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fidgeting with the straps of your bass, you stand before the closed curtain. although the show hasn’t started yet, there was a thin line of sweat trailing against the nape of your neck, seeping into the fabric of your clothes and reminding you of the grossness of showrunning and pride of performing. your fingers are jittery and restless. nervously grazing the fretboard, you suck in a deep breath, expanding your lungs against the tightness of your ribcage. your had turns upwards, a smile writing itself across your face.
the last show of the year. the one most people have been waiting on the edges of their seats for. it was both an exciting yet daunting revelation. the owner of ghost town mentioned recently that as the months go by, the small crowd your band has gathered became bigger. they’ve even gotten bolder at times, holding up signs above their heads, cheering names. stelle brought up seeing familiar faces from her time at stellaron. a young, grey-haired woman and her timid companion, clutching onto her arm as they waited in the darkness, looking out for their former keyboardist.
when the velvet curtain pulls away, you’re met with more than just blinding stage lights. while you walk towards the microphone, your eyes quickly scan the audience. under the blanket of anxious feelings and stage-fright, you’ve forgotten about phainon’s previous message. you hoped that in the far distance, you would see his blue-eyes and striking white-hair. for a second, you almost feel a little dejected, being unable to see him so easily.
but a shout quickly breaks through your looking glass. at the very front of the crowd, phainon was there, holding a large bouquet of flowers. your friends giggle and roll their eyes. whether or not phainon bribed the owner to enter the venue with ordain arrangements, it didn’t matter as much as the thought of seeing him. you swallow a nervous gulp, pressing down the butterflies that were threatening to explode from the confines of your chest. phainon was surrounded by a few other people. one held onto his shoulder while the rest grinned with childish glee.
phainon’s face was slightly red, most likely from the venue’s heat and adrenaline. though, for him, it must have been because he was standing beneath your light. the sight of him jumping up and down, shaking the flowers in his arms with upmost joy has you laughing.
you bring the microphone to your lips, grinning as the crowd pulls forward: “hello everyone. welcome to ghost town, we are siraph!” adjusting your grip, your eyes look forward, staring off into the distance with a proud smile. “it has been an incredible journey performing for you. i hope our time together was well spent.”
“for us, the band, it has been everything we’ve ever wanted and more.”
it takes everything within your body to keep the tears from flowing. you were awfully emotional today. while you were still going to perform your usual songs, there was the obvious new addition. however, it won’t be the end. if anything, it was just the beginning. after finishing your recent song, your friends decided it would be best to release a digital album. you’ve kept this fact hidden from phainon, knowing how excited he would be—not having to recite your songs in his head, but play your voice on the stereo.
your fingers tighten themselves on your strings. the audience is looking up at you with anticipation. some lick their lips, others turn to their friends, whispering amongst themselves. silverwolf and firefly kept to themselves in the corner, the former leaning against the wall with a cool expression. phainon’s shoulder is constantly getting shook by the woman with pink hair. her excitement is palpable. a reflection of the crowd’s excitement.
“to show our appreciation, we’re performing our newest song for our next album: risk.” the stage light dims slightly. not as blaring as it was at the beginning of your entrance. it has a warmer tone. something soft. tender and comforting. a perfect kind of mood. although your group rarely makes changes to your lighting, stelle wanted the atmosphere to be just right.
your cupids bow makes brief contact with the cool metal of your microphone: “this is forefront.”
march 7th takes the lead, bouncing her drumsticks against the tom and cymbal. your hands quickly adjust themselves, nails grazing alongside the thick strings of your bass. your feet instinctively tap themselves on the ground, following the rhythm march 7th had set out for you. even though you’ve spent most of your time on stage unmoving, the beat of your newest song has you swaying back and forth.
the song is broken up into different sections, each being sung by your friends. you chose to focus on the intro and chorus, stelle and march 7th created the verse and pre-chorus, and dan heng took the refrain and bridges. you thought it was sweet that stelle and march 7th suggested doing a short duet together. you suppose it shouldn’t be so much of a surprise that after all these years, they would basically be the second pair in your band.
everything was slowly falling into place. the crowd was on their toes, leaning forward to hear your voice. dan heng was shifting, eyes narrowing with careful precision as he lands a difficult set of chords. march 7th was smiling despite the sweat pouring down the back of her neck. her feet were constantly bouncing with energy, hands busying themselves with the rhythm of everyone’s instruments. stelle was occasionally glancing at silverwolf and firefly, watching as they gave her a simple thumbs up of encouragement. though you couldn’t help but feel as if there was something missing.
as you’re strumming, your eyes lower themselves, meeting with phainon’s ocean-blue eyes. his lips were curved upwards into a brilliant smile. the flowers in his hand reflect their own kind of light onto his skin. yellow sunflowers create warmth reminiscent of your galaxy’s star. white lilies tickle the underside of his chin, its sweet aroma cutting through the stuffy air.
phainon, as smart as he is, sought the help from his close friend cyrene. as the perfect gift giver and a native speaker in flower-language, she crafted him the perfect bouquet for your show. she was over the moon at the prospect of phainon confessing. she ended up at the local floral shop at six in the morning, picking out all kinds of flowers that could possibly reflect phainon’s yearning.
at first, he worried that you might not understand it. sure, the bouquet was pretty at first glance. the white lilies were in full bloom, and the sunflowers were perfectly standing with poised elegance. it didn’t matter if you only saw them as beautiful decorations. hidden between the leaves was an envelope, sealed with golden wax—a more bold representation of his feelings.
lucky for him, you were not blind. the softened look in your eyes and rosy-tinted appearance told him all he needed to know. for a second, he wanted to bury his face into the petals of your bouquet, however, he couldn’t resist keeping his eyes on you. he wanted to see you—more than ever, from now and forever.
the times spent lingering on your finger tips, having wondered if they were smooth to the touch, or calloused and aged, his fondness for you blooms brighter than any flower. the hope that one day, you would lay with him, on a blanket he had perfectly kept in the truck of his car, gazing out to the stars, it all stays written in his dreams. he wants to whisper in your ear the things that bother him most, to confess that despite his goody-two-shoes nature and easy-going attitude, he wasn’t a perfect soul.
phainon adores you with his entire heart. he craves your voice, the melody that you’ve created that reassures the worry in his heart. he craves your warmth, the one you feared had diminished over the years, threatened by the icy cold trenches of your nightmares. he craves the belief that with effort, he could do anything: he could be the man he always wanted to be. the person who would straighten his back in confidence, declaring to the world his wish and ambition—but more so the terrifying dread that eats him alive, exposing that he is just a man.
it would be a lie for you not to confess the same. although the last couple of months have been filled to the brim with rigorous studying and practice, the joy of seeing phainon’s smile never fails to lighten your day. the idea of failing didn’t seem so bad with him by your side.
you were always going to hit the ground. the events of high school will continue to linger at the back of your mind, clawing its way to the front. however, you needed the right kind of push to keep on running forward. you have to keep moving: to a new tomorrow. to the person you’ve always wanted to be, sitting at the end of your decorated table, laughing with a glass of wine in your hand as your friends giggle at your newfound success. to the light at the end of the tunnel, showing you that despite all of life’s beating, you could still find happiness. you needed to believe that as long as you kept trying, one day, you’ll find peace in yourself.
though, most important of all: the reassurance that you could trust the people around you.
before you realized it was over, the lights were brought back to its usual color. sweat sticks to the surface of your skin. shaky breaths escape your lips, adding to the heavy pressure in the room. the rest of your friends huff and wipe away at their chins, grinning as they look to each other. march 7th lowers her drumsticks slightly, looking up at you as you grip the microphone tightly.
you allow everyone on stage to catch their breaths one more time.
“tonight might have been the best time of my life,” you say, lungs trembling at the sudden gust of air rushing through your body, “thank you for coming to our last show. our band wants to thank the owner for giving us the opportunity to share our music with you.”
your eyes flicker throughout the room, dancing from one corner to the other. “while we aren’t sure whether or not we will continue our in-person shows, we decided on creating digital albums for everyone to enjoy.”
at first, you think it might be best to end it here. you couldn’t soften your band’s departure from the city anymore than this. as you look down, phainon raises his arms higher, offering you his bouquet. you feel a sudden push forward. briefly glancing over your shoulder, stelle winks at you, giving you a cheeky thumbs up.
taking the flowers by its ribbon handle, your gaze lingers on him a little longer, basking in his slightly disheveled appearance. today he wasn’t wearing his glasses. not the kind that made him look a little more nerdy than usual. you think he took them off because he knew he would be jumping up and down in the crowd, singing every lyric with his heart and soul. the music-lover inside of him was ecstatic and explosive. it is fitting for someone who proclaimed himself as siraph’s number one fan.
you hold the flowers close to your chest, using your other hand to adjust your grip on the microphone. the sight of sunflowers has your lips curving into a gentle, reassuring smile.
“and…”
you straighten your posture, staring forward once more. to some extent, the old you would have swallowed these next few words with contempt and bitterness. you imagine for a fraction of a second, the pitiful you that was lying in bed, twirling your hair through your fingers, trying to uproot the strings tethering you to the past. memories of crying in your hands, closing your eyes and trembling will be no more.
instead, you remember the warmth of your friends. the tenderness in their touch, the laughter and tears they’ve elicited from you, the chance to see that you’re worth something.
