until the events pushed him to a point where there was no backing out anymore.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He definitely has the skills to do so. But I don't think he can consciously do it. Knowing full well that nothing good will come out of crushing everything he loves about you and leaving you a shattered mess that will just hate him for eternity? Just the idea disgusts him. He wants you to keep being happy, make you happy, he wants to protect you from all the dangers of the universe and he wants you to return his love, too. The prospect of breaking your spirit runs contradictory to everything he stands for when it comes to you.

But yes, it's not something that's impossible to happen with him. He's destined to lead a turbulent existence, it's not unnatural if you end up getting caught up in that chaos and break apart. Regardless of how it happens, Phainon would never forgive himself for it.

[ven-vxn]

I have redone this art 33550336 times see you in autumn

[ven-vxn]

the great pretender

12/100

[ven-vxn]

Rainy Day

Gn!Reader, sfw, very fluffy fluff, nicknames "baby" and "sweetheart" used, sorry if Wanderer's is kinda off i wrote it at work

Tartaglia, Wanderer, Thoma

You and your boyfriend had a wonderful date planned out for the two of you. You spent all yesterday preparing the food for your little picnic date. But as you are about to head out, a loud thunder strike shakes the house. And only a few moments later, heavy rain can be heard dropping onto your roof. What to do now?

Tartaglia

Childe puts his hands on your cheeks cupping your face. It's an act that always brings you great comfort. His hands are so warm and you can't help but to feel so safe in his hold, even when it's something as small as his hands on your cheeks. He keeps a smile on his face, but not the usual one most people see him wear, rather a real smile, a smile from Ajax. "It's okay baby, i've got an idea!" Coming from a nation of snow and ice, rain is a rare sight for Tartaglia, and although it ruined your picnic plans, it's hard for him to hide the bit of excitement within him.

He rushes you to the bedroom, dressing you in a hooded coat then putting one on himself. By the time you realize his plans he's already opening the front door pulling you outside with him before you can interject. All you can do is stand in shock for a moment from the sudden coldness and wetness, but you quickly adjust and look over to Ajax. Your boyfriend is looking up into the sky, not saying a word with a wide smile on his face. He quickly turns to you running up to you, picking you up and spinning you around. An eruption of giggles escapes you as you watch him have so much fun.

He's not the only one having fun though, you're also enjoying yourself, the picnic long forgotten as the two of you stomp and splash into puddles. As you two continue to play in the rain, your shoes fill up with water and your body begins to shiver, although you barely even notice. Tartaglia does though, and of course he has to take care of his lover, so he ushers you back inside the house. Now enveloped in warmth, he brings a towel and dries you off, then himself. You both change into dry clothes and cuddle up together on the couch, listening to the rain continue to fall. Tired from your time outside, you lean your head onto his chest closing your eyes. You think you could fall asleep when-

"Achoo!"

Uh oh.

Wanderer

Scara can't help but find the little pout on your face funny. You looked like a sad little puppy, but he only finds your dismay entertaining for a short time before getting a bit irritated himself. He doesn't like seeing you upset for very long, especially if he isn't the one causing it. As you defeatedly put back the supplies for the picnic he stays quiet, racking his brain on ways to fix this little problem.

Before you get the chance to sit down, he grabs your wrist pulling you towards the front door. "C'mon.." he sighs out, his tone sounding inconvenienced, but you both know he could never actually be upset with you. He pushes you out the door but instead of you getting soaked, he's standing right next to you as he puts his arm around your waist pulling you towards him so the two of you are protected under his hat.

"Lets take a walk." He doesn't give you much of a choice as he starts to walk, bringing you along with him. You rest your head on his shoulder, the white noise of the rain and the cloudy sky relaxes you within minutes. Maybe it's okay that you couldn't do your picnic today, because it allowed for this moment with him. "We can go in a few days." He says in a quiet voice. A smile creeps onto your face hearing him try to comfort you. "Thank you Kuni." You can hear a little "hmph" of pride come from him as you both continue walking through the rain, completely dry.

Thoma

Your shoulders drop as you look out the window, a look of utter defeat and disappointment on your face. "Aw, sweetheart." Thoma comes from behind you, snaking an arm around you while taking the picnic basket from you with his other. He places it down, allowing both arms to wrap around you as he pecks you on the cheek. "Don't be sad, there's plenty of stuff to do inside as well!" His soft voice is as comforting as ever.

He spins you around so you're facing him. He makes a face acting as if he was in deep thought, before speaking again. "How about we make a pillow fort?" You laugh a bit at his suggestion. "I can't remember the last time I made one." He starts moving you towards the bedroom. "All the more reason to make one now!" You can't deny that the offer sounds quite fun and that beaming smile on his face is hard to resist.

Once in the bedroom, Thoma starts pulling the blankets off the bed, plopping them into your arms. He looks around tapping his face. "Hmm, this definitely won't be enough." He goes to the closet retrieving even more throws and sheets you didn't even know you had. He adds to the mountain of bedding you're holding before the two of you walk back to the living room. Thoma starts moving chairs around, adjusting them to what fits his standard. You then help him place the copious amount of blankets across the chairs, creating a little den for the two of you to share.

You both add some pillows inside for comfort and one final throw to lay under. You shimmy in, adjusting to get comfortable before finally laying in each others arms. Proud of your craftsmanship, you rest in his hold, the comfortable silence falling over you. With the now quiet atmosphere, it allows you both to hear the rushing of the wind and tapping of the rain against the house. You let out a content sigh, no longer upset about your little picnic.

[ven-vxn]

WHEN THEY RECEIVE A LOVE LETTER . . . ft. jing yuan, moze, sunday, anaxagoras, mydei, phainon

sfw, mutual pinning for context, unestablished relationship, anaxa receives a bento + note instead, reposted from old blog! ﾉ their reaction to receiving a love letter from you at work.

