#there’s only one crack that’s kind of in my way while drawing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonchildstyles · 2 months ago

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bardot

y/n is an aspiring model, and harry just might be the person that could help her

wordcount: 12.5k+

this is a patreon exclusive, with every part after this one only available on my page!

—————

A chill touched the base of (Y/N)'s spine as she padded over the cracked tiles lining her kitchen floor. It was enough of a disturbance to cause a pinch in her brows, though she still couldn't manage to peel her eyes open more than a crack. If not for the fact that she had to run a couple of errands before her shift tonight, she wouldn't even be awake at the moment.

Working through that fatigue, she rubbed her eyes as she reached for the box of Cheerios on the top of her fridge. Her movements were lethargic as she made her breakfast, taking her time as she attempted to wake up despite the late night she'd had, closing the restaurant. Before sitting down with her cereal, she made a point to draw open her curtains, allowing bright beams of sunlight to filter through her apartment, a tactic she opened would wake her up.

Feeling the warmth on her skin, her tired eyes fluttering against the bright light, it was all something she was still getting used to. The California sun was still so novel to her compared to the weather she'd grown up with back home. Though she missed the multitude of sweaters she'd left behind at her parents' home, she would trade those knits to get this kind of sunlight any day.

(Y/N) pulled in a deep breath, imagining the specks of sunlight bumbling through her lungs. It didn't feel so bad then to sit down with her breakfast, a selection of new, glossy magazines sitting in the middle of her coffee table—a gift from herself after getting through her shift the night before.

Spooning a bite to her mouth, she picked up the first magazine with VOGUE stamped across the top. The cover held a glimmering photograph of a woman draped in a brightly colored dress, her hair teased high, and the kind of makeup (Y/N) had attempted to achieve in her bathroom mirror—though it never turned out as clean. The headlines had printings about the best summer pieces to have to get that "California Style", along with spreads about the new "Paris Chic" and the best eye makeup for your eye color.

This was her morning news. Everything she wanted to know was between the glossy pages, every photograph a part of her morning routine. Flicking through, (Y/N) admired the models printed on the pages, each of them exceptionally beautiful and holding a kind of poise she wondered also ran through their real lives.

Did Jean Shrimpton always look that perfect? Was Donyale Luna even able to leave the house without someone stopping her for just a momentary look at her cheekbones? Did any of these women ever admire themselves on the page the way (Y/N) did?

Though she skimmed the articles as she went, she no doubt had eyes for the photos themselves. If she squinted hard enough, she could almost see herself instead of the leggy body on the page.

After finishing off her cereal, she flipped the page just as she began to rise to tow her dishes to the sink, though the ad on page had her lagging for just a moment.

Corseted into an hourglass shape, complete with a puffy bunny tail and a set of ears on her head, was a woman with blonde hair teased high holding a silver serving tray. Black stockings molded around her legs, showing off the curves like the smile on her lips. Beneath her was a bold black font, detailing the opening of a new club in Los Angeles.

Playboy.

(Y/N) was familiar with the branding and the general idea behind the company, but it wasn't something she gave more than a passing thought most of the time. It was never something that really appealed to her, piquing nothing more than her curiosity over how many models—well known and hidden, alike—had been able to feel that kind of confidence to be able to pose the way they did. While she'd never seen anything for herself, there was always the talk about the centerfolds of the magazines, and what exactly was sandwiched between the pages.

It was definitely a departure from the kinds of modeling she had pictured for herself when she made the move out to the west coast in the first place, but she wondered, while looking at the corseted woman, what it could feel like to be in that spot. Would the confidence come naturally? Would the perfect posture and the perfect smile come on instinct, or were those women directed and directed until they were what the men around her told her would sell?

She couldn't be sure, the idea being too much for her to figure out since she hadn't even been on a set herself yet. She didn't know what it would be like to have a real photographer put their camera in her face normally, let alone with only the smallest amount of clothing on her body.

Casting one more glance at the page, she rose from her spot on the couch to take her dishes to the sink. With the corseted woman out of sight and out of mind, (Y/N) was instead distracted by the calendar pinned to the wall beside her sink. Today's slot was marked with all of the day's errands as well as her shift time, though she was distracted by the following day.

There wasn't anything particularly special marking the space, but it would commemorate the six month anniversary of her official move to California.

If she thought too hard about it, she would focus on the lack of auditions she'd been on after the move, the zero number of scouts that had seen her on the street and begged her to join their agency, the amount of times she wondered if she had actually made the right decision when she asked her parents to help her pack up and move across the country.

Instead, she reminded herself of the same thing she always did when all of the change had become overwhelming: just because it hasn't happened for her yet, doesn't mean it never will.

She was an optimist at heart, and she would continue to be optimistic about her future in this city. One day she would be plastered on a billboard, or showcasing a new Maybelline mascara with her eyes fluttering in a commercial. She could even find her way to Vogue someday.

For all she knew, today could be the start of her big break.

—————

"Thank you for covering, Gabby!"

As soon as (Y/N) stepped out into the makeshift break room in the alley behind the restaurant for her lunch break, the bubbly smile on her lips fell. Closing shifts always took the breath out of her, especially during the dinner rush on Friday nights like this.

These thirty minutes away, hiding in the back alley at one of the small tables set up in lieu of a proper break room, was precious to her. Despite just how loud the restaurant was, the sound overspilling into the alley, the space was just removed enough to help her brain quiet down for the time being. As much as (Y/N) loved the way her body looked and the way her legs seemed to stretch on for miles when she slipped on high heels, there would never be anything that could rival the relieved feeling that came with slipping them off for even just a few minutes during this time away.

Leaving her feet only loosely in her shoes, she didn't waste any more of her break time, pulling out her packed sandwich and the bottle of apple juice she brought for her dinner. She had tucked a small magazine into her purse, but the thought of adding anything extra to her head at the moment wasn't appealing. Instead, she listened to the overflow of conversation from the server's station just by the swinging door of the alley as if it were a program from her television set.

Just as usual, she heard some of her coworkers debating over if there were any familiar faces seated in the dining room for the night. It wasn't unusual for famous patrons to take a seat for dinner with them, though (Y/N) highly doubted Elizabeth Taylor was currently at the bar, but the debate of whether or not one of the waiters should approach her and ask if he could be in her next movie (or next husband) was enough to bring a smile to her face between her bites of dinner.

By the time she emptied her bottle of apple juice and had her lunch reduced to a few crumbs, the server's station had been cleared out with the only noise of the kitchen filtering out to the alley and keeping her comfortable. Just as she moved to pack everything away, her ears perked at the sound of quick footsteps heading outside to join her. Peering over her shoulder, (Y/N) just caught the way Misty, one of the hostesses she was closer with, all but barreled out onto the pavement.

It didn't take very long to spot the difference in Misty's demeanor with the way she didn't seem to notice (Y/N) was out there at all, instead immediately beginning to pace before the door with her heels clicking over the pavement. There must have been a conversation going on in her head with the way she flapped her hands before her like a talk show host, and the silent muttering of her lips. As far as (Y/N) knew, Misty's break wasn't scheduled for another hour, even.

"Mist?" (Y/N) prodded in a gentle voice, "Is everything okay?"

Stopping in her tracks with a stutter to her steps, Misty looked to her with wide brown eyes and a hand to her throat. "Oh my god, you scared me."

"Sorry," (Y/N) offered with a cautious smile, "Are you okay? You seem really freaked."

"Yeah," Misty said, though she was less than convincing with her response, "Did you see my sister came in?"

(Y/N) nodded, looking up at her friend from where she sat at the wobbly wrought iron table. "Is she okay?"

Misty's shaken demeanor shifted then as she rolled her eyes, heaving a big sigh. "She's fine," she started, irritated, "just stupid. We were supposed to go to this party tomorrow night in the hills, but she's bailing on me so she can meet up with her ex. They're going to 'work it out', apparently."

"Wait, the one that cheated with your cousin?" (Y/N)'s brows furrowed, with her mouth dropping into a gape. It couldn't be that ex, right?

"That's the one," Misty chirped, also less than impressed with her sister's choosing, "I know, she's being an idiot but not even my mom was able to talk her out of it. But, she was going to be my ride tomorrow, and go with me so I wasn't alone."

(Y/N)'s face fell when she heard how dejected Misty sounded. While she didn't know much about this party in "the hills", she was sure that hearing about her sister's reconciliation with a terrible ex—and that she would rather hang out with a cheater than Misty herself—was more than enough to get her down.

"I'm sorry, Mist," (Y/N) said, her eyes softening with her lips falling into a pout, "It's not fair to leave you hanging like that."

Settling some, Misty took the chair across from (Y/N) offering a small smile. "It's okay," she shrugged, "It's just frustrating. She knows this party is important to me, but she's going to go see some guy that cheated on her, instead."

"That sucks," (Y/N) interjected, sure her friend wasn't looking for a solution more than she wanted to vent at the moment, "Is it a birthday party, or?"

Misty shook her head, her long black hair wisping over her shoulder, "It's an industry party. One of my friend's has an older sister who works across the street from this office that has a bunch of these music people. Apparently there's a big party happening tomorrow night at some executive's house, and she was able to get me and my sister an invite, but now I don't know if I'm even going to be able to make it there."

(Y/N)'s lips thinned, her eyes falling to the latticed surface of the table where she fiddled with the strap of her purse. An idea pinged through her head, though she was more than unsure of voicing it.

She'd never been to an industry party before, but there was a first time for everything—especially if it meant she could help her friend. If she was lucky, there might be even a few people she could get to know, other models or someone that could help in her own dreams.

"I—" she started, catching her tongue when she was unsure of her next words. Flicking her eyes up to Misty, where it was clear on her face just how hard she was thinking about whatever plan she could conjure for the next twenty-four hours, (Y/N) tried again. "Okay—um—stop me if I'm doing too much, but I... If you want, I could go with you? Just so you wouldn't be alone, and I could drive you up, and everything. I don't want you to miss this if you think you'll be able to meet someone that could help you with your singing, but don't feel like you have to take me. If you can't find anyone else, just know I'm willing."

Feeling herself rambling, (Y/N) forced herself to zip her lips in favor of watching for Misty's reaction.

"Wait, really?" Misty said, a bubbling lilt to her voice, "You'd drive and everything, even though it's kind of far away? You don't, like, work tomorrow or anything?"