“... to always believe in yourself and others.”
with that, the show comes to its proper closure. before the curtains could fall on the stage, you make a subtle gesture towards phainon, pulling him off to the side. your friends, more specifically stelle and march 7th, snicker and huddle together, murmuring about a possible confession. in the midst of your excitement and adrenaline, dan heng stopped to take your instrument, rolling his eyes at your sudden forgetfulness. faint clapping could be heard behind the velvet fabric, cheers of your band’s name echoing, still, you hurry off the platform.
at the bottom, you see phainon nervously scratching the back of his neck—a nervous tick you’ve grown all too familiar with. clutching the flowers, you make your way toward his direction. your heart was beating faster than you could have ever expected. it was hammering at the forefront of your chest, and you quickly raise your hand to touch your ear, feeling heat radiating off of your skin.
it has been four years since you’ve been in love.
four long years agonizing over the prospect of never being enough—never being good for your friends, never being a good person, never being anything that wasn’t what you envisioned. but that has long faded. it dwindles the moment phainon reaches out to touch the skin on your cheek. you didn’t realize you were crying until his thumb wiped away the wetness from the corners of you eyes.
you bring one hand to to his wrist, wrapping your fingers around him. as fast as your heart was beating, his was even faster. it pulsated against his skin, enveloping you with warmth.
“did you like the song?” you ask, eyelashes fluttering as you stare up at him. this gesture has him muffling a chuckle, not wanting to interrupt what felt like the most intimate part of his life.
“i loved it. dare i say, it might be my favorite of them all.” his words came out breathy but full of heart. dilatant has been his longtime favorite of his since the day he saw siraph perform, however, this new song took the words out of his mouth. there was so much he wanted to say about it. from the opening line, to the perfect rhythm of the drums, endless praises were threatening to fall from his lips. “i couldn’t imagine anything else better to end the year with.”
this causes the front of your nose to twitch, as your lips part to allow for a humorous exhale. “we still have another week or so to walk down the graduation aisle. so i guess the year isn’t over just yet.”
“it definitely feels like the end though.”
phainon glances from your waist to your face, moving his other hand to press lightly against the curvature of your hip. he doesn’t pull you in quite yet. if anything, he continues to stare at you, pleading with just his eyes the desire to keep you in his arms. when you are the first to wrap your arms around his neck, he breaths in a loud sigh of relief, as if he had just conquered the seven seas and heaven.
“are you ready for that roadtrip?” his voice tickles the edge of your ear, making the heat that was radiating off of it earlier turn into a furnace, or worst: the sun.
“where to first?”
“obviously planarcadia. it might take us a couple of days to explore everything though. there are too many things not to see—like the bookstores, the karaoke rooms, i even heard they have a festival coming up. i wouldn’t want us to miss out on it!”
you bury your face into the crook of his neck, giggling as you rock back and forth on your heel, taking him along with you. “karaoke? it sounds like you just want to hear me sing for free.”
“what? nooo!”
phainon sheepishly scratches the side of his cheek with his pointer finger, unable to contain the truth behind your words. “you wouldn’t be wrong… but if i wanted to hear you sing, we can do it in the car! you said you’re releasing a new digital album, right? we should listen to that on the way there!”
the man releases a whine, “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me this sooner. you better send the link to your spotify profile. i’ll be the first follower, and i’ll make to add you to every playlist of mine. after that, you have to upload it to instagram so i can use it for my story music.”
“slow down there.” your body vibrates with laughter, “i just thought it would be a nice surprise until the show. besides, its a nice present for all you’ve done.”
it seems only right that you would start uploading music digitally. the first time you exchanged numbers with phainon was because he wanted a recording of your songs. everything circled back to the day at the classroom, when it was just the two of you in the early morning, awkwardly fidgeting in each others seat with the vague knowledge he knew you.
“still!”
as he pouts, you feel phainon pull you closer to his chest, letting you feel the full brunt of his beating heart. it wasn’t at all subtle. his feelings for you were pouring out of his body, emitting a feverish heat that has you finally laughing with your whole lungs.
you move back, eliciting another whine from his lips. however, it was quickly replaced with stunned silence as you held onto his cheeks, gaze easing with what he could only describe as affection and adoration. the bitterness he felt when he visited your apartment, seeing littered photographs of old smiles, disappeared in the blink of an eye. the thought of a new tomorrow guides him to press his fingers against the back of your hand, keeping you stilled in this moment.
“thank you, phainon.”
when your lips finally touch his, that was when everything truly fell into place.
₊˚ෆ college au!phainon x vocalist!reader.
synopsis; on a dreary night, a nameless band and singer relieves phainon of his homesickness. determined to find her once more, their worlds collide when phainon realizes: his favorite vocalist is his classmate (name).
genres/warnings; smau, college au, classmates to lovers, profanity, timestamps don’t matter, photographs are non-representative of reader, fem!reader.
“lets take a short break for now,” dan heng announces, heaving slightly with every breath. there was a small dribble of sweat trailing down the side of his neck, sinking deep into his black turtleneck. part of his eyeliner had also been smudged by the back of his hand. as of recently, he has been putting his all into his guitar solos. an effort that was paid off rather well, as seen from the proud smile he wears.
the rest of your band leans back, shoulders and muscles stretching upwards before falling helpless to their sides. you’ve been practicing well over three hours now. everyone had cleared their schedules for this specific day; it was time to complete your setlist and stand your final ground against the bellowing winds of adulthood—threatening to rupture the peaceful life you’ve slowly come to accept.
“finally!”
“about time…”
everyone left their stations, reaching into their backpacks for a sip of water or a towel. your fingers remain on your instrument, a pensive look washing over your face as you stare off into an empty corner of the room. you had roughly two hours left before leaving the rental room. march 7th returns to her seat, scooching it backwards as stelle chugs the rest of her water. dan heng tucks himself between the sound system, fiddling with the knobs until the hum and screech of his guitar deafens. everyone was busying themselves with something.
you were acutely aware of everyone's plans after college. dan heng will inevitably return to his father’s company with the hope of changing his mind—opening up to the possibility of other networks and creative freedom. stelle mentioned wanting to travel for a little while. she thought about visiting the city of penacony. as much as you would have loved to join her, it was best you avoided advertisements with robin. march 7th was in the same boat as you. not entirely sure what she wants to do, the girl plans on living carefree until an opportunity comes by. simple. minimalistic. on the surface, she didn’t seem all too burdened by the idea of staying home.
you’ve been reflecting a lot since talking to phainon. he reminded you that despite your fears, you should say something before its too late. a word of appreciation. an apology. anything. something that will show your friends that they meant the world to you. however, you aren’t entirely sure where you wanted to start, or if there was a good time for it at all. your last show starts soon. before you know it, you’ll be walking down the graduation aisle, waving down the crowd on top of the stage with a diploma. for some odd reason, it seems as if you didn’t have enough time for anything. your brain right now felt foggy. too many thoughts at once: mailing your diploma, filing for jobs, moving back home alongside march 7th and dan heng. in between the cracks, you imagine being with phainon—wondering if some day, you could visit each other’s hometown for the season, embracing his hand beneath the changing weather with palpable nervousness.
your face burns. you don’t know if its because of the stuffy room or the overwhelming weight of the world melting your brain. you haven’t had such vivid imaginations in a long time. not since sunday. you want to say that it was just a coincidence; you’ve been spending so much time with phainon, it was inevitable you’ll love him. but you know deep down that was not the case.
you’ve spent longer than you would have liked, admiring the small specks of freckles that were so faint, you could hardly believe they existed if not for the warm lighting of your room. your eyes trace a line across his jaw, seeing the sharpness in its corners. even the glasses he wore made him look exceptionally pretty, a real beauty and brain. it doesn’t help that he was overly friendly and a real treat to talk to.
underneath everything, phainon was beautifully kind. the perfect representation of the sun that no matter how many times people describe it, never gets old. he shined brightest in a crowd of people. the golden string across his chest is reminiscent of ancient threads, and you blissfully wonder if it was destiny that brought the two of you together. although sunday was equally attractive, with the matching silver hair and delicate ear piercings, you were drawn to the incredible warmth phainon carried. he was strong and reliable—someone you could imagine leaning your head against, listening to ocean waves crashing against the rocks as he hums one of his favorite songs: dilatant.
words don’t need to be big. or grand. or anything marvelous. you aren’t delivering a ground-breaking speech that will rally a troop to the battlefield. you aren’t encapsulating the entirety of your college life, to project the struggles and achievements felt by every student. the words that will come out of your mouth can be messy, and that will be okay. most importantly: you will be okay.
when dan heng notices your silence, he looks over, only to see your fingers tightening their grip around the fretboard. your face was churned in a mixture of nervousness and expectance. you wanted to say something, he could tell by those eyes. march 7th and stelle glance over at you, raising their eyebrows as dan heng speaks first.
“(name)? is everything alright?”
a shiver racks through your body. you start to get cold feet. the sensation of being wrong was like a bucket of ice water raining down on you, pounding at your skull. it almost keeps you from opening your mouth. however, underneath the careful and concerned gazes of everyone, you attempt to pop the bubble in your stomach.
“i…” your voice comes out trembly and uneven. you have to fight back the urge to immediately cry on the spot. your nose crinkles and you swallow audibly. “i wanted to say something.”
your band looks confused for a second. was it about the band? the setlist? the new song? but their fears about their final show were silenced—replaced by utter surprise at the small whimpers escaping your lips.
“i’m really glad to have met everyone here. having this band perform at shows, helping each other study and pass classes, for us to be graduating together—it makes me so happy knowing i have people like you by my side.”
despite trying your best to contain your tears, they start to slip, dribbling down the side of your cheek in a salty mess. “and maybe its the thought of graduation, or not seeing each other as much, that makes me feel like i have to say something before its too late.”
“you guys have dealt with my bullshit for so long, and i know is not easy when i don’t say anything, or when i give up too easily, and i’m—i feel so guilty taking advantage of your patience and kindness,” dan heng’s expression could only soften at your words, easing up his tense muscles, “i’m not the greatest friend, or the best person… i know what i did in high school, and i…”
“for the longest time, i thought i didn’t deserve anything. not a good future or anything. i felt like if i did something wrong, or anything for that matter, i’d just be fucking things up as i always did. and maybe… i won’t change after all. i’d still be that same girl, afraid to talk about herself because she doesn’t want to complicate things, running away from her problems… rejecting new things. i don’t want to be that horrible person. i don’t want to be that kind of person you regret being friends with—because i,” your voice cracks, embarrassingly so, “i care so much about everyone here. i’ve been thinking about it a lot recently, but i’m afraid to let all of this go. if i didn’t say anything now, i might not be able to say it ever.”