JING YUAN — jing yuan peered curiously at the envelope on his desk, it was truly a pleasing surprise but not a rare one for the general himself. reluctantly, he picked up the envelope and admired the kiss mark that sealed it shut, a pleasant fragrance lingering on it. and immediately he knew the owner of the letter. the familiar perfume that you often wore when you would stop by for a game of star chess and sometimes bump into each other on the general’s many unsuccessful escapes from the divine foresight. he smiles at the thought of seeing you again later in the day before slipping the actual letter out of the envelope and reading through. his heart racing as he starts to process the words of the letter that you had poured your heart into. his hair tempting you to thread your fingers through, how similar he is to his lion companion at home, his strength is as admirable as his care for his young prodigy. to be able to gently push aside his bangs that cover the left side of eyes and look at them like little suns. jing yuan leans back in his chair as he reads the very last and your signature of the letter. his eyes are distant and all he can think about is meeting up with you again later, so he can return the favor and spill his own feelings to you.

MOZE — despite how neutral moze’s face looks as he stares at the letter you had just placed in his hand and run off frantically after doing so, his heart and mind are speaking the same to read it with hopes of something like a confession once he opens the envelope that hides it all. he finds a quiet corner to hide just in case he’s caught off guard by your way of words written on the paper. he pulls out the letter from the envelope, his face quickly reddening when little heart-shaped confetti fall out once he unfolds the piece of paper. your handwriting is prettily scribbled on the paper as he begins to read your love letter: how his obsession of cleanliness is quite commendable, how he reminds you so much of a crow, his cheeks look almost kissable you want to bite it. surely you were teasing right? he reads over the letter again to make sure you mention this was all a joke and for fun purposes, but once again, finds himself in a blushing mess. his heart beats out of his chest as he takes a inhale and exhale to calm it down. he folds up the letter and places it back into the envelope, holding it to his heart. he’ll definitely have to see you again later.

SUNDAY — the moment sunday sits down at his desk is when he noticed a letter placed on top of it. he reaches out and brushes his thumb over the kiss that seals it shut, his name written beautifully on the top. he slips the top off and sees your name addressing who the letter was from. he smiles knowing the letter was from you, showing new interest to read the letter. your praises to him leave his heart thumping and pounding against his chest. sure, he’s received a valid amount of letters expressing admiration from his work and attraction from his looks, but he’s never received a letter like this. the more he reads, the more his blush starts to rise upon his cheekbones: how grateful you are when you see him come to work, how you could trust him with anything, how you appreciate the soft and teasing side of him. sunday’s heart beats so hard he thinks it might just burst out of his chest. the feathers in his wings slightly flutter at how flustered and red sunday looks, he turns a bit embarrassed if knowing someone would walk in and see him like this. he takes a deep breath as his heart starts to calm itself down. when he sees you again, he must properly thank you and maybe, just maybe let his feelings out.

ANAXAGORAS — anaxa’s eye point suspiciously at the bento box that sits on his desk. it was wrapped rather nicely and had a note tucked between the fabric of the wrap and the box itself. he blinks at the unfamiliar piece of paper before slipping it out of it confinements of the tied cloth and flips it over, searching for any clues of it’s purpose on his desk. he reads the first words before it clicks that you were the owner of the note. you’re the only person who he let call him ‘anaxa’, and the only one who’s brave enough to do so. he sighs at the word you had chosen to call him and swears he popped a vein when he hears your voice echo it in his mind. he pursues to read your note and almost immediately, he blushes. amusement slowly fading but blush quickly rising as he reads how much you admire his knowledge, how his eyes are the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, his humor sending your arms flying with laughter. there’s a tenderness in your words, one that slips beneath his skin before he can brace against it, like how you wish to kiss his pain and frustration away. he brings a hand through his hair, lips parted and the blush creeping traitorously high on his cheekbones. “you ridiculous little star-chosen fool.” he quietly mutters, before placing the note aside — far from the cluttered mess.

MYDEI — mydei has many admirers, both women and men. so he wasn’t all that surprised when he finds yet another letter given to him by a fellow soldier. he decides to sit on a nearby cushion as his curiosity has strangely plagued his mind and something in the letter seemed rather different than the others he’s been given. he thumbs it open from the wax seal and rose petals immediately fall down to the floor. tempted, mydei thinks to discard it from how similar it was to all the other admirations he’s received, but his expression grows a rare look of surprise once he reads the first words of the letter. it was the handwriting he recognized all too well; the one that belonged to you. his eyes dart down to the signature and no doubt, it was your’s. mydei hesitantly begins to read your letter, his heart starting to thumb harder and harder the more he reads on: how you feel safest when he’s around, your admiration and jealousy with his relationship with the children that he always plays with, his gentle care despite scolding your mindless actions (it was just a scrape!). how he’s more than just a crowned prince, warrior, ‘the undying’ — because he’s just ‘mydei’ in your eyes. mydei brings a hand to his racing heart, suddenly feeling feverish. he reads your name again at the bottom, and for once, he doesn’t know what to do with the warmth blooming in his chest.

PHAINON — it was no surprise that phainon acted like a joyful pup and lovesick fool whenever he found out you had left a little something for him on his desk. his eyes brighten and twinkle like stars when it lands on the slightly crumbled letter that rests on top his stacks of books, sealed with a heart-shaped molded stamp. your letters were always so heartfelt and friendly, with a bit of tease. they all were the highlight of his day, so he didn’t expect much more than a ‘i hope work goes well!’ for today’s letter. he walked over and gently picked it, and even more gently pealed the letter open without ruining the wax seal that sealed it all together. phainon’s heart thumped hard against his chest as his eyes darted left to right to left to right while reading the letter, his heart threatening to escape through his ribs. cheeks are tinted red and lips are twitching by the time phainon reaches the end of your love letter: you expressed how much his presence means to you, how charming he is, how he was almost sunshine in human form, how the air felt so much lighter with him around. his thumb tracing over the “i love you” and mind racing uncontrollably. he read it over a few times until it was all he could think about. titans, he hated you with so much love and adoration.