Her rapid fire questions did little to hide the light that sparkled in her eyes and the smile that crept on her lips. (Y/N) only shrugged, feeling herself light up. "I work tomorrow night, but I should be home with enough time to get ready as long as we don't have to be there too early."

The giggling squeal that left Misty's lips had (Y/N) letting out her own laugh just before her friend reached for her hands across the table. "(Y/N)! Thank you so much—I would love to have you come with me! We're going to have so much fun, thank you!"

(Y/N) felt herself perking up, matching Misty's energy as she squeezed her hands. "I'm so excited, thank you," she bubbled.

The dejection she came out with had melted away leaving room for her to be back to her bubbling, loud self that ran the front of the restaurant. "No, no, thank you! Really, there's going to be so many people there—important people—this could be really good for us. And now, we both get to go!"

Despite feeling a little nervous, accepting an invite to a place she'd never been before along with the host being someone she had no real connection to, (Y/N) couldn't help but to feel a warmth in her stomach over the kind of luck she'd stumbled into tonight. While she was sure there was going to be majority of people from the music world in attendance—people who were going to be important to Misty and her dreams of having a singing career—there has to be at least a couple of people who knew someone who could help her encroach on her own modeling aspirations.

The remainder of her lunch time (as well as Misty's impromptu break from her hostess duties) was spent ironing out the details of the next day. A to-do list came together in (Y/N)'s head, starting with raiding her closet as soon as she made it back to her apartment tonight, hoping she could find something in the back of the racks that might be suitable for the kind of party Misty was describing to her. She couldn't wait to force a map into Misty's hands to navigate them to the hills she kept mentioning.

"I heard there might be valet there, but I don't know if that's true or just something Angelica—"

"(Y/N), do you know where Mist—Oh, there you are," Marcus, one of the waiters, said, popping his head out into the alley, "I know you took a fifteen, but we need your help."

Misty deflated at the request of her presence, a pout itching to settle on her lips. "I'll be up in a second."

"Okay. Molly's drowning right now, though, so be fast."

Before he could catch the roll of Misty's eyes, Marcus disappeared back into the bustling restaurant.

Turning to (Y/N), Misty started for the door, standing from her spot across from her friend. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? We'll figure out what we're wearing, and I'll tell you the exact address when I get the note back from my sister."

"Okay," (Y/N) smiled, eyes following her friend as she approached the door, "Thank you again, Misty—I'm really excited."

She paused in the doorway, one foot inside the restaurant with the other in the alley. "Me too. See you in there."

With a wave, Misty slipped inside the restaurant leaving (Y/N) with a remaining five minutes alone.

She quietly packed up with a smile on her face. By the time she slipped her feet back into her heels, the pain in her arches didn't feel so bad.

For all she knew, tomorrow night could be the start of her big break.

—————

The waning summer sunlight reflected off the silver sequins decorating (Y/N)'s dress as she drove to Misty's. With the open back of the garment, the cool leather of the seat pressed into her back. The feeling had her hearkening back to the last few times she'd worn this dress, to a handful of auditions she went on before realizing that agencies didn't really want to see a cocktail dress on a potential employee at ten a.m. The patent white leather of her thigh high boots squeaked as she shifted in her spot, her eyes peering through the windshield at each passing street sign marking the unfamiliar neighbourhood.

Coming to a slow stop at the curb, (Y/N) checked the map she had splayed on the passenger seat and the note with Misty's address half a dozen times, comparing it to the powder blue house she pulled up in front of. Hopefully, she'd made it to the right house.

Putting the car in park, fluffing her hair one more time, (Y/N) stepped out onto the warm pavement. The sunset reflected pink across the silver of her dress, warming her skin as if she were under the flashes of dozens of cameras.

Scaling the driveway to Misty's home, she had her eyes on the door, catching the way the knob spun before (Y/N) even made it to the porch. Misty waved to someone behind her, the length of her hair swishing at her waist as she spun around to face (Y/N) with a bright smile. A rich red dress hugged her figure, the halter top neckline framing the slide of her neck and the cut towards her cleavage. Her heels clicked with every step she took over the concrete towards (Y/N), glimmering makeup sparking on her eyelids.

Misty forged ahead, pulling (Y/N) in for a giddy hug that had her wobbly in her boots. "Hi! How are you? Are you excited? You look so pretty!"

(Y/N) laughed at the onslaught of questions, falling in line with Misty as she headed towards the car parked at the curb. "I'm good—excited! You look really pretty, too, thank you! I've never seen your hair down like this."

To make a show of it, she flipped a hand through her hair with a smile on her lips. "Tonight could be the night, (Y/N)—had to pull out all the stops."

Laughing, she followed after Misty as she started towards the car. Misty's confidence was contagious, enough to spread to (Y/N) as she settled in behind the wheel, sliding a pair of sunglasses on the line of her nose.

As they drove towards the hills, a map splayed out in Misty's lap, they had the windows cranked down with the radio up. (Y/N) couldn't help but to sing along with the selection going through her speakers, ranging from the croons from The Zombies to belting tones from The Supremes.

She was going to a party in the Hollywood Hills! A party where, if she's lucky enough, she could end up on the billboards they were driving past. Even if that didn't happen, she would still be fulfilling a part of her dream when she moved out here in the first place—getting to see places she'd only ever seen in movies or on the glossy pages of her magazines.

"What do you think it's going to be like?" (Y/N) asked, shouting over the whipping wind and beats from James Brown.

"Hm?" Misty hummed, looking back from where she had been gazing out the window, "The party?"

"Yeah. You said there'll be lots of music kinds of people, right? Do you think we'll see anyone we know?"

Misty shrugged, a beaming smile. "Maybe—hopefully! Angelica called me this morning and said there's supposed to be a lot of executives, so I don't know if we'll see any singers, but we'll meet the people who made the singers! How exciting is that?!"

(Y/N), even through fleeting glances, could spot the excitement in Misty's gaze. While modeling (maybe even movies, if she was lucky enough) was (Y/N)'s dream, she was more than okay with being there for Misty as they rubbed elbows with the people that made possible all the music they were listening to now.

In between giving directions, Misty happily chattered away about all of the different hopes she had for the soiree. Outside, the sun sunk low in the sky before disappearing by the time they entered the hills. The world around them changed from the lengths of highway to the beachy suburbs of the coast, all the way until the Hollywood Hills surrounded them. With the windows up and the radio ticked down just enough, both she and Misty left their attention to the gorgeous homes that now popped up around them like clean white roses. Everything was made of strategic, precise lines, creamy and bright against all of the greenery planted around them. Cars she'd only seen in movies were parked outside the garages, painted in pale colors with chrome accents that gleamed under the waning light.

The sight reminded her of the Saturday morning episodes of the Jetsons she used to catch back at home as a girl. Seeing nothing more than the structures, she felt as if she were already meeting a handful of celebrities.

After a final set of directions muttered off by Misty, (Y/N) turned onto a long stretching street. Before, while the houses were modern and clean, these were nothing short of extravagant. They were much further spaced out, gates planted before the driveways with plenty of greenery to help give even more privacy to whoever lived behind the walls.

"It should be on the left, I think," Misty muttered, her own gaze glossed out as she took in the homes around them.

(Y/N) silently nodded her head, pushing her sunglasses to sit on the top of her head. Peering to the left, she didn't have to peek at the numbers posted on the gates to know what home was where the party was being hosted. It was the only building with bright lights peeking through the greenery, reflecting through the darkening sky. While the rest of the street seemed to be luxuriating in quiet privacy, this one was beaconing those around them to come closer.

"This one?" (Y/N) asked, slowing as they approached the open driveway.

"This one," Misty smiled, giddy in her seat.

Turning in, (Y/N) found the biggest mansion she could have imagined to be shrouded behind the palms and draping vines planted along the perimeter. It was just as pristine as the others they'd seen before, new and perfect, but on a scale she couldn't imagine knowing what to do with. A dome thatched in glimmering bronze bisected the mansion, a large window cut out on what had to be the third floor of the home, showcasing a crystalline chandelier for all to see. Creamy lines made out the rest of the structure, cookie-cutter windows giving glimpses into the spaces inside. More greenery made its way closer to the structure in the form of pruned hedges, climbing flower bushes, and postcard perfect palm trees.

The rumor of there being valet at this soiree had turned out to be complete truth as (Y/N) drove further up the drive. Her hands grew clammy around the wheel.

"What do I do?" she rushed out to Misty, taking her foot off the gas to buy herself time.

"What do you mean? What?" Misty answered, knocked out of her own admiration of the space.

"The valet," (Y/N) said, slightly panicked, "Are they actually going to take the car?"

Misty seemed to finally notice the man clad in a simple black outfit stationed at the front dome, bored as he peered at the slowly approaching car on the drive. "Oh. I don't know. Do you keep the car on or just give them the keys?"

"I don't know," (Y/N) parroted, words bubbling off as she ran out of time the closer they drew to the dome, "I've never done this before!"

Before either of them had a chance to attempt to thread together a game plan, (Y/N) heavily stepped on the brake, stopping them at the front door. The valet made no move to greet them, standing at his station with a pleasant expression on his face as he waited. With clumsy movements, (Y/N) pulls her keys out of the ignition, and plucked her purse from beside her feet. Misty followed with the same amount of haste, both of them practically stumbling out of the car towards the waiting valet that looked on with surprise raising his brows.

"Hi," (Y/N) greeted, just barely remembering the sunglasses pinning her hair back on her head. She snatched them off, tucking them into her purse.

"Good evening, ladies," the valet responded, taking in their stumble, "How are you?"

"We're alright, thank you," Misty piped up, peering around the valet to get a peek into the home behind him, "And yourself?"

"I'm doing swell myself, thank you," he beamed, holding a hand out expectantly towards (Y/N), "How do you know the host?"

While he had a pleasant smile on his face as he took her keys, (Y/N) was sure he was well aware of how little they fit in within this space. She couldn't blame him for assuming there was a chance they weren't supposed to be here, if their stumbling and her less than trendy car was anything to go by.

"We work with him," Misty piped up, clearly preferring to bypass the roundabout way that she knew the host through three different people.

"Oh, yeah?" he prodded, brows bouncing above his eyes, "At the office or the studio?"

"The office," Misty clarified without a second thought.

The valet took her answer with a slow nod, palming (Y/N)'s keys before asking for her name and bidding them a good night once they were on the list. With that, he left the double doors behind him unattended. Misty grabbed (Y/N)'s hand who stumbled into step beside her, her gaze shot over her shoulder to watch as the valet took in the vast difference between her car and the others he'd already attended to throughout the night.