“and i know it feels selfish, only saying these things now when i’ve been busy talking to someone new. i’m sorry,” you raise your fingers, wiping away at your tears. your voice is reduced to emotional trembles and hiccups, breaking apart your syllables. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”
your friends stay silent, pausing in their movements as they turn to each other. stelle’s hands were clammy. march 7th was stunned into silence. dan heng stood off to the side, fingers tightening around the carabiner on his waistband. but as they watch tears roll down your cheeks, the sincere look on your face, and the words that messily spill from your slightly cracked lips—stelle is the first person to walk forward.
she raises her arms, pulling you into a tight hug. she rests her cheek against yours, allowing their wetness to imprint on her skin, a reminder of this heartfelt moment. she didn’t care about the sloppy and chaotic look to you. her fingers card themselves through your hair, tucking away the strands that blind you from her eyes.
“i thought the same,” she starts, reminiscing the good times, “i was lost too. everyone that i knew left and i had no where else to go. when kafka and blade graduated, things weren’t the same anymore. people change. they grow distant. maybe its easier to let things go like that. when i said i wanted to sell my keyboard and give up music entirely, i meant every word.”
she holds onto you tighter, as if letting you go would mean giving up this new dream. “meeting everyone here has helped me realize how much i care about music. ex machina was my favorite song. when i heard you play it that night, maybe it really was meant to be—that i would find someone who understood how i felt, performing a song i’ve spent so long practicing at home. even though you don’t want to be famous, i can tell every time you’re on that stage, this is something you love, and for someone like me, thats all i wanted: a place where we could love freely.”
“we don’t talk about our problems a lot. but i know we both share the same desire of wanting to laugh and have fun with everyone. to me, i think thats enough to consider us good friends.”
march 7th shyly approaches, wrapping her arms around this growing hug. “i was worried about what will happen to us after graduation. we came from the same town, went to the same high school, but i got scared it might not feel like this anymore. i got a little scared thinking we might not be friends anymore. no more drinking, partying, playing music, studying, sleepovers… movie nights,” she starts to cry as well, unable to contain the good memories she was terrified losing, “at the end of the day, what i want most is for us to stay together, even if things change, we move or make new friends at work, i want us to keep talking.”
she is the first person aside from you to shed tears. her hands ball into small fists, clenching onto the fabric of your clothes. you weren’t the only person holding back their emotions. everyone here, in this small rental room that smelled acutely of sweat and metal, had their fears and hopes riding on not just a band, but a friendship that changed lives.
“i’ve known you for so long (name). obviously not as much as dan heng, but long enough to know that i trust you—i accept you, this new version of you that you’re trying to be. high school is just another thing of the past. it doesn’t define us. if anything, i think the person you are today, shaped by college and the new experiences in this city, has made you a better person.”
“you aren’t the same, scared girl you think you are.”
her response causes you to laugh a little, lightening the weight in your heart. for a moment, you wondered why you felt afraid at all. these were your friends. you knew them like the back of your hand. you spent more of your life with them than you could ever fathom. they’ve been with you through every push and pull. every failing class, every late night boba runs, they were by your side, wishing you the best of luck. you knew them. you knew how march 7th likes her drinks, the plushies stelle gravitated towards, even the brand of eyeliner that dan heng buys—these were the people you never wanted to let go.
“the only thing we can do is keep moving forward. even if the past feels heavy, we have to look for tomorrow, because the person you want to be is waiting at the other end of the road,” she presses the side of her head against yours, “i’m proud to be your friend (name), even more after hearing everything you said. this band has been the most fun i’ve had in college. we’ve improved so much over the years. i wouldn’t be surprised if we ended up being world famous!”
“maybe not that far,” stelle jokes, pinching her cheek as she whines, “we gotta sell stadiums to be world famous.”
when the group’s focus turns to dan heng, he immediately freezes up on the spot. he presses his lips tight against each other, glancing off to the side before exhaling. instead of looking away, nervous to see the look on his face, you keep your eyes open. his face was full of relief. calm and reassuring. tender and full of fondness. a mixture of pride and acceptance. like the waves you see every night on the beach, they cull your fears. he reaches forth, pulling everyone together, resting the bottom of his chin against the top of your head.
“as your long time friend and confidant, my words haven’t changed. i still believe that underneath all of this hurt, lies a good person, looking to make things right with herself. you’re changing, faster than i could ever imagine, and i will never be disappointed with the person you’re trying to be. i will never feel sorry for being your friend. i will never regret the times we spent, fighting and arguing about the worst and best kinds of things,” his lips curve into a small smile, “its us. i won’t ever regret simply being us.”
“to some extent, i knew even when we were kids, i wanted to stay by your side. there was light in your heart that was made to shine brighter. although there have been a lot of setbacks and struggles, you’ve always come up on top. march 7th is right, high school is just another thing of the past. it shouldn’t define you. and of course, it shouldn’t be the reason why you stop walking forward.”
“i won’t deny that you were the catalyst to this band. you were what made it into a home, a reason for me to escape and find peace, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy home i grew up in. siraph is somewhere i could be myself without worrying about everyone’s expectation of me. i don’t think i would have gotten this opportunity without you—and i hope that your experiences here has helped you, just as much as it did for the people here.”
stelle giggles, nudging you with a smirk, “you’re funny and i love hearing you crash out whenever we play video games. aside from the jokes, you’re an incredibly bright person. i’m so happy i met you, i love being in this band, and i love all the friends i made because of it.”
“i love snuggling up to you whenever we watch horror movies,” march 7th sheepishly scratches the side of her chin, however, her expression softens up like tofu, a gentle ease washing over her, “i was tired of constantly being told to tone it down. to sit quietly at parties and not say a thing. to feel ashamed about being myself. you’re the only person who saw my bundle of energy as something positive. playing the drums has been so much fun and it was an amazing experience learning an instrument. i’m happy that you found a place for me in this band.”
“of course, i adore your strength to keep fighting,” dan heng’s finger brushes against your shoulder, squeezing you tighter, “graduation might change some things. from the places we live in, to the amount of time we have together, however: i won’t stop trying to be your friend. its too meaningful for me to let it fade, even against time itself.”
everyone’s words rained down on you, washing into your skin and infecting you with love. you couldn’t contain yourself. crying openly with a heave to your throat, you find your nose getting clogged with sticky mucus. however, this feeling of overwhelming warmth overcame the freezing cold memories that haunt you. as you wipe away your tears, trying to dry off the wetness, you wished to some extent, you had told your friends sooner. to hear these words that were so comforting and full of admiration, you could have healed the inner child within you. she didn’t need to wallow in her own sadness, afraid of the possibility of never being understood or heard. terrified that she was born useless and worst: a stain upon the earth. she didn’t have to pull apart her own hair, scratching at the back of her head as amber liquid pooled through worn scabs—she, or better yet: you, could have basked in this light you thought was never promised to you.
this was home.
you know that now. it didn’t matter where life takes you. if you were to move to a different state or country, this feeling will remain in your heart. something you will carry wherever you go like a locket on your neck. even though adulthood was scary, with the constant need to keep up with work and rent, you knew that despite it all, there was something to look forward to. there was going to be someone waiting for you to get off of work, waiting on their phone for the confirmation that you’ll share dinner, waiting for you to pick up their call so you could gossip about your days.
as cheesy as it is: home is where the heart is.
after what felt like the longest hug of your life, everyone shifts to accommodate some space to themselves. march 7th was drying her tears, blowing into her sleeve as dan heng’s face crinkled slightly. he reached into his pocket to offer her tissues. nevertheless, your friends look back at you, smiling with grace.
your fingers return to your instrument, no longer chained by the depths of your own created hell. a steady breath leaves your lips, and you’re filled to the brim with a sense of rebirth.
“our new song will be about graduating.”
you glance up at your friends, smile widening, “not just about college. but in a sense, our younger self. all the things we wanted to leave behind. all the things that scare us. the things we look forward to. i want us to talk about that.” from now on, you weren’t going to stay that terrified little girl, afraid to talk to her friends about the fears in her heart she thought were childish, you’ve grown. you’re mature. even if it was just a little bit, it was the step in the right direction.
“i want us to write our own lyrics.”
march 7th’s eyes glimmers with excitement. she is bouncing up and down, too high on emotions to consider the giddy face she was making. “a song about us?”
“a song about us.”
“and all the things we did,” stelle wraps an arm around march 7th’s shoulder, pinching at the bottom of her chin like a proud detective. she gives you a thumbs up, winking alongside the girl with pink hair. “that sounds like a great song to end off the year. i couldn’t think of anything better.”
dan heng also smiles, nudging you with his shoulder, “its perfect.”
before everyone could return to the scheduled band session, stelle stops you in your tracks. she reaches out, pinching both of your cheeks and stretching them out as you whine in pain. “so? who put you up to this? who made you into such a big sap?”
“let go of meee…”
you pull yourself away from her, turning to smooth out the wrinkles on your face. your gaze softens at the mere thought of your white-haired lab partner, the same person that has wormed himself into your heart, changing you in unusual but welcomed ways. perhaps you shouldn’t be too surprised. phainon had that kind of effect on people. always bringing in some kind of light to their lives.
“you guys already know who it is. i don’t think i have to say it out loud.”
“phainon?”