[ven-vxn]

En otras noticias hyv decidió darme el personaje cryo equivocado (。・_・。)ノ

75 tiradas para perder el 50/50... (*゜▽゜)_

[ven-vxn]

Ante todo pronóstico (universidad consumiendo mi tiempo) logre sacar la skin del niño 😭😭😭😭

Estoy tan feliz de poder haberla sacado 🙂‍↕️🫶🏻

[ven-vxn]

Arthur Conan Doyle and Harrison Gray 🫶

[ven-vxn]

pre-relationship stage with them

characters - Gepard, Aventurine notes- gn!reader, pining, light angst but mostly fluffy, a bit of hurt/comfort. I love blonde preservation men okay. no beta we die like the economy also this was written before 2.1 but I still think I kinda nailed it

Gepard

Poor poor Geppie.

He pines so much. Treats his love for you like a tender flower. His feelings for you is something so precious to him, he's happy to simply be in love with a person like yourself.

I feel like this poor man willd try so much to do everything for you without giving away how deeply he cares and how intense his feelings are.

"Aw, lil' Geppie, you care about y/n so much!"

"I- I do not. I mean, of course I do! But- There's nothing surprising about it. After all, it's my duty as a Captain to care about every citizen. And, of course, it's my duty as a friend to care about y/n.

Sure, Gepard. Sure.

He would never say something like this to your face though. After all, he simply can't lie to you.

Oh but how he adores you. His face literally lights up when he sees you, the most gentle smile blooms on his face when he watches you doing even the most trivial task.

Tries to act like his usual self around you but it's pretty evident to everyone that you're his weak spot.

Would gently scold you if you would ever put yourself in danger or break any rules.

If you get seriously hurt, would actually lose his mind. Would blame himself even if the situation has nothing to do with him. Beats himself up, asks for your forgiveness and does his best to help you.

Despite the popular belief that he would prioritize his work over his beloved, I don't think it's true. Sure, he takes his duties seriously, but he would always find time for you. Would make sure to see you at least two times a weak, would answer your texts and calls. If you need him, would certainly be right by your side. Even if it means he would have to work overtime later.

Tease him a bit and he's all red. Doesn't try to stop you though, secretly adores your attention.

Would be oblivious to the fact that you like him back. Like. Really dense about it.

He's just so used to giving, to protecting, he simply doesn't expect anything in return. He has silently accepted the fact that you may never love him back, but he will be there for you regardless of it, no matter what.

Plus, he feels like he may not be the one for you. Like you need someone who doesn't have to constantly put their life in danger, who can always be by your side, who won't break your heart. Because he's painfully aware that each fight may actually be his last. That he may not come back to you.

Speaking of that. He would make sure to say a proper goodbye to you before every battle or expedition. Nothing too sappy or depressing, he doesn't want to make you worry, after all. Would probably tell you to take care of yourself, to sleep well and to eat healthy food lol. He really just wants to make sure that he got to see you before heading straight into the battle.

If you're a Silvermane guard as well, would restrict himself even more, not wanting to use his position or to be pushy. However, would still be worried sick, even more so. Would still talk to you before every battle, asking almost begging you to be careful.

Loves giving you head pats.

Generally the goodest boy. Just make sure to make the first move because otherwise he would be satisfied with just being your loyal puppy.

Aventurine

Good lord.

This man is such a mess.

Be ready for a mindfuck but not because he's manipulative towards you or something like that but because there's so many layers of trauma in him.

You have to be patient with him okay.

I feel like pre-relationship stage would be so confusing to him. He had flings in the past, okay? Short ones, meaningless. Something to distress, to feel another person's touch, to feel some sort of connection, no matter how shallow it is. He knew he uses those people and that those people use him in return. Not once he asked them to be gentle or caring.

But with you it's so different. Doesn't matter if your relationship started sexually and developed into something more or if it was mostly platonic/slow since the beginning. He still feels something. And he's not sure if he likes it.

Sometimes it feels so good to be seen, to be addressed as a person, not just as a tool. But sometimes it scares him. After all, this man hasn't been vulnerable with anyone for a long, long time.

I'm sorry but I feel like he would try to pull away from you a bit after realizing how much you actually mean to him.

Oh but he will crumble if you reach out to him, okay? He simply can't ditch you like that, not when you see him for him and want him for him.

Even if it's scary.

Would slowly relax around you. Don't expect him to open up easily but still, the more time you spend together, the more his cocky mask will slip away.

Will randomly and out of the blue tell you small details about his past. You two may walk down the street together and he will see something that reminds him of Sigonia so he will share this memory with you.

It may be the smallest thing but it means a lot to him that you listen. Even this tiny moments of vulnerability are hard for him.

On the more positive note, he's so fun to be around. Would tease you and cling to you all of the time. If you tease him back, he would pretend to be offended but would actually enjoy the playful banter a lot.

Just don't tease him too much about him becoming more and more clingy with each passing day.

Spoils you rotten. New clothes, jewelry, watches, shoes, anything you may want or need. He still can't quite get rid of this idea that you have to be convenient for someone to be valuable. It's not like he's trying to buy your love but... Maybe subconsciously he does. Once again, be patient. This man is so used to the fact that all of his alliances are build on mutual benefit that it's still hard to accept that you're really here for him.

Spoiler even when he will feel more stable in your relationship and his mindset will turn more healthy, gift giving will still remain one of his love languages.

Just like Gepard, would care greatly about your safety. He may be careless about his own life but never with yours.

Loves, loves, loves physical contact. As I said before, gets very clingy, putting his arm over your shoulder or tugging on your sleeve. If he's feeling down, would crawl to you side and subtly brush his shoulder against yours or lean to your side. He may still have his confident smile but those small gestures show that he wants you to be the one holding him this time.

Invades your personal space a lot actually. Texts you constantly too lmao.