Pushing through the double doors, (Y/N)'s expectations for the inside of this mansion were blown out of the water. One of a kind art canvases were hung up on the walls, beautifully crafted vases and sculptures displayed through the halls, along with the extravagant chandelier hanging above their heads. This place felt straight out of a movie, perfect like a Normal Rockwell painting.

The deeper Misty walked them through the space, she took in the overflow of guests spread throughout the home. She'd never seen so many different sitting rooms, with so many different people. In the main space just off from the foyer was cleared out, leaving space for a bar being professionally tended and room for plenty of young women to dance along to the records spinning on the player with drinks in hand. Too many older men were placed along the perimeter doing nothing more than watching them.

"Um," Misty started, voice raised high enough to be heard over the different radios and gramophones playing, "I'm going to try to find my friend and her sister, and the host, but you don't have to come with me if you want to get a drink."

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she steeled her grip on Misty's hand. There was no way Misty was going to be able to lose her that quickly. "No, I'll go with you."

"Are you sure?" Misty asked, bouncing her brows above her eyes.

(Y/N) gave a nod, shooting her friend a look with a glance towards the men prowling around the young women. Misty seemed to catch her drift then, more than alright with (Y/N) tagging along.

While Misty was on the lookout for familiar faces, (Y/N) was happily pulled along with her curious gaze spread out to every branching hallway and living area. While the room with the women dancing around was the life of the soiree, there were other areas that looked as if they were board meetings plucked right out of the city complete with men dressed in suits, lounging with cigars in smoky rooms. Trays with food were being passed about in the hands of staff dressed in similar all black outfits as the valet out front.

She barely had a chance to settle her eyes on a single person or scene before something just as bright and bold called her attention away. Misty surged forward with their hands still clasped until they reached the glass door leading to the backyard.

If she had thought the inside of the mansion was wild, not even the drunken bar room had anything on the backyard.

With a shimmering pool setting the scene, there seemed to be a rule that only the prettiest of attendees were allowed in the grassy space. It only took a pair of steps out onto the patio for (Y/N) to feel like she had never actually seen Los Angeles before this moment. Her mouth was set agape as Misty dragged her along, heading towards a grouping of men (Y/N) barely glanced at when there was so much else around to steal attention.

A bar was stationed outside as well, though it looked much less professional than what was inside. Whoever wanted a drink was free to grab whatever, including the whole bottle if they so choose, with no one to bat an eye. More than a few people floated about the pool, some fully clothed while others were covered with only the help of the refractions glowing through the water. Drunken conversations were held between those about the lip of the pool, some wobbling close to the edge though they only laughed when the stumbles occurred.

Everything appeared entirely too glamorous to be real. The women's hair was too perfect, the men too picturesque. This was what shindigs in the Hills were like?

Suddenly Misty's voice piped up, having taken the straight to the grouping of businessmen she had eyed as soon as they made it out the door. "Hi! Mr. Vitacoma?"

Facing forward, (Y/N) watched as a tall man with broad shoulders turned around to face Misty, brows in a pinch. "That's me," he started, eyes visibly brightening when he took in who exactly it was that had approached him, "How can I help you?"

Misty's bright voice became a mumble as she introduced herself, and thanked this man for hosting the party. A conversation started, Mr. Vitacoma asking how exactly they were connected and how she'd found herself at his soiree. From what she was collecting, this man was some kind of executive at a record label, tonight's party being a "just because" occasion, and of course, he was so happy to have such a beautiful woman like Misty in attendance.

(Y/N) was vaguely aware of Misty's voice pattering on with confidence, though her attention was stitched elsewhere. The men around Mr. Vitacoma had gone quiet, impressed with Misty's gall to have approached their group in the first place. It was interesting to see these men as suits, the kind running the studios and labels instead of those in front of the cameras and microphones.

One of them in particular had (Y/N) flicking her eyes away more than once, his face almost too pretty to look at for longer than a moment before needing a break.

His bone structure was sharp, jawline cutting with high cheekbones, a layer of stubble creeping up his cheeks. From his profile, his nose was a perfect straight line; cinnamon colored freckles were dusted over the bridge, faint under the lowlight. His hair came in textured waves of dark brown, playing off of the bright green hue of his eyes. His white button up was undone, displaying the white undershirt pasted to his torso. Just the faintest peeks of different tattoos bled through the thin fabric, including the tips of a chest piece peeking over the neckline of his tank. A small peach colored, paisley printed silk scarf was hanging around his neck, untied through the wrinkles in the material made it clear it had been knotted earlier in the night. A pair of black pants were belted around his hips with a shimmering pinstripe running through the garment, playing off the ambient lighting through the backyard.

(Y/N) couldn't keep herself from following the line of his form. Broad shoulders and strong chest gave way to a tapered waist, each block of muscle visible through the cling of the top.

By the time she dared to flit her eyes back up to his face, (Y/N) had to blink back her shock at finding the green lilypads of his eyes already trained right on her. A small smile touched at the corner of his mouth, amusement sparking across his graze.

Feeling her skin heating, she was suddenly too aware of herself. She hadn't meant to glaze her eyes all over him, let alone be caught doing just that. Flicking her gaze away on instinct towards Misty still schmoozing over her executive, (Y/N) shuffled in her spot, patent leather of her boots squeaking. Her hands suddenly felt too empty, especially feeling his eyes still warming the side of her face. She didn't think before she had her hand reaching for her hair, searching for some kind of flyaway or anything out of place to play with, just before her fingers collided with her forgotten sunglasses. If there wasn't already enough embarrassment coursing through her system, the fact she had left her accessory messily holding her hair back could have been enough to have her melting on the spot.

It wasn't bad enough she was caught ogling a stranger, she also had to have stray pieces of hair standing straight up on her head while she was at it.

Fumbling around, she plucked the sunglasses from the top of her head and made to shove them into her purse. A breathy laugh sounded, so quiet she wouldn't have heard it over all the noise had she not been hyper aware of the man standing only feet away from her.

Peeking up through the stray baby hairs falling in her face, (Y/N) saw the man with the peach scarf looking at her with an amused smile on his face, dimples in his cheeks with his green irises bright. He bounced his brows above his eyes when he caught her gaze, gesturing down to her stumbling hands and fingerprint laden glasses with a tip of his chin.

(Y/N)'s blood burned under the apples of her cheeks. She could only sheepishly shrug, a shy smile on her lips in hopes of looking more nonchalant than she clearly was.

Another small laugh plumed from him. Her shoulders relaxed some when she realized he wasn't making a joke of her, merely quietly teasing her over something only the two of them know about. A small inside joke was being threaded between them in the middle of the patio.

Stepping away from the congregation, the man made a step towards (Y/N). Her heartbeat picked up in her chest. It would only take a few of his long strides to close to space between them.

"This is (Y/N)," Misty chirped, tugging her forward and away from the stranger that had taken her attention. "My sister bailed, and (Y/N) stepped up to come with me tonight. I wouldn't be here if she didn't agree to come out here."

A slight daze had (Y/N)'s attention split between the present and moments before. She gave a placid smile to Misty's executive, offering a hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you. Mr. Vitacoma, right?"

He flashed (Y/N) a bright smile, offering his own greeting she barely paid attention to. Pleasantries were exchanged then, forcing her to play along as to not ruin this for Misty, though (Y/N)'s mind was decidedly stitched elsewhere. With every plastered smile and feigned attentive nod of her head, she could feel someone's—his—eyes on her.

If it wasn't disrespectful, she would have already disengaged from Mr. Vitacoma and given her attention back to the man with the peach scarf. As much as she warmed under his gaze, still feeling a bit of that embarrassment after being caught so obviously ogling him, she was thrilled to have seen him attempting to approach her.

She hoped she hadn't lost her chance to hear what kind of voice a man like that held, and what it may sound like wrapped around her name.

Hearing the beginnings of Misty's laugh, (Y/N) immediately joined in, having missed completely what she was laughing at but playing along anyway. Taking advantage of the moment, she turned her head just enough in hopes of catching sight of the peach scarf man from around Misty's back.

But, he was gone. Even with his height, she was unable to catch even a single swirl of his brown hair among the sea of the other executives congregating around them.

Before she had much of a chance to mourn the chance that had come and gone to know anything about this man, a scream sounding from beside the pool had her turning around. Misty and Mr. Vitacoma barely registered the noise, only offering fleeting glances in that direction before she was back to her half-flirting, half-schmoozing. (Y/N)'s jaw dropped when she saw what exactly had screeched beside the pool.

A woman with voluminous blonde hair and a drunken smile on her face had stripped down, her dress and undergarments sitting in a pile on the grass, and was running straight towards the pool. Those around the pool with drinks in their hands cheered her on, encouraging her just before she took a leap and splashed straight into the water. As soon as she surfaced, makeup running with her hair deflated and pasted her face, another round of raucous cheers cracked through the backyard.

Flitting her eyes around, (Y/N) expected to see others sharing her shock. Instead, she found people either not paying attention at all or smiling on as if this was nothing more than the scheduled entertainment for the night. While (Y/N) wouldn't consider herself a complete prude (she'd seen a few French films over the years, and they were certainly not for the pearl-clutchers back home), but she couldn't believe no one shied away at the sight of the woman's naked body. Was there a memo that Misty forgot to let her in on?

Nonetheless, (Y/N) found herself unable to pull her eyes from the commotion that was beginning over by the pool. It was as if the woman's display had been a gun firing off, signaling the start of the real party now that the sun had dipped and only the most fun remained for the rest of the festivities.

Those that had previously been lounging by the pool started up with their own soirees, some downing the rest of the drinks they had their hands before stripping and joining the woman in the pool, or plain watching on with heated looks on their faces. Even some men dared to strip down and join in, giving (Y/N) a sight she'd truly never seen before with her eyes going wide. Some of the couples she'd seen before had turned their attention to one another, lips and tongues meeting with reckless abandon. Blatant sexuality was put on show among the low lighting and the moon sparkling above their heads. Despite being in Los Angeles for a little over nine months, she'd never seen anyone behave this openly, acting as if there was no one else around other than those they wanted to see.