“who else?” stelle huffs, placing both of her hands on her hips, “y’know i’ve always been more of a dan heng x (name) fan, since i love childhood friends to lovers—” her words were immediately stopped short the moment the aforementioned dan heng slightly hits her on the top of her head. he sighs with exasperation. she must have been the reason for the recent dating rumors. as seen by her tweets, stelle was entirely fond of this nonexistent romantic dynamic between you and dan heng.
but regardless of her feelings, the two of you knew you will stay as good friends. dan heng has shaped you in many ways. he taught you to stay weary of guys who flirt too much, or the kind that will buy you a lot of drinks at the bar. he has even shown you what unconditional, non-romantic love is like—and you think that’s what you want most of all, a person who will love you for who you are, without being swayed by selfish, romantic feelings. he will remain by your side, just as you will.
“it really was fate that brought the two of you together,” march 7th giggles into the back of her hand, looking over at you with a sly expression, “to think he won our lead vocalists heart. i’m so jealous! he must have been a good influence then, if he was the one who put you up to this.”
your expression melts into gentle fondness. an acknowledgement of some kind.
“yeah. i think he really was a good influence.”
your eyes trail downwards, gliding across the surface of your bass. you’re reminded of that night, the one that was filled with music and laughter, the one that had him looking at you as if nothing else existed in the world. the kind that whenever you close your eyes, imagine a room full of warmth, you’d see him at the center of it all, clapping his hands like a die-hard fan he was.
phainon saw within you something you never thought would exist: the opportunity of change. the blessing of love. the recognition to move forward.
and the confession that you want to see him again.
₊˚ෆ college au!phainon x vocalist!reader.
synopsis; on a dreary night, a nameless band and singer relieves phainon of his homesickness. determined to find her once more, their worlds collide when phainon realizes: his favorite vocalist is his classmate (name).
genres/warnings; smau, college au, classmates to lovers, profanity, timestamps don’t matter, photographs are non-representative of reader, fem!reader.
disappointed is an understatement for the fact that a vocal minority of parasocial liars essentially throwing a week long tantrum is what’s finally stuck.
im extra disappointed from a game standpoint because i know there was going to be a lot of lore added and explained with his introduction bc of his position that we’re now missing out on, and the potential delays in already long awaited updates that re-workshopping this change will cause.
also just genuinely surprised because at the very least, from a business standpoint, all the sunken cost for him alone feels like it should’ve been the last resort for them to do this and not the first solution, since they’ll never make any money back on him now.
last but most important, not only are the players impacted here, but this widespread tantrum and attempt to strong arm a company over a game is having real life impacts on the writing team that was hired for Valko, all the voice actors and cosplayers and motion capture actors for him, and an entire design and animation team I’m sure. so yay, you nuked the real world just to get your fake world to be exactly as you want it …
after setting down your phone, you watch as dan heng folds the roof of his convertible car, exposing you to the outside world. the cold breeze of the ocean nips at your cheek, causing you to shiver. you’re thankful that in this moment, dan heng brought a second jacket for you to wear. as your eyes shift to look out at the dark horizon, you huddle close to him. ocean waves crash along the shores, dragging small shells and glass alongside with it. the abyss is dark and encapsulating. it would have been overwhelming if not for the stars, dancing and twinkling, spreading its magic across the surface of the ocean.
leaning against dan heng’s shoulder, you slowly start to close your eyes. the tension in your muscles flattens out and you’re left with a tired ache.
“you always choose the beach, dan heng.” this location was nothing new. you’ve seen this particular part of town many times before. you’re all too familiar with the benches on the right side, and the piers that used to have ambitious children holding fishing rods. but it never feels boring. not with dan heng.
“i like it,” he plainly replies, “its not too quiet. not too loud. and the breeze feels nice. there isn’t anyone else here to bother us either.”
“mhm…”
when he notices you falling asleep, he shrugs his shoulder, trying to stir you awake. “you might end up missing your class,” a sigh escapes him, “what will you do then?”
“its fine,” you mumble in response, uncaring in the way you press your cheek against his black shirt, “i saved enough absences. besides, this class isn’t that important. i took it just for fun. and credits.”
“i see.”
with that, the two of you fall into comfortable silence. dan heng’s car had been completely shut off, leaving only the sound of the ocean calling out to you. although the air was cold and snappy, the warmth of his body keeps you from completely freezing to death. before his muscles could fully relax, he hears your voice.
“will we be friends… forever?” you carefully ask, too scared to open your eyes. while you knew dan heng enough to predict his answer, you find yourself too afraid to see his face. you think it will make your heart ache like sappy movies engineered to make you cry. so instead, you tuck yourself away, fearing the worst.
but the worst never comes, because dan heng only gives you a gentle, reassuring smile that could warm any weary soul. it was one that reflected years of sympathy and understanding he could only hope for you to see. even if you continued to close your eyes, blind to his own feelings, he believes that eventually, with enough time, you will open them with confidence, and see how much he and everyone else cares.
“of course.”
“do you think… i’m a good person?”
after what you said to sunday, you figure there was no turning back. nothing could erase the hurt you’ve caused him all those years ago. even now, at the dead of night, when your thoughts were at its loudest, you can still hear a whimper of his cry, one that was usually given out when under pressure. although you promised sunday: i will never hurt you, it seemed like thats all you ever did.
“yes.” his answer is resoundingly confident.
“are you sure?”
“never been more sure in my life.”
his reaction causes you to giggle, lightening the mood significantly.
“if you said this to anyone else, they might fall in love with you.”
“then get off me,” immediately, dan heng makes a disgusted face with his nose scrunched up. while there were a few rumors circulating around him and you, he ultimately dismisses them with a wave. he has seen you both at your worst and best, and unfortunately, his heart cannot be swayed to see you anymore than a close friend. he takes his hand to push you by your face, leaving you to struggle and fear the cold.
a beat passes before the two of you say anything.
though this time, dan heng is the one who speaks up and breaks the silence again: “i don’t think there is anyone more perfect than phainon. maybe.”
“emphasis on maybe?”
he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer than before. this was a stark contrast to how he acted twelve seconds ago. his turquoise eyes flicker between the stars and the ocean. for a fleeting moment, when the night gets quieter and the waves slow, you could hear him exhale through his nose.
“i think he is a good person.”
he has heard many stories about phainon. some good. others bad. what was evidently agreed on was how kind-hearted he is. he seemed like the type of guy who would do anything for someone, even if they stepped on his shoe once. while dan heng would have been skeptical at first—after all, how nice of a guy could you possibly be? based on your stories, it seems like phainon had a different side when it came to you.
something that was a lot more real than he anticipated.
“what does that mean? you’re being so ominous…”
dan heng can only roll his eyes in your direction.
you continue to smile, albeit nervously this time: “do you think someone like me could be loved?” your words came out shakier than you would have liked. they reflected all kinds of emotions. fear. hope. resentment. all of these things were bunched up into a tight ball, threatening to break like rubberbands.
“i think you already are,” dan heng gaze softens, “if not by him, then us.” he squeezes your shoulder tighter, trying to snap you out of your stupor. siraph was a band created by you and him. it wasn’t going to go down without a fight, and he would rather die than let you feel as if you were alone in this world.
“we’re in this together,” he says, “no matter what.” this felt like a longtime promise. not just something you say on a whim to impress girls, but a declaration. a scream to the ocean that despite everything, he will be by your side, keeping you grounded. though, what matters most was this: your friends are there for you.
you feel your eyes tear up.
“you always find a way to make me cry.”
“sorry.” his tone is drier than a desert. nevertheless, it still makes you laugh.
underneath the night sky, the walls you’ve spent years building up were starting to wane. before you could drift off into a peaceful sleep, you hear dan heng humming a familiar song in your ear.
₊˚ෆ college au!phainon x vocalist!reader.
synopsis; on a dreary night, a nameless band and singer relieves phainon of his homesickness. determined to find her once more, their worlds collide when phainon realizes: his favorite vocalist is his classmate (name).
genres/warnings; smau, college au, classmates to lovers, profanity, timestamps don’t matter, photographs are non-representative of reader, fem!reader.
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I love how at one point, my inbox just became a letterbox for people to send their cuteness aggression towards Phainon to. “hi harmony i hope you're doing well i want to squish phainon's cheeks and shower him in kisses and ahhsjsjdksjjd he drives me insane" "yes let's send it to that girl harmony, she'll get it"
i used to think "oh there is such a shortage of aether fics" until i got into valorant. and i saw the real shortage of fanfics and art stories in it. i am going crazy for jett and there is little to no fanfic for her to the point i am getting out of art slump just to draw a mini comic for her to read fml (can't post any art here bcs i have a different art blog i wanna keep separate from my account here)
you were sitting in bed, bass nestled prettily between your legs as you slowly lean back against your headboard. your last conversation with phainon felt unfinished. you didn’t know how to feel about his furrowed brows, and whether or not it was your fault—were you the subject of his discomfort? you hope not.
it would just show you that there was no point in getting close to anyone new. it would all end the same anyway. every time you talk about yourself, it was just an endless stream of self-absorbance. you were bound to bore phainon some day. closing your eyes, you exhale with careful precision, making sure it doesn’t get picked up by your phone.
on the other end of the line, you hear dan heng shuffling. he adjusts his guitar pick between his thumb and pointer finger. clearing his throat, he notices your off-putting silence.
“is something wrong, (name)? i don’t hear you.”
“no.” you reply, holding up the neck of your bass, “i was just thinking. that’s all.” your fingers make their way against your strings. the cool metal eases the rising heat of pressure. you should focus on better things.
although the show was still weeks away, you couldn’t shake off your nerves. in between writing essays and lab, you were trying to write a new song. unfortunately, the only thing being written were your detailed analytics of cell splicing. your other notebook, one that had been decorated so nicely by march 7th herself, was completely blank and devoid of any creativity.
“what were you thinking about?”
“i’m not sure.”