LOVES SILLY NICKNAMES. Would call you his dearest darling in the sweetest voice during the most inappropriate time and then laugh at your reaction. Would settle for something more casual like "baby" when he's not trying to be a pain in the ass. Still tries to play it off as something teasing. Deep down yearns to call you this without having to pretend that this is just a playful banter between two friends.

Oh and he would dance around the topic of dating, throwing hints but never having the courage to ask openly. So good luck with him.

[ven-vxn]

mitsuhide akechi. rb if you agree

[ven-vxn]

OK SOLISTEN. LISTEN UP. Mitsuhide. that is all. thanks for your attention <3

[ven-vxn]

Hello! Recent follower but long time fan of your work. I adore how introspective you are with writing characters and how you tend to write the darling/reader, its a very refreshing take on yandere content.

On that note, I was curious if you had any insight or thoughts on how yandere!Aventurine would handle a Darling that rejects his advances, not from a place of distrust but a place of insecurities? Like I imagine it would be entirely possible for someone who is quite capable or self-assured to become overwhelmed by the glamor and brilliance that Aventurine maintains for his carefully crafted facade, esp if its directed at them with romantic intent.

What could you have to offer someone like Aventurine, a man who seemingly has everything he could ever desire? In perspective, it would be extremely humbling and perhaps make Darling feel self-conscious upon consideration, leading them to politely turn down Aventurine's advances and affections in the sake of self-preservation.

yan! aventurine x insecure! gn! reader

wc: 633 cw: yandere themes - obsessive behavior, stalking. a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i'm so sorry i'm answering it so late, but i'm very grateful for your compliments and your ask :> (this got a little suggestive at the very end, hope that's alright!)

Aventurine is incredibly adept at reading people, which makes this situation quite frustrating for him. You’ve always come across as someone secure in your identity—it’s clear in the way you carry yourself, in the way your brilliance takes up the entire room, an outward reflection of the completeness of your character. And he latched onto that immediately, holding the gem that is your personality up and carefully studying each refraction of light, committing the patterns to memory. He’d played his cards just right with you, and had no problem luring you in and getting you right where he wanted you.

So, then, why are you rejecting him? 

Things had been going so well between you two, up until he began flirting with you more openly and gifting you things he knew you wanted, but were out of your budget. He made sure not to lovebomb, of course—it would scare off someone like you, and he couldn’t have that—and he knew that you hadn’t yet discovered his… rather underhanded methods of learning everything about you. 

He knows you, everything has gone perfectly for him, and yet here you are, turning him away.

You’re being painfully sweet about it, too, in the way that you always are, reassuring him in a soft voice that it’s nothing he did, you just don’t think you’re ready for a relationship. You say this, but he can see it in your eyes, see that you want him, too, but for some reason, you’re hesitating. You’re scared.

From your perspective, it’s quite simple, really: Aventurine can do better, and he deserves better, too. He’s an extremely high-ranking member of the IPC, with an unfathomable amount of wealth to his name—what could you possibly offer him? 

You’ve heard countless stories of high-ranking IPC officials using marriage as yet another tool at their disposal, so his advances toward you leave you confused and bewildered. You’re a mere civilian who lives in the capital city of one of the planets he’s been assigned to watch over. You don’t come from wealth or political power, so what does he want from you? 

Not to mention all the risk that would come from being romantically involved with him—what if one of the IPC’s enemies came after you as a means to get him? You do like your head where it is, attached to your neck, and your own safety aside, you don’t like the idea of being seen as Aventurine’s weakness, something that would hold him back.

It takes an incredible amount of willpower for him to not spiral. No, he’s worked too hard for this, and he can’t risk messing things up by abducting you. It would ruin the feelings you so clearly reciprocate, yet refuse to act on, for some reason.

It’s not difficult to pay someone to pull your messaging history and get it cloned to his own device. After digging through conversations with some of your friends, your insecurities are made clear to him, and with them, your reason for rejecting him.

Oh, how he wishes he could coo at you and pull you into a reassuring hug. You’re worried about the fact that you don’t add value to his position in any way? How silly, that’s exactly why he wants you. You’re real, and once you overcome this trivial worry, you’ll be entirely his—not the pawn of some government body, not the IPC’s, but his alone.

No matter—it’s a minor setback. He’ll just have to work harder at showing you just how much he loves you, and that there aren’t any strings attached. His devotion will get through to you one way or another, whether it’s from honey words dripping off his tongue, or from loving every inch of your body with his mouth until you can’t take it anymore.

[ven-vxn]

Phainon — Meant to Be Yours

cw: royal knight!phainon au, fem!princess!reader, violence but not very detailed, usual shan stuff lol

went into amphoreus not caring about anyone, went out loving the cute golden retriever man. also, i've been hyperfixated on epic the musical lately, so i may or may not have been inspired by odysseus in the ithaca saga for some parts here lol

In the whispering winds of fate, it was always said karma had a way of catching up with you—silent, inevitable, like shadow hot on your heels. In a world that spins in circles, our deeds reverberate and circle back, a reminder that what goes around comes around.

So, it was never a surprise, not really, when your father—the king, draped in the shadows of corruption and tyranny—was torn from his throne in a storm of blood and fury, undone by the very hands he once crushed beneath his own. The storm of revolution, fueled by the flames of injustice and the cries of the downtrodden, descended upon the castle walls like a vengeful deity, casting the king from his lofty throne into the harsh reality of his own making.

In the unforgiving tides of change, the pendulum of justice swung without regard for innocence or guilt, and revolution—in all its fury—can easily blind you with its smoke. You never stood by your father’s cruelty; every protest smothered beneath his iron will, your voice swallowed beneath the weight of his crown. Yet, to the eyes of the enraged masses, you bore his blood, wore his sins like a second skin.

And so, you too, must burn.

But he wouldn't let them.