The most jarring came in the form of a trio—two women and one man—squeezed together on a pool lounger. The man had his arms around both of the women, but had his head bent towards one, kissing her with gusto. The other woman, skin a sparkling bronze with a thick headband holding back her curly hair, caressed her manicured hands across the lines of the redhead's body. The man didn't leave his other companion without, it appeared, his own brawny hand sliding down the cuff of her shoulder until it was dangling over the swell of her breast before brushing his fingers over where the peek had been hidden behind her dress. (Y/N) could spot the curly haired woman whispering something to the kissing pair, something quiet enough just for the three of them to hear just before the redhead smiled into the kisses though the man refused to break the contact and dove harder into the redhead's mouth. The curly haired woman looked at them with hooded eyes, eye shadow shimmering under the moonlight, as she reached out and combed her fingers through waves of red hair, fisting the strands back and out of her friend's face with a stiff tug. A blush touched the redhead's cheeks.

They moved as if they were on film. The touches from the curly-haired woman moved harmoniously with each caress from the redhead over the man's muscled chest, as if perfected from a script. A director could have been sat feet away, camera trained in their direction with the way every ideal angle was shown off to the rest of the party. (Y/N) wouldn't have been surprised if this whole night was nothing more than a setup for some magazine, a photographer waiting for the perfect moment before jumping out with a camera and the perfect lighting.

As soon as the curly-haired woman leaned across the man's chest and pressed a lingering kiss to the redhead's shoulder, a hoot sounded from one of the other onlookers in the backyard. It was then that (Y/N) remembered she wasn't the only one here, the only one watching. She had been seeing something like an editorial photoshoot with these people—a bit scandalous of a subject, but nonetheless boundary pushing—but the sound of a cheering comment had brought her back to the present to see this for what it was.

The artistic, pretty filter she had seen the moment in vanished, leaving what was gearing up to be much raunchier of a scene than she was sure any of her French films had shown.

Whipping her head away when the strap of the redhead's dress was pulled down, (Y/N) turned to see Misty and Mr. Vitacoma conversing with no indication that either of them cared to know what was going on behind their backs.

"Mist," (Y/N) murmured, feeling only a little bad to be interrupting, "I'm going to go get a drink inside, okay?"

Misty gave her a nod with a small smile. "Okay, I'll come find you later."

With that, (Y/N) gave Misty and her executive a parting nod before scurrying away to head back inside, her eyes staying on her feet and nowhere near the pool.

It was with a sigh of relief that (Y/N) closed the door behind herself. While there was much more commotion and bodies surrounding her inside the mansion, it was decidedly less pressure than whatever it was going on out there. Though she was alone this time around, which wasn't something she thought about until a group of men in suits passed her by, a few offering appreciative glances in her direction.

This place seemed much bigger without Misty at her side.

Meandering through the throngs of people and the puddles of liquor on the floor, (Y/N) wasn't sure where she was going, only that the closer she was to the backyard, the more clinging the atmosphere seemed to be. There were plenty of people around her, some with clear influence that she was sure she should have been using this opportunity to get to know, just like Misty brought her here for, but she continued on with no clear destination in mind.

She didn't feel comfortable inserting herself in the cigar room, not when the men had poured out whiskey and the smoke had turned into something heavier. More faces littered the halls, getting more and more packed the darker the night grew. Sticking close to the walls, (Y/N) couldn't help the owlish blinks that fluttered her lashes as she took in the raucous patrons of the party. She was well aware of the parties and the night clubs that livened up downtown LA, but she never figured something like that could fit between the walls of someone's home.

Inadvertently, she found herself approaching the first room she had Misty had spotted, full of women her age dancing and having fun with a bartender slinging drinks faster than the records spinning. While she wasn't exactly comfortable, this room felt a lot easier to wade through as opposed to the faux board meeting going on in the other with all of the smoking men.

Keeping company with the fridges of the room, (Y/N) had the lingering thought that maybe she wasn't cut out for this kind of industry. Whether it be modeling or becoming a movie star, she figured she should be able to make conversation with practical strangers instead of marinating in her own excitement all by herself. A real model—a confident star—would have found the spotlight without hesitation and made a group of friends and connections that would land her somewhere even more glamorous than this mansion in the Hills.

Instead, (Y/N) was stationed somewhere between the record player and the suede couch pushed against the walls, tucked out of the way and listening into the conglomeration of all of these conversations.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a woman with towering dark hair and a sleek black dress entered her field of vision. She wore a bright smile and eyes that were a bit glossy, red veins spidering over her sclera.

"Are you friends with Misty?!" she shouted, maybe a bit too loud even with the record player and sound system so close.

Taken aback, a whiff of heavy liquor radiating from this girl's breath, (Y/N) gave a small nod. "Yeah, we work together."

"That is so fun! I work with her sister, Angelica! Where is she?" The girl stumbled some on her heels, reaching out for (Y/N)'s shoulder to keep herself steady.

"Angelica is seeing a friend tonight, so she couldn't make it," (Y/N) started, stifling her laughter over this woman's sudden friendship with her, "And, Misty's outside talking to some record label guy."

Her mouth fell open, dark lashes fluttering. "Come hang out with me and my friends! You shouldn't be alone at a party like this! Oh my god, and you need a drink!" Every sentence tumbling out of this woman's mouth broadened (Y/N)'s smile. Other than some rowdy patrons at the restaurant, she wasn't around many drunk people, especially none this excitable. A gasp fell from her lips, stopping herself in her teetering heels with her hand clutched around (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Wait, what's your name?"

"I'm (Y/N)," she smiled, "What's your name?"

"Marguerite! Now, do you want to take shots or do you want an actual drink?"

(Y/N) followed after Marguerite with a bubbling smile. She hoped she would be able to find her spotlight now.

—————

Twirling in her boots, (Y/N) tossed her head back with her eyes closed. She could vaguely feel the condensation from the drink in her hand, glass slick in her hand. By the time she opened her eyes, dropping back into the moment with the group of women that had adopted her for the night, she couldn't figure out if the room was spinning because of her wiring or if it was her drinking.

From working at the restaurant, and knowing enough bartenders through her journey of becoming known, she knew most bartenders tended to water drinks down to keep people coming for more and giving some hefty tips, but it didn't seem this man had received that memo. These cocktails were heavy, full of sour heat as soon as it touched her tongue before being doused out by the collection of juices and citrus mixed throughout. Initially, she had turned down taking shots with Marg and her friends, but she figured she could have just done that and made it to the same state she was currently in.

But, that didn't matter. Anything from a couple of hours ago, no longer mattered. What mattered now was how each song she heard was now her favorite, every cocktail she tried was the best she'd ever had, and these girls were undoubtedly the best friends she'd ever had. (Y/N) was almost certain she'd never been this drunk before.

A night of firsts, she figured; first networking opportunity she'd ever gone to, and the first time she'd been drunk enough that her heart and the record player in the corner were made of the same rhythms.

She'd have to find her spotlight another time, it appeared.

Suddenly, the weight of someone's hand settled on the small of her back. Seeing her friends—albeit a bit blurry—in front of her, she couldn't imagine who exactly would be comfortable enough to place their hands on her.

Whirling around, the hem of her dress fluttering around her thighs, (Y/N) saw an unfamiliar face looking down at her. His hair was black like his suit, slicked back with enough product to make the strands appear wet. His eyes were just as dark and glassy, with the sclera full of red veins.

It was a distant memory, from a version of herself that was sober and no longer here, (Y/N) remembered the men that had strategically placed themselves about the room in order to gain the perfect vantage point to watch the women drinking and socializing as if they were a show on the television set. None of them had been so bold to approach anyone yet, but it only took a quick glance towards Marg and the others to see this must have been a team effort, everyone a touch distracted by these unfamiliar men.

"Hi, sweet thing," this man murmured, dipping his head unnecessarily close to her ear, "Having fun?"

"Um—"

"(Y/N)?"

Snapping away from this man, (Y/N) clutched her drink. A breath of relief touched her lungs when she saw it was Misty who had called to her. She looked just as pristine as when they had arrived, dress still clinging to her form, hair perfectly straight without a strand out of place. (Y/N) doubted her lipstick was anywhere near as perfect as Misty's still was.

"Mist! You're back!" (Y/N) cheered, grateful to be dismissing the man in favor of wrapping Misty in an enthusiastic hug. "Are you a singer now?!"

Misty shot her a bubbling smile, the corners twitching as if she was trying not to be as happy as she currently felt. "I might be," she muttered, sheepish, "I have a meeting—a real one—with Mr. Vitacoma tomorrow morning. I need to get home so I can sleep at least a little before I head to the office."

(Y/N) blinked, arms going limp around Misty. "Now?"

"Yeah," Misty nodded, mind obviously elsewhere, "Do you have your stuff?"

"Um," (Y/N) prattled, suddenly aware of her bag hanging from her elbow, "Yeah, but... I don't know, Mist. I'm kind of really drunk, I think."

Misty seemed to suddenly take note of her friend's state and the cold drink in her hand. "Wait. How many drinks have you had?"

"Three, I think," (Y/N) started, unwittingly beginning to sway to the new song that had started playing through the space, "But they're really strong."

Fitting her bottom lip between her teeth, Misty's face twisted into worry. "You don't think you can drive, right now? It's almost two."

Opening her mouth, (Y/N) felt like a guppy when she stood there and no words came. While she was far from sober, she was definitely beginning to feel the gravity of what Misty needed from her. She had a terribly exciting meeting set up for tomorrow morning, a real sit down with Mr. Vitacoma that would make her one of the voices etched into a vinyl. Misty had no idea how to drive, so (Y/N) needed to get her home before the sun started on the horizon.

"I—um—hold on," she said, dropping her drink to sit on a random surface, "I think I need some air, and after that I can drive us home. Do you know if there's any food around?"

Misty, working on one problem at a time, clutched (Y/N)'s hand and started towards the backyard. It was a deja vu moment, (Y/N) absently wondering what the grassy area had devolved into through the hours she had been inside.

"Get some air, and I'll try to find some bread or something," Misty thought out loud, pushing open the glass door with their shoes clicking over the cement patio.

The world spun a bit too fast for (Y/N) to catch anything going on around the pool, allowing her to simply follow after Misty as best she could in the boots that suddenly felt less than stable now that she wasn't dancing. Like a wobbly shadow, (Y/N) stayed close to Misty as she rounded to the side of the house, out of the way of the distant splashing and cheering from the pool.

"Are you okay to stay right here?" Misty asked, stopping (Y/N) on a soft patch of grass between the main home and shed field with whatever it took to maintain lawns of this size. From here, she could spot the height of the trees that had welcomed them when they made it here hours earlier.

(Y/N) nodded her head, sinking to sit down on the cool grass. "Where are you going?"