“you’re not sure? or are you afraid to talk about it?”
you resist the urge to click your tongue. instead of a sharp response, you press it against the backs of your teeth, allowing hot air to weasel themselves out of the cracks. leave it to dan heng to read you like a children’s book.
“i guess a mixture of both.”
although you couldn’t see him, you knew dan heng was looking off somewhere. “i won’t pressure you to talk.” of course he wouldn’t. it would be rather uncharacteristic of him. but that doesn’t mean he was ignorant. his words still tickle the backs of your neck, causing the hairs to rise as if danger approaches.
“how was your lunch with phainon?” he attempts to switch the conversation over. a clever tactic on his end. you could hear dan heng toying with his guitar strings. each one rings out with its unique note. he was tuning his instrument while talking to you. “did he help you with the assignment?”
“yeah, you could say that.” you hate how clipped your words sound. it made you sound so suspicious. there was a reason why you couldn’t keep your charade of a singer a secret. swallowing your disappointment, you squeeze your frets.
“you don’t sound so confident.”
you practice warming up your fingers. letting them first graze over the fret board, you press down on each indent, pretending to play a song. “it was closer to a work meeting than anything.”
“you didn’t talk about anything with him, other than the assignment?”
“well, no. we talked a little about ourselves. he said he was interested in music but never got the chance to play. something about being too busy working.” you leave out the part that he was working since he was twelve. that was a little too pitiful and sad. it would only worsen the mood that you were having.
“hm. he’s that much of a hardworker? how impressive,” dan heng finally uses his pick to strum against his guitar. the sharp sound stiffens up your muscles. “do you know what major he is in?”
“i forgot to ask.”
you hear him laugh, “that is the most basic conversation of a college student. what else did you guys talk about?”
“my bad for trying not to be basic. you know how much i hated scripted interactions.” you wave your hands back and forth, even when you knew he wasn’t here to look. it was a silly habit of yours to talk with your hands. “whats your name? your major? what year are you? are you in any clubs? people are always asking the same thing.”
it was true. when you and dan heng first arrived at amphoreus university, you were immediately bombarded by the same questions, over and over again. the amount of times you shared instagram handles with random strangers on the street, only to never see or interact with them nearly drove you crazy. things only got more awkward when they forget who you are and asks the same question again: what’s your major?
call it pessimism or whatever—you hated scripted conversations.
“it doesn’t really help your case. you’ve been in the same class with him for how many years? and you only started talking now? it makes more sense to start from the beginning.”
unfortunately, you could not refute dan heng’s words. there wasn’t much protest or argument on your side. you vaguely remember phainon being in your class since you were a freshman (not everyone had bright white hair after all). you think he used to sit in the back of the class, huddled away with the same golden hoodie you see. now that almost four years of passed, and the two of you had grown exponentially (or at least, you hope you did), things are now different.
phainon became more confident. he even got a tattoo on the side of his neck of an eight-pointed sun. not only did it make him stand out more, it only served to memorialize his bright personality. meanwhile, your performances became more polished. instead of tripping on stairs or getting your chords mixed up, it became a smooth-sailing ship despite sunday’s absence. while still shy, you started to grow comfortable in your little bird cage at ghost town.
with how different you and phainon were, it was a miracle that the two of you talked at all.
had it not been for a fated meeting at ghost town, you fear you would have gone on never knowing amphoreus’ golden boy. your band has a strange way of bringing people together. it originally started with just you and dan heng, playing music at the back of the schoolyard, until march 7th overheard and joined—creating the first three members of siraph. with the help of robin and sunday, your group expanded and started performing. this led to stelle joining and finishing the final cast.
dan heng’s voice cuts through your thoughts: “you’re spacing out again, did you even hear what i said?”
“crap, what did you ask? sorry.” your body freezes up. feeling the cold rush of failure and incompetence, your breath comes out shaky. you needed to stop daydreaming all the time. it was getting bad for your health.
“it wasn’t important. i just wanted to know if you were…” this time, dan heng is the one unsure of his words. he doesn’t know where to start. he knows you well enough to figure you are hiding something. he simply needs to coax it out of you without pressuring you.
it takes him a short minute before gathering up his ideas. “if you enjoyed lunch with him. that’s all.”
you think nothing of his words, “i suppose i did. he is a fun person to talk to.”
its only been a few weeks of short conversations, yet you already figured out what makes him so special. not only was he fun to talk to, it was easy to. his questions were simple enough for you to answer. but his presence also has you digging further into unwanted territories.
you started to notice phainon a lot more these days. perhaps it was just a coincidence he showed up at the same coffee shop as you. he ordered a venti mocha frappuccino for himself, and a protein drink for his charming blond friend. it only took a day before you saw him again: this time, it was when you went shopping with stelle and march 7th. in the corner of your eye, you easily spotted his snowy-white hair. he was with another girl with pink hair, and based on the tone of her laugh and the charming smile on her face, you assume he had a girlfriend.
“do you want to hang out with him again?”
“yeah. i guess.”
“you guess?”
“i’m not really sure how to answer the question.” you wish you had the power to read minds. it would make it a lot easier to understand what dan hen means by all his words. he can be so cryptic sometimes. in your humble opinion, phainon was just a friend to you. someone that would brighten up your mundane life every once in a while. he was an ally to the demonic king himself: anaxagoras.
“answer it with the first thing that comes to mind. it doesn’t have to be that complicated.” dan heng can be quite the comedian sometimes. his finger movements on his guitar betrayed his words. he was growing increasingly faster with every second. his picking sounded like he struck matches. “it doesn’t have to be that deep. i’m asking because i’m curious and i want to catch up with you.”
“is calling every night not enough for you?”
you can’t see his smile from the other end of the phone. “suppose not. we aren’t in the same major. and our classes are so far away from each other, you refuse to see me at the computer science building.”
“thats because everyone there smells.”
“i always walk to the biology building. you could endure the stench a little while longer. its not like your department is fairing any better in terms of fragrance.”
“it’s still better than yours.”
instead of another round of endless bickering, you stay quiet for a minute to listen to the song he is playing in the background. it is nothing like the original–it was sharper and a little more distorted. dan heng was breathing a little heavier, keeping himself grounded as his brows furrow in focus. it’s only after you hear the strong pull of his string that the pieces fall into place.
“if i told you, you’d know how to go and break my heart in two.” finally, after a solid thirty minutes of talking and tuning instruments, the two of you were playing a song. normally, you would add march 7th to the call, but her drumming can be overwhelmingly loud and deafening. so for the sake of convenience and harmony, it was only you and dan heng.
“‘cause i would anyways, we’d end up like always.”
“you know me, you better show me that you could say it to my face.” although this wasn't your favorite to sing, it was really pretty, and dan heng always drifted to playing this song. when you asked dan heng about it before, he only shrugged his shoulders, telling you that the shoeglaze version was always better than the original, and that he only liked the instrumentals of the song. as much as dan heng loved happy end by back number, there was no point practicing a song he knew by heart.
‘cause you know we’re the same, there’s worse things i can take. dan heng’s voice was quieter than yours. but you could hear his murmurs finish the rest of the chorus.
surprisingly, despite being in a band, dan heng has never sung publicly. if anything, he barely sang at all. on the rare occasion he does, it’s rather subtle. during practice sessions, you could make out his lips mouthing the words to your songs.
in middle school, he told you about his interest in music. while his father wasn’t the kindest spirit, his mother was the epitome of tenderness. she liked to sing during chores. whether it be hanging clothes to dry or washing dishes, dan heng woke up to the familiar sound of her humming. the two of them loved chinese ballads more than anything. he adored the highs and lows of his mothers voice, for it was the only remedy to a broken heart.
it was only after she passed that he stopped singing entirely. he was thrown into the art of business. his father hoped that by training him young, he will take over the business with confidence. unfortunately to him, dan heng wouldn’t conform. stuck between his love for music and his father’s ambitions, he became a rebellious spirit.
instead of attending the afternoon chess club, he stayed behind the school, staring out to the open fields. this is when he found you, kneeling by a patch of grass, poking away at a small dandelion that had grown. when you noticed the sound of his footsteps, you slowly turned around, looking up at him.
dan heng didn’t have the best reputation in class. although his grades reflected a great deal of achievements and discipline, he could be hot-headed at times. eager to defend, his fists do more of the talking. he figured that just like everyone else, you would be afraid of him. cower back in fear. or beg him to tutor you. whichever it was, he already came up with a million ways to respond.
you did none of that.
you only smiled imperfectly, showing him all of your baby teeth. there was no judgement nor fear within your eyes. nothing that could have possibly prepared him with the right words. he anticipated a fight. an adrenaline rush. something that would distract him from the painfully numbing life he had for himself.
it was simple. almost mundane. there was beauty in it. even after all these years, there wasn’t any other word he could use to describe your friendship. being by your side was a mixture of easy and frustrating. he liked watching cheesy, chick-flick movies with you. he hated having to clean the green dye off his jeans when you both laid on the grass. he liked seeing you smile every time you did well on an exam. he hated when you would cry in his arms, because it felt like he was letting you down.
although you’ve had your fair share of fights with dan heng, especially when it came to sunday, it never once rattled your friendship. your life, as complicated as it may sound sometimes, felt simple enough for him. he knew how to read you. he knew your nervous ticks. he knew what would get you riddled up. and he knew that would get you down. in a way, being with you felt like home to him, because you were more familiar than any parent he ever had.
when he heard you sing, everything changed for him. it was as if your song was the voice he needed to speak.
so even when it was his suggestion to start a band, its real creator had always been you. it was only dan heng’s selfish desire to continue hearing you sing that brought the group where it was. but it would have never started without your light.
“dan heng…”
“yes? (name)?”
he could barely make out your words beneath the low octave of your bass. “maybe i am a little afraid.” cautiously, you’re testing the waters. veiled in a casual practice setting, you slowly open the doors of your heart.