Your escape dissolved into a blur in your mind; Screams tearing through the air, a sea of crimson rage, and his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. In the other, his sword sang death, striking down anyone who dared raise a hand against his liege. His white hair caught the glow of the mobs' torches, almost golden in their flickering light. His blue eyes, usually so gentle, were now steel-cold with purpose. His once-pristine armor streaked with blood, icy to the touch, but his hand... his hand wrapped around yours is....

Warm.

Then, it hit you all at once.

The sudden, jarring shift from chaos to stillness.

One moment, the world was fire and fury—voices raised in furious chants, torches blazing, the glint of sharpened weapons amidst the mob.

The next, silence.

Heavy, almost sacred. The kind that presses into your ears like cotton, makes your breath sound too loud. The forest wrapped around you like a blanket soaked in earth and rain, grounding and unreal all at once.

And then—him.

A pair of blue eyes, wide and searching, locked onto you. Worry etched into every line of his face. Not just concern, something more akin to fear. Like he'd just watched you disappear, and wasn’t sure if you were really back.

"Your Highness?" Phainon’s voice breaks the quiet, low and cautious, like he’s afraid even the sound might shatter you. He doesn't move closer, just watches, eyes flicking over the slight tremble in your hands, the way your breath stutters like your body hasn’t quite remembered how to breathe in peace.

You’re pale, shaken, and at the sound of his voice, as quiet as it was, you finally look at him. No longer through him, but at him.

He takes a cautious step forward, each movement measured like he’s approaching a wounded creature, because in some ways, he is. You’re already so close to unraveling, and the last thing he wants is to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

There was no point in asking how you were. It was written all over you; in the tight set of your shoulders, the haunted glaze still clinging to your eyes, the way you swayed slightly, like your legs weren’t entirely convinced they could keep holding you up.

So instead, he does what Phainon always does—chooses gentleness.

"May I carry you?" he asks quietly, his voice a breath softer than the rustle of the leaves around you. He doesn't reach for you, doesn't presume. He has never touched you without your explicit permission. That’s just who Phainon is. Always waiting, always asking.

Always yours, for as long as you'll have him.

"We need to find shelter for the night," he adds, glancing around the thick trees, the canopy swallowing what little light remains. "We’ll be safer here than anywhere else in the kingdom.”

You don’t say anything—just stare at him, eyes wide and unreadable, like you're still somewhere between this moment and the last. But then, slowly, your head moves in a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It’s enough.

Phainon hesitates for just a breath longer, searching your face one last time for any sign of protest. When he finds none, he steps closer and carefully lifts you into his arms. You don’t resist. You don’t flinch. You just let him. He holds you like you’re made of glass and memory, something fragile, something precious. Like a wounded creature he’s afraid to hurt more than the world already has. His arms are steady, though. Warm. Grounding.

"With my honor as a knight," he murmurs, barely above a whisper, his breath brushing against your hair, "I’ll protect you."

And with that promise hanging between you, he carries you deeper into the woods, away from the flames, the shouting, the wreckage of a day that nearly stole everything. Searching for somewhere—anywhere—you can finally rest.

You didn’t know how long he walked, only that the rhythm of his footsteps and the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into a kind of daze. Time slipped sideways, minutes, hours, you couldn't say. You barely registered the way his arms tensed, his body instinctively bracing at the distant sound of hooves pounding against earth.

But you did notice when he began to lower you, gently, beneath the rough arch of a shallow cave. The cool stone met your back, and suddenly the thought of him letting go was unbearable. Your hands clung to the fabric of his cloak, your fingers trembling, eyes searching his like they could stop him from leaving.

He paused. Saw the silent plea in your gaze.

"Stay here," he whispered, his voice warm and low, as if it could wrap around you like a second cloak. His eyes held yours—steady, unwavering, like they always had. "I’ll be back."

Phainon stepped out of the cave, his movements measured, deliberate, planting himself firmly between the riders and the one thing he would not let them take, the shadows of the cave behind him concealing you. There was no fear in his eyes, only steel. A cold, quiet confidence etched into every line of his face.

"I’d like to believe no good men would pursue the royal heir to do her harm," he said, voice calm, almost conversational.

The riders stared him down, eyes narrowing, hands tightening around the hilts of their weapons. Their silence said everything, fury simmered behind their eyes—righteous, bitter. The kind that doesn’t listen. They were revolutionaries, that much was clear.

The one at the front swung down from his saddle, his boots hit the earth with a thud, knuckles bone-white, clutching around his weapon. 

"Step aside," he commanded. "The princess has to pay for her father’s crimes."

Phainon didn’t move.

"She’s done nothing wrong," he said quietly, the edge in his voice sharp enough to cut. "You’d punish a girl for her father’s sins?"

One of the other riders let out a bitter laugh. Disgust curled his lip.

"Not her mistake? That bastard’s blood runs in her veins. She is part of the throne. And you.." he spat, full of scorn. "What has become of you, Phainon? Some fallen knight guarding the tyrant’s daughter? You’d betray us? Turn your sword against your own people?"

Phainon didn’t blink.

"If protecting the innocent is treason," he said, "then yes, I'll proudly be a traitor."

His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

"Kill her father. Burn the palace to ash. Do what you will, if that’s what your justice demands... but you will not lay a hand on her."

Silence followed. Heavy. Suffocating. The forest itself seemed to still, the only sound the restless whisper of leaves caught in the wind.

The riders didn’t respond, but they didn’t have to. Their expressions spoke volumes—feral and cold, eyes flicking between each other, weighing the cost of moving forward.

Because they knew who he was.

Phainon. The perfect warrior. The man whose blade had never faltered.

And here he stood, sword unsheathed not for the king or the palace…

But for the fallen princess.

"This is how you defend your people, knight?!"

The rider at the front steps forward, fury distorting his features into something near feral. His eyes burned with a hate that had nothing to do with justice.

"You’d betray us, betray your oath, betray this kingdom, and the country you swore to protect… for some pampered little princess?!"