Misty looked at her with wide eyes, bottom lip being chewed between her teeth. "To get you something to eat. And, water, probably."

"Oh yeah," (Y/N) bubbled, a plume of laughter falling from her lips, "I'll be okay, I think."

Her friend hesitated for a moment, steps starting and stopping with one more look at (Y/N) in the safety of the secluded space before starting off for the house. Left by herself with her bare legs laid in the cool blades of grass and the sky clear above her, (Y/N) took in deep breaths.

Without smoke and thick humidity clogging the air, she was allowed a reprieve. Sitting here, she didn't feel all that drunk, but she doubted she would feel that stable if she made a move to stand up. Hopefully, whatever Misty found inside would help her get back on track, make it so she could have Misty home before the night had ended.

Pulling her knees to her chest, (Y/N) tried to concentrate. She wanted her mind to slow, her gaze to even, and her body to feel like her own again. She couldn't drive like this, she knew, but Misty was relying on her. (Y/N) needed to figure out how to get this alcohol out of her system in record time.

It was a frustrating goal, one she knew was going to be impossible to achieve when she couldn't get her gaze to focus on a miniscule chip in the white paint of the shed before her. Her gaze moved like the liquor that had sloshed in her glass inside.

Was she going to have to drive like this? Would they even make it back if she did that?

She hadn't realized her eyes had grown wet, tears puddling in her waterline until her sight ws that much more unreliable. She was frustrated and nervous, pressure coming from the fact that without a miracle, she was going to have to make sense of wavy lines while driving her friend home to prepare for the meeting of a lifetime.

(She wasn't a perfect driver, anyway. She doubted she'd be much better when she wasn't one hundred percent sober).

"Hey, are y'alright?"

Whipping her head up, (Y/N) caught only a glimpse of the new guest of her spot before wincing. Moving the fast wasn't a good idea if she was working on getting her vision to quit swimming.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," she stuttered, cracking her eyes open just enough to find the vague lines of who was standing before her, "I'm drunk."

A breathy laugh filled the air. One (Y/N) knew—had been hyper aware of just hours ago.

Blinking her eyes open, her vision having settled, she saw the man with the peach scarf. Right in front of her with the pretty green of his eyes trained on her, moonlight seeping through the swirls of his hair.

He was British. Interesting.

"Do y'want something to drink? It might be a good idea to eat something, too." The sharp planes of his face softened out, rounding with dimples in his cheeks and a kind smile curving his lips.

"My friend, she's already grabbing so-something for me," she hiccuped, "You met her kind of; she was talking to your friend."

Crouching to sit at her level, the man nodded his head. "She's something," he laughed, "Not many people come up to John like that. She has a meeting with him in the morning, right?"

(Y/N) nodded her head, squinting when her vision when spiraling once more. "Yeah, so I need to drive her home, but I think I'm still drunk. She's getting me some water, and then we have to go."

This man's reaction came in the form of a pinch settling between his brows, lips thinning. "She doesn't want to drive?"

"She doesn't know how," (Y/N) clarified.

He didn't seem to like this extra information much more. His tone was gentle when he spoke again, everything softened in this accent she'd only ever heard on television. "I don't know if 's a good idea for y'to be driving tonight. Maybe, we can go inside and see if there's anywhere y'can sleep for the night."

Reaching a broad hand out for her to take, he looked at her with encouraging eyes. (Y/N) shook her head. "I can't. She has that meeting in the morning and I have work tomorrow, we-we can't stay. I just need some water, and then I'll be okay."

A heaved sigh fell from his lungs. "I don't think that's how it works, love."

Before she could make heart eyes over the pet name he laid over her, (Y/N) saw a familiar form rounding behind her new friend.

"(Y/N)? I've got your water. How are you feeling?" Stepping around the man with the peach scarf, Misty had water and what looked to be a glass of dry cereal in her hands. She gave a sidelong glance towards the man that was not there the last time she'd seen her friend.

Lagging in response, (Y/N) blinked up at Misty. "I'm good—so much better! Let's go!"

Just as she put on her performance with an attempt to get to her feet, her flimsy cover was blown as soon as she stumbled into Misty with her arms pinwheeling at her sides. With her hands full, Misty offered an arm towards (Y/N) to brace herself, but it was the man with the peach scarf that steadied her before she had a chance to fall flat on her face. He reached towards her, settling his palms on her shoulders with (Y/N) touching his chest over the thin material of his top.

"(Y/N)!" Misty bubbled, eyes wide.

Blinking up at the man with her lashes fluttering around her uneven gaze, (Y/N) took in the sight of him with the moon acting as a halo behind his head.

Was her mouth agape? Was she still touching him? Was she unbelievably drunk, or was the rest of the world a blur, except for him?

"Are y'alright?" he murmured, concern dripping from his words.

Back on earth, (Y/N) shook herself away from the man, their hands dropping to their sides though she swore she could still feel the creases of his palms and length of his fingers around her shoulders.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, turning her gaze towards Misty, "Sorry, just—hold on, I can take us home, just give me a second."

Both Misty and the man gave her less than impressed looks.

He was the first to move, looking towards Misty with a bounce to his brows. "Misty, right?"

Despite (Y/N)'s clear favoring of him, Misty didn't knock the suspicious accusations from her eyes. "Yes. Why?"

He shot her that dazzling smile, dimples and all. "I know y'have an appointment with John tomorrow morning, but she's not going to be well enough to drive tonight. It wouldn't be safe to head home before she's had a chance to sleep this off."

Misty's shoulders dropped at the serious tone he served her. "But... I can't—We can't stay. I have to go home to get ready for that meeting, and she has to go to work."

Pursing his lips, the man settled his hands on his hips as the gears in his head began to turn. "Where's home?"

Even in her muddled head, (Y/N) could see the reluctance Misty held when she gave the general area they came from.

He gave her a nod, lips still thinned. Peering through his lashes, he looked at Misty before offering a fleeting glance towards (Y/N). "I can take y'both home. I haven't had anything to drink tonight."

Walls back up immediately, Misty gave an uncertain stare, brows pinched. She didn't have to say anything for man to start offering an alternative, (Y/N) letting out a plume of laughter.

"Or, I can call a taxi? I can't guarantee anyone will be available, or how quick they'd make it out, but 'm more than happy to pay for it." Sincerity lit up his eyes.

Misty didn't immediately have an answer, taking her turn to think over the direction the night had taken. The silence left (Y/N) a chance for the alcohol to wipe her own thoughts over the dilemma, her attention instead shifting to lay fully on the man that stood before her.

Maybe it was the vodka shining in her eyes, but she swore something angelic began to shimmer from the edges of him. He really was so pretty, (Y/N) thought. Earlier hadn't just been the product of an excitable mind seeing a bunch of important people for the first time since her cross-country move, he really was gorgeous.

Did he know that? Were enough people telling him that? Should she tell him?

For the second time that night, she was caught staring at him. A twitching of a smile touched at the corner of his mouth, his eye dropping into a wink.

She couldn't help herself, her own features brightening and molding into something giddy. She didn't need Misty to tell her what the best option was out of the two this man had presented, (Y/N) already had her favorite picked out.

"You'd really t-take us home?" (Y/N) hiccuped through her smile, clasping her hands in front of her middle.

"If that's what you'd prefer," he drawled, amusement dancing over his features as he took in her reaction.

Before he could send a precursory glance towards Misty once more, (Y/N) piped up, "I prefer that! Please."

A small plume of laughter fell from his lips at her outburst, Misty even taking a peek in her direction with a raised brow and half smile.

"Please, Mist," (Y/N) pleaded, a bright smile on her face, "Isn't he so nice?"

Another small glance towards the man was given by Misty. "What's your name? I'm not getting in someone's car when I don't know their name."

"'M Harry," he smiled, "And John is a good friend of mine, and he'd kill me if I messed up his schedule tomorrow by not getting you two home."

"And, you're not crazy, right?"

Another set of dimples touched his cheeks. "Not as far as I know."

"Fine," Misty settled, "Thank you, Harry."

"Thank you, Harry," (Y/N) parroted, a little too excitable.

Both Misty and Harry helped guide (Y/N)'s stumbling steps through the mansion, the water and cereal Misty grabbed for her being left behind as they made their way through the halls. More than once, she had the privilege of getting a touch from Harry's large hand on her arm or between her shoulder blades when her balance teetered.

He led them through the mansion and to the valet where a different attendant now stood at the station. Harry gave the man a small nod before taking them sharply away from the bank of cars that had been valeted out of the way, out of the way to a glossy forest green Cadillac.

(Y/N) gaped in awe. She'd seen plenty of nice cars while living out here, but she'd never thought anyone actually drove them—not anyone real, like Harry, anyway.

Harry made to stand by the passenger side, holding open the back door for them to slip inside. "This is yours?" she asked, "Like, you drive it and everything?"

"I do, yeah. Like it?"

"The color is really pretty," (Y/N) shared, holding back the detail that it reminded her of the flecks of darker hues in his eyes.

"Thank you," he smiled.

Misty guided (Y/N) into the backseat then, following in to sit beside her a moment later. An amused look was on her friend's face. "You're a flirty drunk, huh?"

"Am I?" (Y/N) bubbled. Was it terribly obvious she thought Harry was pretty?

"A little," Misty laughed just as Harry took his own spot behind the wheel. "But, it's alright. It's good for you—you don't do it enough."

"Jus' straight home, right ladies?"

"Yes, please." Misty reached ahead where a folded map was sitting on the bench of the passenger seat. "Do you want me to give directions?"

Harry shrugged off the offer, "I think I've got it. Y'jus' keep an eye on her."

Looking forward, into the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught Harry's eyes on her, creases touching the corners as a smile spread over his lips.

—————

"Bye, Mist. Call me tomorrow, please. I want to know how your meeting goes."

"I will," Misty murmured, giving (Y/N) a tired hug before she started inching towards the door, "When you get home, eat something and have some water before you go to sleep. And take off your makeup."

As much as (Y/N) wanted to stick to Misty's instructions, she knew herself well enough to know that those words had gone right through her. Nonetheless, she nodded her head. "Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too." Pushing the door open, Misty took a glance over her shoulder towards Harry in the front seat, who was fiddling with the radio dials on the dashboard. "Thank you for driving us home, Harry. I'm happy you aren't crazy."

"Me too," he smiled, turning to face her, "'M happy I could get y'home safely. Let me walk y'up."