“what are you afraid of?” he doesn’t make a big show. he doesn’t stop the music. he only continues the only way he knows how.
“messing up. repeating things. ruining stuff.”
they’re messy chunks of emotional words minced together. you don’t know what you’re saying—let alone what you want to convey, but it's the first few things on your mind. you hate the idea of being someone else’s burden. you hate how insecure you are when it comes to other people. you hate how easy it is for you to get swallowed up. the list became endless and repetitive.
you thought everything would be fine in the comforts of this cage. you could graduate peacefully with your favorite people: dan heng, march 7th, and stelle. it didn’t cross your mind that you wanted someone new. however, the presence of phainon shattered this imaginary world. he came into your life like a rushing meteor, ready to crash land on earth.
now you’re stuck confronting your shadow. the same one that turned its back on sunday.
“when its just us two,” dan heng swallows, “do you feel this way?”
“no.”
you press your lips tightly together, still trying to pick at your brain for answers, “i think i’m afraid of phainon.” the words coming out of your mouth feel like needles. they prick at your nerves, creating an unnerving sensation that wouldn’t leave.
“are you afraid of him, or are you afraid of the feelings associated with someone new?” dan heng wants to say: are you running away, again? but he holds himself back. as your friend, he should be supportive and tentative. he’s always been this way—so have you.
you were always running away. even though its been four long years since you last saw sunday, you couldn’t shake the image of him. no amount of practice could wash away the invisible dirt on your skin–the same one you keep applying to yourself every night, hoping that if you keep punishing yourself enough times, to never forget the words you so carefully carved into his chest, it would be worth it.
“i don’t know,” the word yet holds heavy on your tongue. with your world turning upside down, you aren’t sure what the future holds. your friendship with phainon could be beautiful. he could break you out of your shell. however, despite his joyous smiles and excitable personality, he was no god. he could not rewrite what was wrong with you. and you’re afraid that the longer you stay with him, the closer you’ll get, and the harder it becomes to let go.
“maybe its not that big of a deal. and i’m making something out of nothing.”
“what do you want to do?” dan heng stops playing, giving you the space you need to finally speak your mind.
you close your eyes, allowing your bass to slow into a gentle, muted tune. it buzzes softer than traveling honey bees on a warm, spring afternoon.
“i want the show to go on.”
₊˚ෆ college au!phainon x vocalist!reader.
synopsis; on a dreary night, a nameless band and singer relieves phainon of his homesickness. determined to find her once more, their worlds collide when phainon realizes: his favorite vocalist is his classmate (name).
genres/warnings; smau, college au, classmates to lovers, profanity, timestamps don’t matter, photographs are non-representative of reader, fem!reader.
synopsis; on a dreary night, a nameless band and singer relieves phainon of his homesickness. determined to find her once more, their worlds collide when phainon realizes: his favorite vocalist is his classmate (name).
genres/warnings; smau, college au, classmates to lovers, profanity, timestamps don’t matter, photographs are non-representative of reader, fem!reader.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
surprisingly, talking to phainon was a lot more exciting than you initially anticipated. at first—he seemed like an overly enthusiastic boy, barking at any opportunity to speak about siraph. it was strangely endearing, you must admit, seeing him care so much about your stage persona, atlas. after a solid week of chatting, you think you’ve grown a little comfortable with his presence. sitting beside him in class wasn’t as daunting or nerve-wracking as you remembered. he was incredibly friendly and optimistic. it was blinding every time he walked into lecture with a bright smile, ready to greet you.
lowering your head, you stare down at your phone. a frown etches itself into your face. although you should be excited at the prospect of making new friends, it didn’t stop the ache in your heart from blossoming. it was a familiar pain. the kind that pokes at you at the dead of night.
it’s been a while since you saw sunday. you wonder what he was up to. pressing your knees up to your chest, you lay your head against them. considering all that you know, you assume he was studying. he was a diligent man. before everything crashed, he was preparing his thesis—waiting to be accepted into a graduate program at his dream college.
it feels strange thinking about him again. it’s been a long while—four years to be exact, and yet you remember his face as clearly as yesterday. it was as if he never left you in the first place. perhaps you have gotten too used to seeing the color of phainon’s hair, it brought back unnecessary memories of what once was. it wasn’t often you saw people with white hair before the age of fourty. yet somehow, phainon reminds you of that old flame.
closing your eyes, you lean back into your chair. it creeks beneath your weight.
out of the blue, your stomach starts to twist and churn in sickly ways. right now, you think you might be the worst. like scum at the bottom of the sink. everything should be fine. it was all in the past. but you resent the idea of never being able to change. you still imagine running your fingers through his hair as you used to, detangling all the knots that formed when he tossed in his sleep. you still think about the words you said that day, and how it still holds weight in your heart.
… you don’t know a thing about me.
your body shrinks at these words. you knew it was wrong. everything about you was wrong. you weren’t supposed to be like this—you swore you’ve changed for the better, but no matter how hard you try, every time you look in the mirror: you see the reflection of your former self. your eye color was still the same. you kept the same style of hair as you always did. nothing about you truly changed—has it? you were still the pitiful girl from high school, clinging onto a love you took for granted.
dan heng helped you correct some of your wrongs. he was a poor soul, you think to yourself, trying his best to fix the pieces you shattered. however, his soul was kind. it was clean. it was pretty, unlike yours. it cared more than you ever could have imagined. and you hate yourself for thinking you could stand on the same level as him—or anyone else for that matter.
there is an itch you’ve been dying to scratch. your muscles are tense and restless. opening your eyes, your body is immediately drawn to the bass at the corner of your room. slipping through its leather belt, you cradle your instrument—fingers lifting up to touch its delicate neck. everything falls into place easier than it should. gliding your fingers against the strings, you ease into a melody you’ve heard countless times.
“do you get me, yeah?”
stelle said this was her favorite song. you remember it very clearly—you originally performed this at your very first show, when you were just stepping your feet through the doors of show business. the rhythm was hypnotic. it kept roping you back into its arms. you were just the hopeless soul drawn to its call.
“do you get me from the other side?”
“afraid, i’m ‘bout to know you, as long as i could show you,” your breath feels hollow and light, like you hadn’t used it in a while. you try not to overthink the sound of your voice right now. it didn’t matter. not in this setting. not when you were in your most natural element. “my extinguished heart shatters, though it can’t be undone.”
you understand very well why stelle adores this song. it tugs at your heart strings more than you would have liked. the lyrics were profound. it speaks for you in ways you could only dream about. it was just a lucky time in your life that you found this in your suggested playlist. “... i wanna know ya, i wanna hold ya, i wanna see ya.”
“but you just fade away from me.”
right when you’re about to lose yourself, you are interrupted by a series of buzzing. blinking slowly, you lower your instrument, reaching out to hold your phone. on the screen, phainon was typing eagerly. his chat bubble was bobbing up and down like apples. it honestly surprises you as to how chatty this man is. it was no where near the same level as your previous classmates (who only used you for homework).
before you could continue chatting with phainon, you’re interrupted by your friends.
your eyes widen–looking at the clock on your wall, you realize its already nine o-clock. just an hour before you were supposed to perform on stage.
brushing through your hair with your fingers, you scratch the side of your temple. without wasting another second, you frantically type out a response to everybody.
you take in a deep breath—mentally preparing yourself for the next conversation. it would be awkward if you showed up to the bar with phainon. you should come up with an excuse for now. your mind is too busy being preoccupied about dan heng speeding to your apartment.
the ringing of your doorbell snaps you out of your stupor. running down the stairs with your case, you cram into dan heng’s car, huffing and sweating. he looks at you with a questionable expression, having raised one eyebrow over the other.
“are you okay?” dan heng keeps one hand on the steering wheel, ready to turn the car around if you even had a lick of concern. his acts softens your heart a little more. makes you feel guilty about having him drive you.
“yeah, i’m fine. i’m a little out of breath. lets hurry up and start driving, we don’t want to be late for the show.”
“out of breath? you look completely out of it right now,” he replies, staring at the roadside as his car begins to move. you could hear the careful purr of his engine hit the back of your ears. “if you need any water, theres a bottle beneath the seat.”
“you know me so well. sorry, i was a little preoccupied,” shoving your phone into your pocket, you forget about the messages between you and phainon. it could wait just a little longer. after reaching for the bottle of water, you sigh as cool water flows down your dry throat. “did you practice already?”
“i did a few hours ago. i had to stop by ghost town to check on their equipment, but everything should be working fine now. what about you? did you practice? or did you get distracted?” leave it to dan heng to be the most productive and well-put together man. performing on stage would have been more daunting without him.
you restrain yourself from huffing, “distracted? nah. i practiced. i did it two minutes ago.”
“i see.” he doesn’t sound all convinced. you were sure on the inside, he was itching to pull on your ear like a scolding mother. you should have trained your vocals a little more. you were about to go on stage for crying out loud.
silence encapsulates the two of you. dan heng, crazy as it may sound, does not play music in his car. perhaps it was psychopathic behavior. perhaps he was that focused on driving—but it made the atmosphere a mixture of both comfortable yet strange. you could barely hear the way he exhales through his nose. the tightening grip of the steering wheel as he makes a sharp turn.
his eyes meet yours, “about phainon…”
“what about him?”
dan heng shrugs his shoulders, “is he coming to the show tonight?”
“yeah. he sounded pretty excited about it.”
“i thought you didn’t tell him you were atlas. did you suddenly reveal it to him now?”
you flinch in response, hands shooting up to both of your cheeks. if there was an award for the most clueless person in the world, you might win first place. “i completely forgot about that. i just told him i had a stomach ache and wouldn’t make it tonight. what am i going to do now?”
