#mcs.hsr

NOTES: only like half edited/proofread cause i wrote this past midnight + i just wanted to post it in case motivation divorces me again AAAAA. also i think about the below image religiously. idk who decided to put him in this fit but i am forever in their debt.

But anyway, my mind keeps coming back to this image, specifically that stupid freaking tie around his neck.

Imagine OFFICE WORKER! PHAINON who will not stop pestering the jaded coworker who's infamous for being a loner sitting a few cubicles away from him.

You don't think you could be any more different; while he spent the first few days trying to get to know everyone on the floor, you only really remember the names of your co-workers that you've directly talked to more than once, and up until he showed up, you were more than content with that arrangement.

See, it had been your own choice to not be anything beyond coworkers with these people, so when Phainon first approached you with a boyish smile and one hand outstretched, you simply took one look at the appendage, then him, say your name once, before returning your attention back to your PC monitor.

Usually, your reaction is more than enough for people to leave you alone. Except instead of labelling you as rude or scoffing and going on his merry way, he took it as a personal challenge to 'get you to crack'.

Whatever that means.

You're not entirely sure why he set his sights set on you in the first place. Literally everyone else has responded to him in a much more amicable manner. Not only that, but you're pretty sure at least half of them have a crush on the guy, including your manager, if her giggles and hair twirling were of any indication.

A lot of them were objectively more attractive than you as well, and you could do without the envious stares of his admirers whenever you go to grab decaf from the refreshment table.

On most days, you ignore him. Giving him a reaction only seems to spur him on. It's also easier, honestly, because unlike some assholes who do it to get into your pants, he seems to actually want to be your friend.

But you're not here to make friends, you remind yourself.

You don't think you could after how the higher ups and coworkers in your previous job treated you as someone who used to believe in kindness: with unpaid overtime, getting blamed on for unfinished projects, and being the topic of gossip because you thought they could be trusted with a few secrets outside of work.

It's why you've decided to stick to the bare minimum when it comes to human interaction. You even made sure to make up for it by being on top of your work at all times, so even if people don't like you for your personality, they have no real reason to complain to management.

Still, Phainon is nothing if not stubborn, so he persists.

("Think you mispronounced the word steadfast," he had said in response to finding out from one of the few people you're friends with—who couldn't shut up to save their life—that you had referred to him as such. The silence that greets him afterward is deafening, but the upward curl of his lips doesn't falter.)

That being said, you're not a robot, even if you wish you could be at times. At least then you wouldn't have to worry about growing annoyed, seeing as most of them lack the ability to feel. Unfortunately, this means that you had been doomed from the start, because sooner or later, you're bound to slip up.

Granted, it wasn't really his fault—it had been a combination of small grievances that had accumulated and festered throughout the days leading up to this one, and, despite everything you just said, he's not the worst person in the world to be around. At least he's actually trying to get to know you properly, unlike some other people who would fake some sweet words to get you to do them favors.

"Hey, [Name], do you think—"

"Not today, Phainon."

The warning is there. It's a thinly veiled threat if he's ever heard of one.

Phainon frowns, but not for the reason you think. Your eyes are bloodshot, the bags underneath more prominent than ever.

You're stressed, more so than usual. He wants to ask, but he knows better than to push you.

It was silent for the first few seconds, but then you hear the sound of someone walking away, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You think that would be it— no one approaches your cubicle other than him these days. Good. Now you can just focus on killing time until you can go home and sleep it off.

Or at least, that had been the plan, until he returns an hour later, papers in hand.

"…Look, [Name]—"

You move faster than he can blink. Turning on your swivel chair, one of your hand shoots out to grab the end of his tie before proceeding to give it one firm tug.

Next thing he knows, his face is a breath away from yours.

"Did you not get the hint?" You hiss. "Leave. Me. The fuck. Alone."

But Phainon can barely hear you over the sound of his own quickening heartbeat.

He should be scared, he thinks. Yet all he can think about are the dips and curves of your features, something he hasn't been able to see clearly until now.

Against his will (or was it?), his ocean irises flicker down towards your lips for a split second. They're curled to a snarl, revealing a bit of teeth.

Phainon swallows. Hard. He thinks he feels warmth on his cheeks. He hopes that you don't notice. If you did, you don't comment on it.

You narrow your eyes at him one more time before finally loosening your grip and turning your back on him. "Go."

That's enough to snap your snowy-haired collague out of his trance, and he finally remembers why he came back.

He takes a deep breath.

"Before you decide to get mad at me," he starts, "I wanted to give these reports to you. They're from one of the interns— figured I'd help him out."

And spare him from any unwarranted anger. The last part goes unsaid, though.

The furious typing on your keyboard momentarily stops.

Ah, crap. Now you feel awful.

"I—" A sigh escapes you. You turn around to look at him again, one hand going up to pinch the bridge of your nose. "Fuck. I'm sorry."