Something in Phainon’s expression shifts. The air grows colder around him, the atmosphere dense with a sudden, cutting stillness. Gone is the composed mask he always wears; what replaces it is anger, sharp and honed like the edge of his blade. His gaze narrowed, sharpened into something unforgiving.

"Don’t you dare pretend this is for the country’s sake," he said, voice low and laced with venom. "You’re not here for justice. You’re here for blood. You’re no different than the king you claim to hate."

The words land like a slap. The other riders stiffened, anger radiating off them in pulsing waves, but it was their leader who reacted first. 

"Don’t you dare compare us to that bastard. We’re trying to fix what he ruined. We’re trying to build something better." His sneer deepens, lips curling in disgust.

Phainon took a step forward, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact.

"I don’t care what you're trying to do," he said, voice quiet, but sharp enough to cut. "Do what you must. Raise your banners. Burn the city. I don’t care..."

"...But you will not harm my liege."

The leader lets out a laugh, dry and mocking, tinged with disbelief.

"Your liege?" he spat. "She’s the tyrant’s spawn. And you, great knight? You've been reduced to a loyal lapdog, clinging to a dead order."

Phainon’s grip on his sword tightened, knuckles paling, the cold in his eyes enough to send out a warning for the rider to seize his comments.

"Watch your mouth," he says darkly. "I don’t care what your grievances are with her father. She is not him. And I will not let her suffer for his sins."

"She’s his heir," The leader snarled. "She’ll turn out just the same. She’ll sit on the same throne, make the same decisions, spill the same blood… And a traitor like you will be right there at her feet, worshiping her like a good little mutt."

"You don’t know a thing about her." Phainon snaps, "She’s nothing like her father. She’s been silenced, like a doll on display, dressed up and paraded around as a symbol. If you think she’ll become a tyrant, you’re blind."

"Gods, don't tell me you've fallen for her?" The leader’s expression twisted, ugly and mocking.  "You really think she gives a damn about you?"

"Of course not," Phainon replies swiftly, flatly. "That doesn't matter."

The leader just laughs again, louder this time, leaning into the sound like it shields him from the weight of Phainon’s glare. His smirk grows wide, sharp, vicious.

"Then why, oh why, are you risking your life for her, hmm?" The leader’s voice drips with mockery, his posture relaxed, his amusement dripping into every word that slips past his lips.

"What do you get for defending the princess? Her favor? A smile, perhaps? Or something better…" He grins, teeth flashing. "Like her body?"

Something snaps.

In a blink, Phainon closes the distance—no hesitation, no warning. One hand fisting the leader’s collar, the other drawing his sword with a metallic hiss. He slams the man hard against the nearest tree, bark cracking under the force, the blade pressed to the vulnerable skin of his throat.

"Keep your tongue in check." Phainon’s voice is barely a voice at all, more like a growl ripped from deep in his chest. "Don’t you dare speak of her like that. Not another word. Do you hear me?"

But the leader only grins wider, unshaken even with a blade to his throat. In fact, he seems to revel in it.

"You protect a woman who’d throw you to the wolves the moment it served her," he spits out, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You think you matter to her? You’re nothing. Just a pawn she’ll sacrifice to save herself."

"I’m not protecting just any woman." Phainon sneers, a rare sight for the kind knight. "I protect my liege. I don’t give a damn if she values my life or not. That’s not the point. You speak of things you don’t understand."

He presses the sword harder against the man’s throat, but still, the man smiles.

"You've been blinded," The man hisses, smirking like a man with nothing left to lose. "She doesn’t care about anything but herself. Just like her father. A pampered, selfish princess."

He leans forward just enough for his words to feel like poison he’s trying to inject right into Phainon’s veins. 

"And you? You’ve doomed yourself for her. She’ll stab you in the back the second her life’s on the line. Mark my words."

Phainon doesn’t flinch. 

"You don’t know her."

Phainon's words are quiet. More breath than voice, like a warning carried in the wind. He presses the blade closer. The tip bites skin. A thin bead of crimson wells up where the blade meets the skin of the leader’s throat.

"And I’ll cut down every last fool who dares to speak of her that way."

And then… he does.

One swift motion. 

Clean. 

Precise.

The forest falls silent.

The only sound is the soft thump of a body hitting the leaves crumpled on the ground.

A moment later, the man’s head rolls across the ground, eyes wide with the last expression he ever wore; that twisted smile, frozen in time.

None of them move.

Phainon stands over the body, sword slick with crimson, breath slow and steady.

No triumph. 

No rage.

Just duty.

The other riders could only stare, stunned into silence, eyes darting between their leader’s lifeless, decapitated body and the knight who stood above it. Phainon remained still, breath heavy, blade lowered but still slick with blood. 

"You… y-you killed him…" one of them whispered, the words cracking with disbelief.

Phainon didn’t even blink. 

"I did."

His words hung in the air.

The riders exchanged nervous glances, shifting in place. One man’s hand trembled as it hovered near his blade. Another backed toward the horses.

"You’re a murderer," one of them dared to say.

Phainon’s head turned slowly in the speaker’s direction, his eyes sharp and full of disdain.

"I am a knight."

He took a single step forward, slow, steady, like he had all the time in the world.

"And you..." He swept his gaze across them.

Chaos nearly erupted. One man lunged for their fallen leader’s sword. Another tried to mount a horse that reared up and shrieked in fear. Hooves thundered against the forest floor, the horses stamping nervously, catching the scent of blood. The rest froze in place, unsure whether to fight or flee.

Still, Phainon didn’t move. He simply watched. Detached. Unbothered. Like he was watching children flail through a game they didn’t understand.

Then, he spoke again. Calm, quiet, and chilling.

"None of you are going anywhere."

The words cut through the rising noise like a blade. And just like that, everything stopped. Horses snorted, pawing the ground nervously. The riders froze mid-movement, caught between instinct and dread. No one moved. No one dared breathe.