“i think you and phainon share a lot more in common than you think,” dan heng rolls his eyes.
he can’t be surprised anymore. your airheadedness has always been something he fondly remembers since high school. you forget too easily. maybe this secret identity fiasco was a little too much for you to handle. the ridiculousness of it all makes him want to laugh just a bit. but for the sake of your dignity, he plays along.
your breath starts to come out a little short, “crap—is it too late to cancel the show right now?”
“now?” dan heng sighs, “you must be joking.”
“i am not!”
“you have to. your bass is in the backseat. i have my guitar. stelle and march 7th are waiting for us at ghost town already.”
“but…”
“no buts,” dan heng stops the car, parking in an empty spot at the back of the building. instead of letting you out (and off the hook), he hurriedly locks the doors. “do you remember what stelle said?”
“about?”
“trying new things,” he pauses for a short while, “maybe it’s wrong of me to say it… she does have a point. have you considered, maybe this is a good thing?” his words are as careful as ever. talking to you in this moment feels like a ticking bomb—and you aren’t sure how you feel about the ordeal.
“how?”
he taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “phainon is a huge fan of this band. a band that you created, might i add. since graduation, you haven’t talked to anyone else other than us. don’t you think it’s a good opportunity to meet someone new?”
his suggestion sounds like complete blasphemy to your ears. he makes everything sound too easy. too simple. like it was possible for you to erase everything that happened in the past. but you know deep down, this isn’t what dan heng is saying at all. you just can’t help but feel that way. “what if—”
“what if it ends the same way as before?” you hate how easy it is for dan heng to read you. call it a childhood friend instinct, or whatever it may be, it leaves a crater in your heart knowing his place of concern. dan heng looks at you with a serious expression. “you can’t be living your life in fear. not like this. and i don’t think phainon is the same guy as the one in your head.”
“how would you know?”
“i don’t,” he shrugs his shoulders, “but i’m not telling you to date the guy. i’m telling you to be friends with him.”
“that’s…” you look down at your lap, fiddling with the sides of your fingers. dan heng is right. he isn’t asking you to jump through hoops for phainon. you aren’t going to pack your bags and move in with him. you weren’t going to be same girl you were in high school—constantly dreaming of romance and the next big step. you were already living in your next big step. you just needed to push forward. to take that first move.
“if you really want to cancel the show, we can but… you can’t keep living like this. we’re going to graduate soon. and we’ll become grown adults. our life is going to be filled with boring jobs. it doesn’t hurt to live a little. even its just for now.”
his words gave you a little more peace than you would have imagined. you laugh, wiping the side of your eye, “stelle would say: do it for the plot, wouldn’t she?” saying her name now reminds you that you have a show.
“mhm.”
you look up at dan heng, eyes beaming with what he hopes to be a glimmer of optimism.
“we can continue the show.”
he smiles.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
dan heng holds out his hand towards you and you instinctive reach for it, allowing him to squeeze it tightly. the pain, as strange as it may sounds, tames your viciously beating heart. it cements you into this moment. there wasn’t anything else in this world that mattered more than this moment—this scene, this opportunity, to change for the better.
“if things don’t work out, i’m here for you.”
“you always will be.”
finally, after a long conversation, the two of you exit the vehicle. meeting up with stelle and march 7th, you apologize for making them worry. they’ve been anxiously waiting inside behind the curtains. the latter was tossing her drumsticks in the air, feet already bouncing to the song you’ve rehearsed before. stelle’s hair was as messy as she said it was, and you slide her the haricomb you kept in your bag.
with only a few minutes to spare until the curtains open, you look at them.
“it’ll be fine, right?”
march 7th grins. “of course! let’s get the show started!”
with those final words, the curtains open. you’re met with a familiar pair of blue eyes that you’ve seen countless times in class. the same ones that you were supposed to accompany tonight. you swallow a thick lump at the base of your throat, and your body instinctively locks up. he looks so different here. dressed in a white button up that just barely reveals the tattoo on the side of his throat, it was scarily attractive.
the thing that scared you most was the look on his face. it wasn’t betrayal—it was interest, like he had just seen a flightless bird take to the skies for the first time.
dan heng slightly elbows you from behind, and you raise your hand to the microphone.
“our first song of the night… will be siraph.”
perhaps it was just phainon’s imagination, but you look even more radiant tonight.
₊˚ෆ college au!phainon x vocalist!reader.
synopsis; on a dreary night, a nameless band and singer relieves phainon of his homesickness. determined to find her once more, their worlds collide when phainon realizes: his favorite vocalist is his classmate (name).
genres/warnings; smau, college au, classmates to lovers, profanity, timestamps don’t matter, photographs are non-representative of reader, fem!reader.
Hiii I'd like to ask for Dan Feng crumbs. Dan Feng x Reader but in corporate, with Dan Feng having a high position and reader is just some randomass worker.
They're married but hiding it so things don't have to be messy in the company but they slip up sometimes. Like accidentally grabbing each others employee card or smth
Just throw in some crack and some ✨imagination✨ THANK YOUUUU
Slip Ups
Dan Feng x Reader
You and Dan Feng are in cooperate. Uhm. Yeah
Warnings: Mentions of cheating (not for either of you)
Working in the same company as your spouse is completely fine and normal.
Working in the same company as your spouse when no one knows, on the other hand, is very difficult. Even more so when you’ve stayed with said spouse for so long you barely notice yourself doing things an average employee is not supposed to do with upper management.
Yes, your beautiful and precious husband, Dan Feng, managed to work his way up in the company and landed a spot on one of the best teams that works directly with the CEO. You’re very proud of his dedication and hard work. In fact, you encouraged him to keep going with his degrees just to make more money.
You were just an average employee. Not manager, not supervisor. None of it. Did you want to be? Absolutely not. You were not a fan of the attention. It was better to be in the background than to be in the spotlight, in all honesty. So long as you did your work, clocked out when needed, and minded your business, you’ll do it.
Sometimes you guys would slip up. I mean, it happens. You live together, you’re around each other a lot, so it should come as no surprise when you only realized you grabbed the wrong badge when you went to print something off and seeing your husband’s name instead.
Or when he would be down on your floor, go to your desk, take your coffee and go about his day. Oblivious to the stares that he got because you loved your coffee. You almost hit somebody over it too a few years ago but this man just snatched it right off your desk while you were sitting there.
You didn’t even flinch. You went to grab it, paused at the empty spot, and then just… kept working??? Hello?????
It also didn’t help that your floor was nosy. They gossiped and talked too much for your liking. So you had to be vigilant about being around each other. Don’t mess it up, don’t let people suspect you had something going on, stay low, stay quiet.
Email from: Dan Feng — Executive
What do you want for dinner?
You stared at your computer, the saxophones loud in your ears because one of your coworkers was talking to you about some TV show you couldn’t give less of a fuck of, and only stopped talking when they saw the email.
“Uhm,” they stared at you, “Why is Dr. Feng asking you about dinner?”
You could not, for the life of you, come up with a good excuse, “Because.”
“Because what?” They crossed their arms, their eyes narrowing in accusation.
You turned to them, “You can worry about my business when you give me the schedule I assigned to you three weeks ago.”
They sputtered, “I-I’m getting to it—“
“The amount of time you took to talk could’ve been used getting the schedule.”
“But—“
“Take the hint.” You watched as they sulked and went back to their desk. At least they were aware if they tried to gossip, you’d hold the fact they haven’t gotten work done over their head.
You typed on your computer.
Reply from: [ ] — Reviewer
You cannot email me on the work computers.
It didn’t take long for you to get a response.
Reply from: Dan Feng — Executive
Whoops.
You facepalmed, taking out your phone and texting him.
Damn him. You did tell them that.
Okay, sure. You both messed up a little bit, it wasn’t too noticeable unless someone was really paying attention. You could say low and discreet about everything.
It would’ve worked if Dan Feng hadn’t came down to your floor later that same day (again) and handed you a folder. “I need this done by the end of the week, dear—“
You quickly gave him a look, knowing he was going to call you one of those endearing names that he uses. You would’ve loved it otherwise. Just… not in this environment.
He, thankfully, took the hint and set the papers down on your desk. You sighed in relief when he left and surprisingly didn’t draw anymore attention to himself.
Alas, your little plan to stay hidden didn’t work as well as you both thought. Yes, yes, sure, you’ve been married for a few years now and worked at the company for a while now, but everybody else — specifically Dan Feng’s entire team — knew.
Honestly, they just loved to tease you both endlessly about it because you both were awful at hiding your relationship. The only reason it hasn’t gotten out to the other floors is because of them.
The boss knew. They’ve been known but they haven’t done anything because Dan Feng is good at his job and you keep your head down and do the work.
They definitely would’ve fired anybody else, but you both just got lucky. And plus, the boss knows you didn’t want to start anything anyway.
Which is why it was so funny when an entire cheating scandal was going on at your floor for several weeks, causing work to pile up. You did your part, of course, and helped your coworkers, who minded their business, with theirs too.
You just didn’t expect to get caught up in said scandal
“So who are you cheating on me with, huh?!” One of the workers shouted at her partner, clearly furious. Even more so when he’s been stuttering and lying this entire time. It was pathetic to watch.
“Like you even know—“
“No! I know it’s someone in the company so who?! Huh?!”
The man pointed at you, of all people, “They’re obviously a better girlfriend than you! All you do stalk me constantly and you’re just a bitch all the time!”
You pointed at yourself.
You???? What did you do?????
The woman turned her anger on you, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
You outright laughed at both of them, “I don’t even talk to him.”
“Don’t even bother lying right now—“
You held up your left hand, “I’m married.”
Silence. Crickets. Everyone stared at you like you’ve grow a second head. This is only of the only times being married was a benefit. The other times it becomes a headache because your husband is like that best friend that you’re so close with they annoy the hell out of you despite the fact you love them a lot.
The woman pointed at the man, “You just lied to me again!”