Phainon opens his mouth to reassure you that it's fine, everyone has those days, until a better idea crosses his mind.

"I'll forgive you if you go grab some food with me later."

The guilt on your face dies instantly, replaced by your signature deadpan.

"Are you serious?"

He flashes you a toothy grin. "Deadly."

"You—" You exhale sharply through your nose. "Fine, whatever. Just, bring me the damn papers."

And he does, with a gait of someone that's far too pleased with himself.

For the first time today though, the weight on your shoulders doesn't feel as heavy.

eshdcbebiufbsibfisefbessfobuesfb been thinking so freaking hard about reluctant mentor!phainon x unwilling mentee!reader, where the mutual dislike is very much obvious at first. not edited at all, super rambly and niche but my aus tend to all be like that :p

PHAINON is a hero of renown. Or at least, he uesd to be. The great evil, sorcerer Lygus, has been vanquished, and the realm has been peaceful ever since.

Maybe a little too peaceful.

The white haired swordsman knows he can do so much more than this job. The 'Deliverer', destined for greatness, reduced to a guy who takes commissions from the adventurer's guild here and there to get by.

His lips purse every time it crosses his mind.

It's not that he's not grateful. At his core, Phainon still enjoys helping people. It's just so... arduously dull compared to his previous endeavors. So when he gets called by the royal council—specifically by Lady Aglaea, who held the previous title of heroine of the realm and his one and only master—once more to the palace for some urgent matter, he practically sprints over as fast as his mount can take him.

This is it, he thinks. No more escorting cargo, or rescuing people's cats off trees, or fending off forest boars. He's finally going to be able to satiate the increasingly desperate craving for adrenaline pumping in his veins—

"Phainon, we think we've found a suitable successor."

His train of thought gets completely derailed to the side.

"Or a companion, I suppose. Whichever the both of you see fit. Regardless of what you choose, you are to take them under your wing, just as I you all those years ago."

He doesn't know what to make of it at first. One one hand, it's not exactly what he was hoping to hear, but it's a big responsibility all the same.

That being said, it sounds infinitely more appealing than any of his previous work, so he thinks it wouldn't be to bad.

He nods. "Of course, Lady Aglaea."

She does the same before gesturing to the guards stationed behind her seat.

The five minute wait felt like an eternity. He wonders that kind of person you'd be.

"Phainon, meet—"

A yawn from you cuts her off and the room falls deadly silent. The sound isn't exaggerated or anything, but you hadn't bothered to close your mouth either. Some of the other council members openly gawk at the sheer audacity, while others rub at their temples. The only person who seems amused is Cifera, but that's just part of her nature, Phainon thinks.

Aglaea clears her throat, and he swears he sees one of her eyebrows twitch briefly. "...[Name]."

You blink lazily, yet your eyes remain unfocused.

Your disinterest is painfully obvious, so much so that he almost immediately second guesses if you were the right person. His concerns remain unvoiced as to not disrupt the meeting, but the dubious look he sends at Aglaea speaks volumes.

She responds with a look of her own that looks unreadable at a glance, but then he sees something akin to a plea in her unseeing eyes.

"Uh, [Name]." Hyacine chimes in, half meek. "Why don't you introduce yourself?"

"The council already gave away my name, though?" You point out. And still, you refuse to look any of them in the eye. Phainon's grip on his great sword tightens subconsciously. "Don't think there's much else to say."

Not like I'll be here long. You already know that most of them disapprove of you—the one and only reason they haven't kicked you out is, apparently, to honor Lady Tribios' dying wish.

You frown. What a pain.

These people don't deserve that kind of information, anyway. Not after they practically kidnapped you. You always wanted to visit Okhema's palace, but not like this.

Never like this.

"Lady Tribios has chosen you as Lord Phainon's successor. Come with us."

You are not a hero nor a martyr, that you're certain. Merely a middle class citizen with two relatively loving parents and a sibling or two. Not poor, not rich. Just enough to live a comfortable life.

Your mother is the owner of a cozy little tavern whose regulars are— mostly—well behaved people, and your plan had been to continue running the business. Something something 'it's not much but it's honest work.'

The pay's decent, there's plenty of opportunity for networking, and even more to steal a few bites of any leftovers or failed attempts. More importantly, you were given freedom to a reasonable extent. Obviously you can't change the menu to include your favorite dish as the featured one every single day, but for the most part, your parents allowed you to do what you wanted.

So when all that freedom and ability to choose was taken away, you were rightfully pissed.

It gets so much worse when you realize that the council already has an answer to all of your arguments as to why they should choose someone else.

Can't fight? They'll teach you.

No magical abilities? "It'll awaken in time."

What about your family at home? "We'll cover for their expenses and keep them safe, so long as you agree to join."

You're rude and uncooperative from the get go. Surely they prefer someone easier to work with? "…The prophecy does not allow for substitutes."