"Y-you… you’re going to kill us too? Just like him?" One of them, voice trembling, forced himself to speak.

Phainon’s eyes flicked to the corpse at his feet, then slowly back to the man.

"It’s nothing personal."

His voice was calm. Too calm.

"But as long as any of you breathe, my liege remains in danger."

Another step forward.

The air grew heavier. 

"We’re falling back," someone said quickly, hands half-raised, as if they could bargain their way out. "Our leader’s gone… we won’t hurt Her Highness anymore,"

But it was already too late.

Phainon gave no reply because the time for words had ended.

The forest was filled with the sound of quick, brutal justice. Thuds of bodies hitting the earth, gasps cut short, steel slicing through flesh. Phainon moved like death made flesh—silent, unstoppable, precise.

When it was over, the woods were quiet again.

Only he remained standing.

Him and the horses.

Phainon stood among the fallen, sword in hand, his breath steady once more. He wiped the blood from his blade on the tunic of one of the fallen men, then he turned back toward the cave, toward the only person who mattered.

Back to his liege.

You didn't say anything when his gloved hand appeared in your vision again. You didn’t flinch at the crimson streaks staining his armor, didn’t ask about the blood still clinging to his sleeve. You didn’t have to. The stench of iron lingered in the air, faint but unmistakable. And still, he looked at you with utmost gentleness.

"Let’s keep going, Your Highness," he said, voice soft and warm again, like it hadn’t just spoken death into existence. He smiled, gentle and careful, as if that alone could soothe the storm in your heart, your mind.

And of course, you took his hand.

Neither of you spoke as he guided you deeper into the forest, looking for somewhere to stay the night. His grip is steady, his pace measured. The silence between you was no longer heavy, just there. Present. Like a companion rather than a burden. The first time the silence was broken was when the trees thinned and a clearing revealed itself, a meadow bathed in moonlight. Not ideal for rest, but safe enough for a fire. The tree line was distant enough not to catch if the flames rose too high.

Phainon didn’t hesitate.

He swiftly went to work, gathering timber and stacking firewood, his movements practiced, and you watched confusedly as somehow, someway, he coaxed a spark into a flicker, then into a steady flame—a pleasant warmth against the biting cold of the night, casting a golden light against his blood-slicked armor and you tried not to look too closely.

He turned toward you, eyes softening again.

"Please," he said gently, gesturing toward a nearby rock. "Have a seat, Your Highness."

The rock was jagged, uninviting, but it was better than the ground. And somehow, the offer didn’t feel like an order. It felt like kindness, one born out of genuine concern.

You sat.

Phainon got down on his knees before you, slow and deliberate, the firelight casting golden shadows across his face, his eyes meeting yours, those bright, steady blues searching for something, asking without words. For what, you weren't sure, but you trusted him enough to give him a small nod.

As you did, he reached for the hem of your dress, lifting it just enough to expose your feet, still in those heels. He handled them like something sacred, fingers brushing delicately over the worn straps as he undid the fastenings around your ankles. Then, the shoes slipped off with barely a sound.

A quiet sigh escaped him as he took in the damage: raw, red skin and blisters blooming along your soles. His expression twisted into something pained, like it physically hurt him to look.

"You should’ve told me," he murmured, the words barely louder than the crackle of the fire. His brow furrowed, soft and earnest, looking at you akin to a puppy kicked by its owner. "I would’ve carried you."

"It’s fine, really." You shook your head gently, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "You've already done enough. I didn’t want to ask more of you."

"It's my duty to care for the princess."

"And I'm no longer one."

"You'll always be a princess."

You pause at his response, glancing to meet his eyes as he met yours with unwavering devotion, no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his features.

"For as long as I live," He added, "You'll always be a princess to me."

The silence that followed was heavy, not uncomfortable, but weighty, like something unsaid hung in the air between you. You had to look away, unable to hold the intensity of his stare, you let your gaze drift back to the fire, its flickering light dancing across the clearing like it, too, was trying to avoid the weight between you.

Behind the veil of quiet, you heard the soft clatter of metal as Phainon shed his armor. Piece by piece, it hit the ground with dull thuds, leaving him in the worn fabric beneath. Then came the rip of cloth, sharp in the still night, and you realized he was tearing his shirt.

He didn’t say a word.

Just reached for your feet again, gently cradling them in his hands as he wrapped the makeshift bandages around the blistered skin, his touch impossibly careful.

"Phainon." You said his name softly, as he continued his current task.

"Why didn't you join them? Why didn't you kill me?"

That made his hands still.

His gaze flicked up to your face, searching. He was quiet for a beat, before responding.

"Killing you is never an option." Was his simple, yet blunt response. "I could never do such a thing to you."

You frowned, unable to make sense of it.

"But… of all people, you have the most reason in the kingdom to drive your sword through my chest," you murmured, "The only thing standing between you and your freedom is me. You don’t have to do this. Any of this."

There's the slightest hint of a sad smile on his face, chuckling softly at your words, but there's no humor in the sound.

"I don't 'have' to do anything, princess. I choose to protect you of my own free will." His eyes softened.

"But your oath-" You opened your mouth to protest, to remind him of his oath, of duty, of his supposed loyalty to the people.

"Was to you." He cut you off, quiet but firm. "Not to the King. Not to the throne, not the palace or its people."

He paused, voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

"My oath has always been to you."

You paused at his words, trying to make sense of them. His loyalty… his devotion... it didn’t make sense. Not in a world that had taken so much from both of you.

"You’re the son of my father’s personal knight. From the moment you were born, you were shackled to me." Your voice softened further. "Our births are only months apart. That wasn’t a coincidence."

Phainon didn’t interrupt. He let you speak, his hands still and steady at your ankle.

"You were forced to train and to be my shadow since we were children, don't you ever wish to be free?"

"Forced?" he repeated softly with a smile, almost amused. "I’ve never been forced to do anything, princess."