(Y/N) watched as Harry escorted her friend up to her front door, giving her a perfect view of all of the lines of his body. Being cramped up in his car almost made her forget the full length of his height. As if there wasn't enough she would be thinking about once she was at her apartment.

Taking his seat back in the front seat once Misty was inside safely, Harry turned to look at (Y/N) over the bench seat. "Wanna sit up here with me? Or are y'comfortable back there?"

She didn't even have to think before she was scrambling to make her new spot at his side. "I wanna sit with you."

Although she'd never thought of herself as particularly funny, Harry seemed to think she was hilarious. Everything she said drew a laugh out of him.

Nonetheless, she hopped out of the backseat and found her new spot up in the passenger side of the bench seat beside Harry. Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled away from the curb of Misty's house before shooting a quick glance towards (Y/N).

"Want to find some music for us? I can only listen to the same advertisements so many times, you know," Harry prompted, nodding to the radio with a dip of his chin.

"The McDonald's one is the worst," (Y/N) bubbled, reaching over to play with the dials, "It's always on."

Harry agreed with a hum, following the directions Misty had given before she left for the night to head towards (Y/N)'s apartment. "What kind of music do y'like?"

"Anything fun," (Y/N) offered, shooting him a bright smile, "But, I really love The Zombies right now."

Perking up at her words, Harry glanced at her as he came to a stop sign. "The Zombies? What's your favorite song?"

(Y/N) couldn't help the bubbling of conversation that sprouted from her lips then, the radio dials left behind in favor of talking with Harry. He was the perfect listener, even while he was carefully getting her home, she didn't doubt he was listening in. More than once, she wasn't sure if he was only being kind given the fact she was bubbly with alcohol, but he encouraged her ramblings, feeding her his own opinions and asking her what she thought. (Y/N) could have stayed curled up in this space for much longer than the short ten minutes between her apartment and Misty's home.

By the time he pulled up to her apartment building, (Y/N) almost wanted to pout.

Only the hum of the engine sounded as he paused in his seat, pulling his wallet from the pocket of his trousers. Casualy, he thumbed through the bills he had ticked inside the leather, grabbing more than (Y/N) would make in tips even during a busy Friday night shift at the restaurant. He passed the wad off to her.

"Use this to take a taxi to get your car tomorrow," Harry instructed, giving her a soft smile, "I know y'didn't really plan on leaving it overnight, so I'd like to take care of the drive back for you."

(Y/N) hesitated. "Are you sure? That's kind of a lot."

He shrugged, "'S my fault y'left it. I don't mind."

Gingerly, she pulled the cash out of his hand. "Are you going to be there tomorrow?"

"Probably not," he smiled, another laugh from his lungs.

Juxtaposing his amusement, the beginnings of a pout touched her lips. "So, I won't see you again."

"Not tomorrow," he clarified, raising a brow, "But, maybe soon."

Just like he did for Misty, Harry walked (Y/N) up to the door of her building, keeping her from stumbling up the stairs that led to the glass door.

"You're alright to get up by yourself, or do y'want me to go with you?"

As much as she would have liked to get him to spend a handful of minutes more with her, (Y/N) shook her head. He'd done a lot for her tonight already. "I'll be okay, but thank you. For everything tonight. You kind of saved the day for Misty.

"'S easier this way," he smiled, "And much more fun than trying to kick people out of the house with John doing nothing to help."

"Is he your best friend?" (Y/N) asked, stalling a bit despite her better judgment.

"A little," Harry said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "But he definitely doesn't have as good of taste in music as y'do."

Much like the first time she spotted him this evening, (Y/N) felt her skin warm at his words. "If you get a chance to listen to that album, let me know what you think."

"I definitely will, love. But, you've got to get to bed first."

"Right," she said, attempting to sober up with a nod, "Thank you again."

"Of course, (Y/N). Goodnight."

Harry waited until she was safely inside, where she went on to practically float up the stairs with the sound of his accent wrapped around her name echoing in her head. Now in the quiet of her apartment, among her things, the bubbling excitement she'd felt throughout the evening simmered down to a dreamy haze.

She'd had one of the most fun nights she'd had since moving to the city, and it ended with her being taken care of by one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen. After tugging off her boots, she pulled out the cash he'd given her, counting out the abundant amount of bills he'd passed off to her. Thumbing through them, she stopped when she reached the middle of the wad, where a thick white business card was tucked between.

Separating the cash from the card, (Y/N) flipped it over to find black script printed over the paper.

Harry Styles.

She didn't even try to bite back the wide smile touching her lips.

—————

brigitte bardot, model, actress, and singer; a timeless icon of the 60's

ahhhhh! so happy to finally share this little part of bardot with you guys! once again this is a patreon exclusive with every part after this one only being available on my page! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas please send them in!!!

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dunmeshistash · 2 months ago

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G'day, I hope you are doing well.

Ever since I finished the story of Dungeon Meshi (all supplementary material included) I've been writing down bullet points on characters in addition to in-depth synopses as a way to tidy up my rather busy mind. To this end I've also greatly enjoyed reading other folks' interpretations of particular characters, as it gives me further insight into aspects of that character I may have glossed over.

However, there's one character I'm struggling to write a cohesive synopsis about, that being none other than 'miss enigma' herself, Falin Touden. I get that her whole shtick is that she's kind of a mystery, but I find myself drawing a lot of blanks when it comes to her as a character, and while I have nailed down some important bullet points, there are a lot of different interpretations on her, all of which starkly contrast one another. Though perhaps it's just the wording. Hard to say.

It could very well be that I'm being too dense i.e. perceiving "Falin is willing to risk killing others to save her friends." and "Falin, in the heat of the moment, when faced with certain death, was willing to face the prospect of harming potential passersby in a final Hail Mary to get her friends to safety." as entirely different observations. I have a hard time with those kinds of things.

With this being a hub for all sorts of observations, interpretations and cool trivia, I was wondering if you'd perhaps be willing to share how you yourself perceive Falin as a character, so I can compare notes and perhaps gain a more proper understanding of her as a character as a result. I know this question is very broad and kind of vague, but if you could spare the time I'd be most grateful.

Other than that, I wish you an excellent day.

Hello!!! I love Falin!!!!!

She *is* a mystery, we mostly know Falin through the perception other characters have of her instead of a direct deep look onto who she is, which I find very interesting. I think the best post I've seen about her (which as usual I can't remember where edit: someone linked it thank uu) I think called her perceived altruism/love "selfish" and I've been thinking about that ever since.

In that sense the way she cares so much about the comfort of people around her might be a way to keep *her own* comfort because she doesn't want to see other people suffer.

This girly died and came back to life from bones and the first thoughts she has is that she caused trouble for her loved ones

She probably has felt this way since she was a child, "because of her" that her family was torn apart "because of her" that Laios left, her mom was sick, her father had to send her away. (wasn't actually her fault but she might think it is)

I imagine ever since then Falin has done her best to not cause trouble and to make the people she loves happy, everything we know about her and the things she was doing was always for the people she loved, that's why I enjoy the post canon comic where Toshiro asks her hand in marriage again so much. The first time she considers accepting just because "might as well" while for the second time she finally wants to live for herself.

I think Falin herself has lost who she "really is" by trying to accommodate everyone around her and that's probably part of why we ourselves don't really know her, so much so that the most cynical character is uncomfortable around her (probably cause he notices Falin is "hiding" something)

I think Falin is quite the melancholic character to be honest, someone who has lost herself in self sacrifice and who is only now learning how to live for herself doing what she wants.

Both the teleportation scene and the bit about healing show "cracks" in the selfless front she puts out tbh. By context I don't think what she did was only due to "desperation of the moment" she says out loud "Even if I end up hurting others I want you and my brother to live on". She weighted out how much suffering she might cause and decided she wanted to save them anyway, and I'm sure in that calculation she knew that they would suffer because of her sacrifice too.

Falin is saving them for herself, I'm not great with words so this is all over the place and maybe sounds a little negative about Falin but the thing is, you cannot live your life for other people, you can't sacrifice yourself for other people's happiness, you shouldn't erase your own presence so others are happier and I think Falin is starting to learn that by the end.

I'd probably keep rambling without getting anywhere and missing a lot of more meaningful moments but I'll stop here, if anyone has recs for Falin analysis please share!

#Dungeon Meshi spoilers #I think the way Toshiro speaks about the moment he fell in love with Falin to be telling too #He had to see her in the dead of the night finally just doing her thing instead of putting on what others expect of her #to finally notice how wonderful she is #But Falin cannot reciprocate those feelings because as opposed to Laios #She is putting up a front to these other people so she can't engage with them in a meaningful manner #Nobody (besides Laios and Marcille) got past the wall Falin put up so they couldn't reach her #I think in the conversation she has with Toshiro in that extra she's finally letting him thru that wall #instead of avoiding it like she did before #she caused discomfort by saying what she really feels and that's okay #Anyway #dunmeshi thoughts #ask #Falin Touden

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14thgalerie · 1 year ago

Text

you know other women?

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: my kind of woman by mac demarco / sad girl by lana del rey

• word count: 1.2k

• genre: smut (suggestive)

— not proofread again. i just wanted to write a short one because i haven't been in the mood to write anything and it feels shitty. also this is the last time i'm writing something like this, i just wanted to try it out. took the idea from this request!

“You’re the most jealous woman I know!”

There was silence for a moment. Your thumb and pointer finger slipped under his chin and grasped it gently, making him look up at you from his seated position. Your stormy eyes were a bit darker than normal. His heart skipped a beat at the close proximity you were in now.

“You know other women?”

Theo didn’t utter a word, his silence speaking volumes, proven more by the tremble in his lower lip.

“Theodore.”

He pulls back from your touch. Eyes fixated on the intricate natural curves of the grains of the wooden floor. Tracing every line. Ignoring the pulsing beat that hammers against his chest. He does this for what internally felt like hours that they didn’t even look like lines anymore. It looked like something else, indecipherable.

“I am talking to you and if you don’t look at me for another second longer…” Your voice trails off in a terrifying tone that makes his head tilt up in less than a millisecond.

“Answer me.”

“Well…of course I know them, but that doesn’t mean I talk to them, you know?” The twitch in his speech is noticeable even by the breeze that passes through the open window. The unbothered, amused tone that he tried to emulate is useless as you remain standing there unimpressed.

Still, and locked in on him like he was a prey. Almost daring him to make another slip of the tongue.

His mouth hangs open while he flounders in his position, his brain wracking for anything to save him from whatever it is you seem to be planning in your mind.