You demand to speak to the prophet, only to get gobsmacked by the news that she apparently passed on days ago, exactly a few minutes after uttering your name.

Like, okay, condolences, but also, fuck these guys.

"Finally decided to come to your senses?" Anaxagoras—you should start calling him Anaxa, the people say he hates it—says mockingly. Again, they say it as if you ever had a choice to begin with. He dismisses the scathing glare you send his way. "Good. The sooner I'm done with this, the sooner I can get back to my research."

And thus your training regimen was decided: physical combat and basic chivalry lessons would fall to Phainon, where other abilities would fall between Anaxa and Aglaea.

It's funny (not). You're not actually a bad student by any means. Matter of fact, your parents have praised you for being intelligent ever since you were a child: you learn things relatively quickly, and are naturally observant. Had it not been for the prophecy (gods, you despised the word already), you could've been one of their best.

Speaking of Phainon…

How does he react? Well. The first training session was unnervingly awkward, the tension in the air so thick that you were convinced it would be the most difficult thing he could possibly cut with his great sword.

You've heard of him, of course. The whole of Okhema sings praises and speaks his name with reverence. He's known for a lot of things, and one of them is being friendly to everyone he meets, on top of every single good deed you can think of. You don't think you've ever seen him frown before, actually.

Not until right now.

"You don't belong here." He says it like it's a fact—without a trace of doubt.

You should be ashamed, you think. Or at least a little remorseful of your own behavior, seeing his obvious disapproval. But you don't, because it's not like you chose to be in this position either. You smile sardonically. "Tell me something I don't know."

ended here cause i ran out of brain juice but!!

it would basically be a slow burn that involves both parties influencing one another, because nothing is really every black and white and you gotta find the balance, ya know? reader would teach phainon that he is more than his role and that he is allowed to have needs/wants outside of it x phainon inspires them to grow into their role, and how to find the light in between the inevitability of fate (aka sometimes shit happens that's out of your control, it's up to you how to respond to it).

i would end it with them becoming engaged, although people noted that they bicker like an old married couple anyway, hehe. thank you if you gave this a shot <3

NOTES: first time officially writing something for mydei,,, apologies if he's ooc i'm. trying my best fnoeuwfonefw consider this a. ah. um, trial run,,,

i've seen people writing about how they would make it up to you, their object of affection. to sum it up, PHAINON can and will grovel in public if needed (especially if you're giving him the silent treatment), while MYDEI is more methodical in his approach, opting to give you space but still doing acts of service, so i want to explore how they are before shit goes down, mhm.

For PHAINON, it depends. If it specifically has to do with his well-being—which, half the time, is the case, much to your dismay—he's... actually quite good at masking it (damn him). I like to think that he's a bad liar, but he's adept at acting like nothing's wrong and/or deflecting the subject whenever you bring it up.

Everything else, though? Poor guy stands absolutely zero chance. He's antsy, barely able to hold still, tapping a finger, or maybe his foot. One time, you placed a hand on his arm and he literally jumped, akin to a frightened cat. His eyes would be darting around nervously. He'd either gnaw on his bottom lip with his teeth or have them pursed. Basically, he's either the greatest pretender or a walking neon sign that says "I did something wrong", no in between.

You'd think MYDEI would fare better, and initially, I thought so too, until I remember other characters who have a personality like his, and all of them have one thing in common: their act is near perfect regardless of the cause, as in, everything stays the same...

...except he refuses to look at you in the eyes.

And it's not even cause he doesn't want to, he physically can't. I don't think he's even aware of it until you point it out.

The both of you would be cooking together and the whole time you're helping him or vice versa, and he's looking everywhere but your face: the stove, the ingredients, the exhaust hood, his phone—you name it. It honestly could've passed off as normal behavior had his unwavering gaze not been such a core part of him as a person. Because MYDEI is almost always looking at you, most notably when you're talking to him. You could be rambling about some oddly shaped rock you found that day, it doesn't matter. Not only is it a show of respect, but it's also to make certain that you know he's paying attention.

wait so phainon in his khaslana form causes his body to like. rapidly heat up right. do you think he'd purposefully either bury his head into your stomach or put both hands over the area above your uterus whenever you're experiencing cramps?

"You what?"

He thought he heard wrong the first time. A tiny part of him hopes he did.

You looked down at your lap where your hands are conjoined, fiddling with your fingers. "I… have a boyfriend."

Oh.

So he wasn’t mishearing things.

The gears in his head begin to turn, and for a few excruciating seconds, there exists only the muffled sounds of one of the songs in your playlist, a result of him turning down the music after you mentioned you had something important to tell him.

When the information finally sinks in, dread soon follows, albeit at a much slower pace. It felt like someone had doused ice water on him, with the residual cold only just beginning to settle into his bones.

The car slows down to a stop at an intersection, and he still hasn't said anything, the words '[Name] has a boyfriend' looping in his head like a broken record.

"Phainon?"