"But you were." You looked at him fully now, your brows furrowed. "Just like your father before you. And his before him... and if the system hadn’t been dismantled… your children would’ve been bound to mine. The cycle would’ve never ended."

There was a long beat before he spoke again.

"My family never regretted our duty. We’ve protected every heir of your bloodline with our lives," he said, his voice quiet but sure. "And I’ll do the same for you."

Then something in him shifted. His features softened, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth—gentle, knowing.

"But... you’re wrong about one thing." He looked at you with a strange tenderness in his eyes.

You blinked, caught off-guard by the warmth in his voice. He didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink.

"My children...." he said slowly, voice laced with something unreadable, "...won’t be doing the same for yours."

"What do you mean?"

But all you got in return was that smile. That quiet, secret-laced smile, like he was tucking something important behind his tongue. He gave your ankle a gentle squeeze. Comforting. Familiar.

"You’ll understand later," he murmured, voice almost lulling.

"Don’t push yourself, Your Highness," he said softly, skillfully shifting the topic. "We’ve got a long journey ahead tomorrow."

He stood, gathered the remnants of his torn shirt, and moved to tend the fire again, like he hadn’t just shaken your world with a few quiet words.

"I'll try..." you murmured, your voice tinged with hesitation, your eyes fixed on his back as he knelt by the fire, tending to the flames with care, keeping it alive to somehow keep the coldness of the night at bay.

"Thank you... for everything."

Phainon glanced over his shoulder at you. Your weariness was plain on your face, carved into the way your body sagged slightly under the weight of the day.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” His tone was quiet, like it always was, but beneath it was a quiet warmth that never seemed to leave whenever he spoke to you. “Get some sleep, princess.”

You didn’t protest again.

Despite the jagged rock beneath you, despite the ache in your limbs and the open sky above, it didn’t take long for sleep to claim you. The day had wrung you dry—body, heart, and mind—and the sound of the crackling fire, the distant rustle of trees, and Phainon’s steady presence nearby became the lullaby that finally allowed your guard to fall.

It wasn't until your breathing had evened out, deep in sleep, that Phainon stood up from the fire. The flickering glow cast long shadows across the clearing as he moved, silent as a ghost, towards you. He crouched beside you, eyes tracing your features like he was memorizing every curve, every eyelash. His fingers reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face with a gentleness that didn’t match the crimson stains still dried against his skin.

"My kids being the knights of yours?" He muses, a quiet laugh curling at the edge of his lips. "Don't be ridiculous... my kids wouldn't be doing the same for yours..."

"Because my kids will be yours too, princess."

His expression stayed soft, but there was something darker flickering beneath it—a quiet hunger, possession cloaked in tenderness. His hand moved again, hooking a single lock of your hair around his finger, bringing it close to his face. He breathed in, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, as though the scent alone grounded him, drawing it in like a man savoring something he believed— no, he knew belonged to him.

“Yours,” he whispered, “You hear me?”

The wind rustled gently through the trees, carrying his words into the night, where they vanished like smoke with no one else to hear them but himself. He stayed like that for a moment, eyes locked on your sleeping face, watching the faint shifts of your breath, the flutter of your lashes. You looked peaceful. Vulnerable.

"I'm sorry for what happened, princess. But you understand, don't you?" He questions you quietly, as if you could hear him, still making sure his voice is quiet, so as to not wake you.

"Your father was a tyrant, a dictator..." He murmurs, his fingers moving to caress your cheek, watching as you stirred faintly under his touch, but did not wake, "He was going to marry you off to someone else."

"Surely, you understand why I urged people and started the revolution, don't you?"

His fingers trail lightly down your cheek, pausing at your lips, his breath hitching ever so slightly as his thumb grazes over the soft curve of your mouth. He exhales shakily, as though even this contact is almost too much.

"The only reason I was born was to be yours,” he whispers, a quiet conviction in his tone. “And thus, you, in turn, have always been mine. Law of equivalent exchange.”

His voice is low, fond, but there’s an undercurrent of something far heavier—something dangerous—coiling just beneath. He inhales sharply, as if steadying himself, and glances away from your lips like a sinner resisting temptation.

"That old man never should’ve tried to interfere," he adds, almost as an afterthought, his jaw tensing like the memory alone is enough to reignite his fury—the same fury that led to your father's downfall.

His finger lingers against your lips, then shifts, trailing down to hover just over your abdomen, his eyes now fixed there, unblinking. The soft rise and fall of your breathing beneath the fabric of your dress seems to hold him captive.

"Once all of this dies down.." he murmurs, more to himself than to you, "I’ll take you somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one knows your name. A little house, tucked away from the world… where you’ll be safe. And then—"

His breath hitches again, this time heavier, filled with desire.

"Then I’ll give you my children. As many as you want."

His gaze darkens as it lingers on your stomach, and his lashes lower as he exhales through his nose, eyes fluttering closed like he can already see the future blooming there. His future. Your future. Your shared future.

"I’ve waited my whole life," he breathes, almost dreamlike. "And now you look at me like I’m your savior...."

There’s a pause, still heavy, and then his eyes open again, trained solely on your face. His expression softens at the sight of your sleeping features.

"It’s only a matter of time," he says softly. "Just a few more years... or months, if I’m lucky."

His thumb traces the corner of your mouth again, delicate and adoring.

"Right, princess?"

A soft chuckle escapes him, warm and hushed and laced with something that doesn’t quite sound sane.

"You don't need the palace, the crown, the throne.... I'm already here. I am all that you need." He murmurs, fully believing his own words.

"You're mine." He breathes out, a silent declaration with only the stars above as his witness.

"You will be mine."

-

prequel!

[ven-vxn]

i will not lie, friends in my phone, i have been imagining affection from time to time

[ven-vxn]

The Astral Express (Family) 🥺🥺

By themselves!

Extra trash sibs duo bc why not lol