“Y/N. Darling. You do know that, right? Just like how you’re the only woman that I even let near me?”

Compared to earlier, he finds a sense of confidence to look you directly in the eyes. When you make no move to recognise this, he takes it as a sign to continue.

“And I was only playing with you earlier. It didn’t mean anything other than a simple teasing to get you riled up. It was just in the heat of the moment.” He said tremulously. Well aware that he looked and sounded like a mess, spilling whatever his mind could conjure up.

Not a part of him could pinpoint exactly what it was you were thinking, but one thing he knew was that he wouldn’t be spared. But frankly? He couldn’t help but feel a sense of nervous excitement coursing through him.

A tiny voice inside his head inviting him to keep on with the constant rambling that surely worsened his sentence.

Deep in his thoughts as he tries to expel them, he doesn’t notice how you have come closer, now standing a mere arm’s length away from him.

“You are mine only. It’ll do you well to remember that.”

The only response his body allows him is a timid nod as you press your thumb on his lower lip, pulling it down. They make a path of tingles as it travels along the sharp features of his face drawing out a whimper from him.

His breath catches in his throat as your hands tighten around the velvety strands of his chocolate-brown hair, tugging it until he is forced to meet your gaze.

“Your touch, your gaze, they are mine. Only I will hear the way you pathetically beg.”

Nothing more is said as you lean down and, surprisingly, gently press your lips to his. The familiar pair that he has craved since it last touched his hours ago. He ignores the slightly cracked skin; dry from the screaming match you’ve been at for a while.

It was slow. Passionate. Desperate. It fueled a fire deep within the pit of his stomach, travelling downwards.

His hands are wild and rough as they grapple at whatever part of you they can touch; your hips being its choice. But despite this amusing attempt to regain control of the situation, he remains vulnerable to your touch.

When you pull away from him, unknowingly, he follows your movement, chasing after that addicting warmth. One that you generously gave as you moved to leave a path of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw.

You don’t pause in your actions as you move your legs to sit on either side of him, his hands mindlessly moving along your lower back to secure you in his lap. Something that sends tingles straight to your core.

His insides were burning him from the inside out, flames consuming him. Intensified as you move towards a sensitive spot, rendering him into a groaning mess under you.

“You wanted this didn’t you?” You taunt playfully, a sly smirk forming in the corner of your mouth. “Tried to provoke me to give you attention?”

To which he tries to deny with meaningless words as his body contradicts them. Thrusting upwards to meet your cruel torment. To feel a sliver of relief in his tightening trousers. His hands, which moved to your hips sometime between your teasing, helped guide you in the back-and-forth motion against his groin.

“Look at you.” You whisper against his ear, biting his earlobes lightly. Tracing your fingers along his chest, drawing lines and curves. “Can other women have you writhing like a deprived man also? I’d be so delighted to see if they can even come close.”

He stares at you as you draw back with wide, unblinking eyes, and a slackened jaw as heavy exhales pass through his ajar lips. “No.”

“I don’t care for them, I just want you, please.”

Forgetting all sense aside, leaving it for future him to figure out, his lips found yours again. Tongue delving to explore the hollow of your mouth, while his hands continue to move you just to feel that fire blooming in his core finally be released. It seemed that maybe you were gracious enough to let him do it, despite the obvious act of disobedience that you punished him for.

The moans that were like music to your ears were pathetic enough for you. Getting louder that he had to push his head against your chest to muffle the sounds that others outside must have heard already. You run your fingers through his hair, something that always pushed him off the brink of his high.

In his desperation, he never forgets about you and draws his dominant hand between your bodies straight towards your clothes core before you roughly grasp his wrist and toss it aside.

“No touching.” You warn. “But-“

“You don’t deserve to.” You curtly retort. It was pathetic, the way that his hand itched to disobey you but he knew that he was pushing the boundaries too far already.

“Just as you deserve this.” You declare, his eyes widen in bewilderment as the weight on his lap is lifted, leaving him with only the pitiful feeling of emptiness. “What-”

You remain silent, casually strolling towards the locked door, indifferent to his wide-eyed desperation and his fumbling hands that seem to forget what it’s supposed to do. The a slight tremor in his voice as he calls for you.

“See you at dinner.”

“You can’t just leave me here, love, please.” He says, a hint of desperation at the end.

“You don’t make the calls, Theo.” You say, unwavering, while he sits there helplessly. You weren’t going to give him a punishment that he would like, no.

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott smut #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot

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yerimbrit · 3 months ago

Text

insufferable : k. chaewon

synopsis: i (21f) absolutely detest my roommate (21f). we've known each other for years, but have always had this unspoken beef?, for lack of a better word. i tried requesting a dorm change but was denied. my friend offered to switch dorms but my roommate started acting weirdly after i told her about it. what should i do?

# : pairing ! nonidol!kim chaewon x fem!reader

# : tags ! college!au, enemies to something else, crack, fluff, light angst, they're so petty it's insane, forced proximity, reader is lowk a jock, temperature is in fahrenheit cus i'm american sorry, miscommunication, arguments, kazuha owns a wii and a betta fish

# : wordcount ! 4.7k

# : warnings ! none

"you've got to be kidding me."

chaewon scoffed, looking at you with an expression that nearly matched yours which held an inexplicable amount of disgust. she rolled her suitcase into the dorm, slipping off her vans slip-ons. "shouldn't i be saying that? no one would want to room with you, hello?"

you scowled, turning back to the tv, logging into your netflix account. "you know what, whatever. i mind my own business, you mind yours. let's just make this easier on both of us, yeah?"

"for once, i agree with you."

ah, yes. kim chaewon. the bane of your existence, and also the girl you'd been beefing with since the third grade. it all started when she said that she could beat you in a race during the sports festival. then, after she lost the race, she had started stealing your juiceboxes when you weren't looking. as a result, you laughed at her crayon drawings and knocked down her block towers for revenge.

the exchanges eventually escalated into middle school and high school, your rivalry turning into petty arguments and pointed glares across the room. it only got worse when your mothers had gotten close at one particular school event, and you had to see chaewon even more than usual. to add onto that, you always saw her at your basketball games because she was the captain of the cheer team.

kim chaewon was a constant in your life. and god, was she so annoying.

"she's so annoying," you grumbled, popping a french fry into your mouth. "i mean, who the hell does pilates in the living room!?"

kazuha smiled and took a sip of her root beer. "me. it's actually kind of fun, you should try when you can't make it to the gym."

"you know she's a gym bro, it's like her second home," yunjin snorted, stealing a fry off of your plate, which effectively earned her a swat of the hand.

yunjin and kazuha were both on the basketball team with you, but kazuha was also on your high school team. you were the one who'd convinced her to join due to her height, on just her second day at school after transferring from japan. then, you and kazuha met yunjin at orientation, who was also planning on trying out for your college's team, and once you all made it, you were inseparable.

you sighed. "you're literally the one who goes with me, yunjin."

the american threw her hands up in a guilty manner, then stole another fry. "anyway, can we talk about something else? this whole time you've been talking about your roommate, personally i don't care but i hear this everyday. you even blow up the groupchat to talk about her."

"i think i've heard her name more than my own," kazuha shuddered. she drank the rest of her soda, resulting in the straw making an obnoxious sound when the cup emptied. "are you sure you aren't like, in love with her or something? i've never seen you talk about someone so much, someone other than chaewon."

you gagged. you? in love with chaewon? quite the opposite. "that's absolutely disgusting, zuha. don't ever mention me, chaewon, and in love, in the same sentence, again."

you would rather die than date kim chaewon. literally everything about her infuriated you. for example: she woke up way too early.

recalling the past few days, you grimaced. last night while you were on a game-replay-turned-movie-binge, you heard the girl start singing and working in the kitchen. and while you had to admit she did have a killer voice, it was 5 am and you still hadn't gone to sleep.

also, she spent hours in the bathroom. even after being let known that you were exhausted and sweaty from practice, she spared no pity for you. she even went as far as to take another thirty minutes just to spite you. what did she even do in there?

and every time you came back late from a party or from hanging out with yunjin and kazuha, she scolded you. it was always about having some respect for her and how irresponsible you were for not returning at an appropriate time. what was she, your mom?

it seemed chaewon just loved to scold you. be quiet at night, stop leaving your towels everywhere, can you shut up so i can study, clean up after you finish your takeout, that wasn't even the end of it.

(after a grueling practice session led by your team captain, you were just about ready to pass out on your bed. unfortunately, you couldn't do that until you showered and chaewon was in the sole bathroom that your dorm had.

"why's it so fucking hot," you whined, begrudgingly getting up to check the thermostat. as you shuffled over while wiping your forehead clear of sweat with the towel hanging around your neck, you could slowly and clearly make out the number 78.

"what the fuck."

"oh, you're back."

speak of the devil, who just came out of the shower with her hair still wet and dripping onto her white my melody tee.

you furrowed your eyebrows, trying not to focus on her appearance, her bare face that looked too good, and pointed to the thermostat. "could you," you coughed, wiping the sweat off of your nose, "care to tell me why our dorm is set to 78 degrees."

chaewon sneered. "it was cold.")

a text sucked you out of your dingy flashback. it was from chaewon, of course it was. 'it's ur turn to take out the trash this week.' how about it's your turn to take her out? with a punch, of course. yeah.

"gotta go," you stood up, letting out an unnecessary and exaggerated groan as you stretched your back muscles. "the demon is calling."

"so can i have your last fry or what?"

you scoffed at yunjin, snatching the fry and shoving it in your mouth. the blonde mumbled something under her breath that you couldn't catch, but kazuha interjected before you could flick her on the nose.

"hey, you should do us a favor and confess already!"

"i don't like her like that! or at all! i'll stop spamming you if that's what you want, just stop assuming i have a crush on chaewon."

yunjin smirked. "'cause you do?"

"'cause i don't!"

you started walking towards the exit of the diner, dreading the upcoming encounter with your roommate. and also dreading the future "chaey/n" ship texts from the two idiots. you reminded yourself to set up an anti-yunjin booth to counter her upcoming student council campaign.