“I-I didn’t— They cheated with me—!”
“Why are you all yelling?” And the devil shall appear. You twisted in your swivel chair, gesturing a hand over, “Hubby.”
Dan Feng raised a brow but went along with it anyway, “Wife.”
Everyone gaped again.
“But seriously.” He stared at the commotion, “I can hear you two floors up. We’re backed up on work, I don’t need to know who cheated on what. Just get your stuff done and turned in.”
Not like his words mattered anyway because that next week? Everybody who was behind on work for over three weeks were laid off— let go— fired.
Thank goodness you had your husband vouch for you. Well, you vouched for yourself and the boss could see the work you’ve already turned in, but still.
Those workers got replaced, and the office was quiet for once. It was heavenly.
Now you can be as unhinged as you want.
Dan Feng threw his phone across the room, his face dusted in red. His team whipped their heads at the sound, everybody very much concerned.
“You good?” Yingxing asked.
“Fine.” He strained.
That was not a slip up
A/N: LMAOOOO THAT WAS HILARIOUS I LOVE EXPERIMENTING
Ik it's April Fools.... But make it believable! Imagine how it would look like if I said I am divorcing Jing or Sunny!
Besides.... Don't be mean to Phainon! 😭 Seeing his reaction to someone saying such a thing would be amusing LOL
“HAHAHA...!” the man clutches his stomach, strands of silver-blue fly as he throws back his head.
“Oh... Oh my—” a wheeze seizes his lungs, hitched halfway through as he catches a glimpse of your unimpressed stare through the tears in his eyes.
He can't stop the giggle that slips out, “Oh dear Kephale—! You almost got me there!
But there's not even a twitch in your expression, not even a shift in your crossed arms.
“You are so funny, baby.” he pokes your cheek, grinning. “But can you give me that smile I love so much now?” praying to the Titans to not give into the tremble in his fingers.
You have exceptional acting skills — or at least, he hopes you are acting — P*ain*n realizes when the grave frown on your face still doesn't budge, not when he pokes your cheek again, not when he pinches it hard.
“Baby, I know you were just joking.” he drops his hands to grasp your shoulders, “Say sike right now?”
It's as though someone has taken Dawnmaker and churned the insides of his stomach with it when you remain silent, refuse to recant that you don't love him anymore.
“Please...?” his nails dig into your shoulders, all the energy sapped out of his bones as he clings to you.
And then, the worst of his fears surfaces from the pits of his anxious thoughts.
“Moonbeam.” there's a crack in the endearment, “Honeycakes, this isn't funny, you know? You're scaring me.” he forces himself to gulp a sharp breath.
“But! But I know you didn't mean it— so, so,” he takes a deep, deep breath in the curve of your neck. “Can you just take it back?”
Take it back before I lose my mind, take it back before I do something stupid, take it back before I set everything here up in flames. Take me back, take me back, take me back—
But you don't even react to his nails tearing at your sleeves, eyes set somewhere far away, somewhere he can't reach.
He breaks, not with a scream, but with a slow, simmering exhale that makes the air bend under its heat, its displeasure.
Beads of sweat roll down from your temple to your nape, where his silver hair brushes past, turning to gold with every second.
You gasp when he lets go of your shoulders suddenly, but when he pivots to seize you by the waist in a death-grip instead, it hurls the air out of your lungs.
And when you find the leeway to glance up, engulfed beneath the shadows of wings unfurling in a brilliant show of gold and indigo, and a very, very, angry Khaslana glaring daggers at your soul?
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phainon swore, from the bottom of his heart and on mydei’s mother, he turned on the right alarm. in a twisted turn of events, his phone had silently gone off in his sleep. without a second to waste, he jumps out of bed, throwing on the first thing he sees on his table: a bright orange hoodie and purple sweats. too busy rushing to his car, he leaves his hair uncombed. the glasses he threw on were just a few centimeters away from falling off his nose. in the heat of the moment, he completely forgot about mydei standing in the kitchen, holding up his share of pancakes. the promise of breakfast will have to wait next time.
phainon almost risks a speeding ticket before he finally makes it to his class. with an exhausted huff, he opens the door and is surprised to see only one person in the room: his seatmate, (name). sighing in a mixture of relief and frustration, he walks towards his seat. it was strange to have a seatmate in college, but his professor preferred assigned seating for attendance. scratching the back of his neck, phainon hurriedly runs his finger through his hair, brushing down as much fluff as he can before sitting down next to you.
even after placing his laptop down, you still hadn’t looked up from your phone. phainon could hear your earbuds emit a soft buzzing sound. trying not to disturb you, he opens his laptop, scrolling through some of the old assignments and readings.
now that he had time to think, he realized how horrid his luck was.
not only did his alarm not go off this morning, he rushed to class for no reason at all. in his panicked stupor, he thought he was already late to class. rubbing the side of his temple, he groans to himself, trying to ease the headache that was beginning to bloom. his eyes were still fighting away the drowsiness he felt earlier. turning his head to the side, he sees your eyes still glued to your phone.
laying his chin against the palm of his hand, he can’t help but stare. what kind of song were you listening to? he could barely make out anything from his side. phainon knows, deep down, he was a nosy person, however, it’s just instinct for him. he couldn’t stop himself from trying to know everything.
to distract himself from his impulsive thoughts, he opens up his phone, hoping to talk to one of his friends. at this hour, there were only two people who should be awake: mydei and cyrene. the former is usually awake for his early gym workout. the latter is busy writing her thesis.
after a while, his eyes flicker back to you.
although you’ve never crossed paths with him outside of class, your presence is awfully familiar and comforting. the words, have we met before? lay right on the tip of his tongue. unknown to phainon, you have been fidgeting in your seat for a while now. you rub the side of your phone with the edge of your finger, hoping to steel your nerves against your painfully obvious seatmate whose staring problem has not gone away.
after a full minute of silence, you finally take out one earbud, looking up at him with a flustered look.
“sorry, is my music too loud?”
the soft buzzing finally turns into audible music, and phainon hears a familiar sound—the bassline that resonated in his nerves, the words of a woman he has been dreaming about every night, the feeling of homesickness that washes away… he thinks he found heaven itself. phainon’s eyes widen with every second he hears that melody.
he points to your earbud, “that song, who made it?”
“huh?”
“i heard that song before but i didn’t catch the name of the band!” phainon explains, still trying to rope his thoughts into one cohesive sentence. “can you please tell me their name?”
he sees the corner of your lips lift into a careful smile. you found the moment out of place, but somewhat endearing. “the band’s name is called siraph. where have you heard them?”
“i went to ghost town bar the other day! i was there for their performance, and i really liked the music they made. i’ve been trying to find them online…” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck–a nervous tick he developed as a young child, “by the way, where are you streaming this song?”
“umm…” you awkwardly tilt your phone downwards, “my friend… is in that band. they send me their recorded songs sometimes. the band doesn’t upload to streaming platforms, so that might explain why you couldn’t find them.”
“so, you have the only copy?”
“i guess so…”
phainon stares intensely in your direction. he isn’t saying anything directly yet you can see it in his eyes: the hunger that comes from a starved man, a plea that was reflecting off the tops of his iris, he desperately wanted a copy of that song. you do everything in your power not to sigh in front of him. if dan heng was here, he would have easily said no. luckily for phainon, you were not dan heng.
underneath the pressure, you start to cave in, “do you… want me to send it to you?”
“you would do that?” his excitement was truly puppy-like. if he had a tail, it would be wagging by now, shaking against the cheap chairs that the classroom lined itself with.
“it looks like you wanted it really badly…”
phainon quickly pulls out his phone, gesturing for you to lift yours as well. with a gentle tap to each other’s devices, your contact is quickly shared with the snowy-haired man. after a few seconds of typing, phainon’s phone buzzes and he sees a file message from you. after a quick ‘thank you,’ he doesn’t waste any time in taking out his airpods (there was still time before class started) and plays the recording.
he is happy to hear the same bass as before, the one that has been playing in the back of his head more often than not. maybe even to an embarrassing amount. though, what strikes him as odd was the woman’s voice today. perhaps it was just the recording–the way it was slightly grainy but clear enough to make out the enunciations. phainon turns his head to the side, seeing you fidget with your phone. from his angle, it was clear you were avoiding his gaze.
phainon could be dumb at times. like when he accidentally used protein powder in mydei’s waffle maker, causing the machine to get clogged with goopy, half-stirred dust. however, if there was one thing he was good at recognizing: it was people’s behavior.
oh my god, he thought to himself, (name) is the vocalist to his new favorite band, siraph.
₊˚ෆ college au!phainon x vocalist!reader.
synopsis; on a dreary night, a nameless band and singer relieves phainon of his homesickness. determined to find her once more, their worlds collide when phainon realizes: his favorite vocalist is his classmate (name).
genres/warnings; smau, college au, classmates to lovers, profanity, timestamps don’t matter, photographs are non-representative of reader, fem!reader.
If you've clicked here, I'd like to talk a bit about the horrendous new feature Tumblr has implemented. It's basically a big middle finger to all the creatives on this site. Through this feature, the OP will no longer receive notes gained via the reblogs of a post, only the reblogger will get them. The gained notes won't be added to the original post's notes-count either. This person explains it best:
I thought that I should talk about this issue here, as, making The Phainon Handbook was largely for the objective of helping creatives. I can't really help them when the platform is on fire, can I?
So, what can you do?
1. Send a feedback form via this link.
2. Comment under on the reblog/reply to the reblog made by @changes
3. Give Tumblr one star rating in the App Store. If the rating goes down, they might roll back.
4. They aren't fully committed to rolling back this crappy feature! Take breaks and continue talking about it. Just for the fun of bullying a corporation if nothing else kekw
5. And just to be safe, try to reblog fanarts/fics from the OP always from now on.
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton
stormborns
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
gummygunk