"you can kiss a hundred boys in ba—"

"can you shut the fuck up? i'm trying to study," chaewon half-groaned and half-yelled as she slammed your door open.

you were currently in a sweat-inducing fight against malenia in your summonless run of elden ring, with sakura (who happened to be best friends with chaewon) screaming in your ear whenever you failed to dodge the boss's waterfowl dance. just as you narrowly avoided an attack, you started singing good luck, babe! in a panic.

because you were still fighting the boss, and because you only heard something thud, you didn't realize that your fuming roommate was standing in your room, waiting for you to notice her presence.

chaewon moved to stand next to you, hands on her hips as her patience continued to thin out. the 'you died' screen faded in on your screen and you respawned at the site of grace, whining while sakura both laughed at you and scolded you through the discord voice chat.

through the corner of your eye, you could barely see a bit of pink. huh. what was pink in your room? almost nothing, besides the pinkie pie plush that yunjin had gotten you as a joke, but that was resting on your bed and you certainly didn't recall getting anything else this week.

...until you looked up and saw the scowling face of kim chaewon.

"how did you not see me for the past ten minutes."

your mouth dropped open and you pressed the mute button on your mic before taking your headphones off. "i was busy! and why are you here anyway?"

chaewon gripped the pale pink fabric of her twice hoodie in frustration. "i came in ten minutes ago to tell you to shut up, but you didn't hear me!"

"you could've, i don't know, tapped my shoulder!?" you yelled back, pinching the bridge of your nose. how were you supposed to know she was there when you were so focused on your computer screen?

"ugh!" she turned away, exasperated. "god, i wish you out of all people weren't my roommate! i mean who even sings to chappell roan while they're being chased down!?"

upon hearing her words, it hit you. you had asked the RA minjeong for a dorm change, but she had simply told you to suck it up, or find someone willing to swap with you. and lucky for you, sakura was more than willing to do exactly that, because she hated rooming with your best pal yunjin.

"you know what, i've got just the news for you."

the shorter girl looked startled, but ever so impatient. "what?"

you pulled up your texts with the older japanese girl, revealing an agreement that she would switch with you because "yunjin keeps taking naps on our sofa and leaving crumbs everywhere u can have her," smiling in victory.

to your utter surprise, chaewon went quiet. then she bit her lip and left your room without another word.

"what the fuck?"

this week felt different. you no longer heard humming from the kitchen in the morning but heard sounds of sizzling and clashing, the fresh aroma of breakfast she cooked making its way even through the door to your room.

chaewon stopped doing pilates in the living room, she stopped telling you to clean up and instead waited for you to do it at your own pace. she stopped texting you to shut up, and she hadn't spent any more time than necessary in the bathroom besides her lengthy nightly routine.

it was weird. why was chaewon doing the exact opposite of what you complained about?

so you did the obvious and asked her about it, when she was in the living room watching something on your netflix account connected to the tv.

"hey."

she hummed, not bothering to turn around and face you. what the hell was her problem?

you strided to the side of the couch, scoffing when she didn't pay even an ounce of attention to you. unfortunately, that only pissed you off more. you grabbed the remote and paused the episode of whatever drama she was on.

the girl whipped her head around, eventually meeting your eyes. "what are you doing!?"

your roommate took her dramas very seriously. so of course, this resulted in an agitated chaewon. well, at least she was looking at you.

"no," you started, "what are you doing?"

she furrowed her brow, crossing her arms. "i don't know what you're talking about."

seriously? she still wanted to play dumb? you crossed your arms, mirroring her posture. "you know damn well what i'm talking about. you're acting so," you threw your hands up in a mocking manner, "weird. you're not trying to piss me off anymore. which, in turn, is pissing me off even more!"

"are you a masochist, by any chance?" she ridiculed, stifling her laughter.

"no! can you just answer my question?"

chaewon scowled, standing up from her spot on the couch and walking right in front of you. there was an angry red blush settling on her ears, and she had to look up at you. it would be a lie to say it wasn't the least bit cute.

her finger pressed on your chest, forcefully pushing you back by half a step. "i've been acting nice for you, and this is how you respond? can't you be grateful for once in your sorry life!?"

"well i'm sorry that i'm weirded the fuck out when you're always so pissy! can you imagine my reaction when you suddenly start acting like an angel? good thing you don't need to imagine, it's right in front of you," you stepped closer to her, gritting your teeth.

as you looked down you could see slight eyebags messily covered by makeup, and the strands of hair sticking out after she haphazardly tied it into a bun. you almost wanted to reach out and at least move her bangs out of her face.

on the other hand, chaewon was seething. "you know what?" she hissed, glaring at you with such killer intent that it made you shrink back. "i'm glad you're moving out. sakura would be so much better than you."

her anger reflecting in her teary eyes had reached you, yet there was a hint of softness somewhere in them. you sighed in defeat. "...fine."

"fine? hey, wait! i'm not done with you, damn it!"

without waiting for an answer, you grabbed your phone and keys, walking out the door while ignoring the shorter girl's questions and yells.

you found yourself in kazuha's apartment. the basketball player lived by herself, not counting the super blue betta fish she kept in the living room. jinsoul—the betta, you mean—was trained and was even taught to do tricks, like following your finger across the aquarium, swimming through hoops, et cetera.

"so you mean to tell me, you just walked out after fighting with her and let yourself in with my spare key?" kazuha yawned out, dropping a few pellets into the tank. a wide grin spread across her lips as she watched the fish eat.

sometimes it felt like kazuha believed that jinsoul (again, the fish) was her real daughter; it would be laughable if she wasn't so dead serious about it. the topic was always brought up by either you or yunjin when you were over, but was always deflected by the girl.

you groaned, making yourself comfortable on her linen couch. there was a barely noticeable stain in the corner where yunjin had spilled her buldak noodles, to which she apologized profusely and brought over a dozen cleaning products to get rid of it.

safe to say, it was successful, since she, for some reason, already had these products in her car and rushed over to get them.

the three of you were the only ones who knew about the stain. oftentimes you'd forget it was there, but the initial sight of it would crawl out from the back of your mind.

"at least i didn't come back empty-handed. i got you one of those overpriced parfaits from the café down the block," you picked at a stray hangnail, staring at the view of the foliage outside of the window.

kazuha rolled her eyes, suppressing a grin but ultimately failing. she made her way over to you with the parfait, moving your legs so she could sit down. a contented sigh made its way out her mouth after she took the first bite.

her hand reached for the tv remote, pressing the power button and switching to a certain hdmi channel. "i know what would cheer you up."

she reached over to press another button on an old, white console, then pulling out two rectangular controllers. it took a while, but soon you could hear the fan of the wii roar to life and see the familiar opening display on the tv.

it didn't take you long to realize your teammate's intention in booting up the wii. your eyes widened in horror as you watched kazuha push the small coffee table to a corner and select the top left channel which showed the wonders of hell, and your worst fear: just dance 4.

"zuha, you can't be serious."

the girl only hummed and took her last bite of the parfait, which disappeared within seconds. jesus, sometimes you forgot she was practically a vacuum when it came to food.

now, you had no way out of this; you were only able to whine when you got handed the controller, and only able to watch while kazuha scrolled to what was arguably one of the hardest songs: disturbia. and as much as you admired rihanna you could not do this without cracking your hips at least once.

➤➤ fast forward

kazuha struck the final pose without breaking a sweat—completely opposite of you: collapsed against the front of the couch, still fighting your demons after an exhausting four minutes.

the outro of the song, despite having faded away for a few moments, echoed in your head like a haunting wail. your t-shirt was disgustingly drenched in sweat, and you might've passed out if not for the glass of pity-water handed to you by the outdo-er.

"i'm pooped," you groaned, covering your eyes with your arm. kazuha giggled and took a seat next to you, ruffling your already unkempt hair with a free hand. her other hand was holding a glass of water for herself.

"that couldn't have been worse than coach kang's laps. you play center, yet queen rihanna gets you sweating more than a game against our rival school."

"leave me alone," you whined, dragging out the 'e' at the end. "i just got fought with a baby cheetah."

kazuha made a teasing 'oooh' sound, wiggling her eyebrows and making you push her by the shoulder. "you even have a nickname for her?"

"piss off, nakamura," you pinched your the bridge of your nose, "but seriously, that shit drained me. both disturbia and kim chaewon. i just don't understand why she started doing the opposite of what she used to."

"hmm."

"i mean, the look on her face at some point—it was different, unreadable. i couldn't tell what she was feeling. she said i couldn't be grateful for her nice behavior, but is it really my fault? am i the asshole here? ...hey, are you listening?" you blew a strand of hair out of your face, turning to look at kazuha who was rubbing her chin like some sort of psychic.

she scrunched up her eyebrows and cracked her knuckles, hesitating before clearing her throat. "you probably won't believe me, but..."

"but what?" you wrapped your arms around your knees, bringing them closer so you could rest your chin on them.

the other girl sighed and stretched her legs out. "okay, wait. when did this start?"

"after i told her i was planning on switching dorms... wait."

that's right. chaewon had started acting strange the day after she barged into your room, but you had only started noticing two days after, coming home from the gym and needing something you had left in the bathroom.

(the shorter girl came out immediately after you knocked and requested for her to hurry it up. you were faced with a chaewon with her hair still dripping wet and a baby blue bathrobe wrapped around her torso, bringing an involuntary blush to your cheeks. to your surprise, she merely nodded at you and walked into her room without a word.)

"was she trying to make amends...? or convince me to stay?"

"you might want to ask her yourself, y/n."

and as if on cue, your phone buzzed several times in succession. blindly reaching for the device on top of the couch, you squinted through the bright wallpaper to see over 20 notifications from your roommate.

'31 missed calls and 50+ unread messages from kim chaewon.'

you frantically grabbed your keys and scrambled to your feet, ignoring the soreness in your muscles from the earlier dancing session. it was damn near midnight. kazuha stood up to open the door for you, and you thanked her and left in a rush.

you had to go home.

but by the time the adrenaline rush wore off and you'd let yourself into the dorm, your legs had given out and you passed out against the door.

falling, falling, falling.

there were cats falling with you, into the void. there was no start, and thus there was no end. you were only able to look up, seeing countless cats coming out of nowhere and not making a sound.

while you loved cats, there was no reason they should be falling into, well, nothing. then you saw a figure diving towards you with their hand out. you instinctively reached out for them, their face slowly getting clearer as they inched closer.

your hands met. they locked their fingers with yours, and slowly pulled you up with them. there seemed to have been a portal opened up at the "start".

the figure brought you to the portal, making the two of you float just below it. they leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, and flashed a smile.

and just for a moment, they donned the appearance of your darling roommate.

it smelled like coffee.

you didn't remember moving to the couch. your blanket was draped over you and the stupid pinkie pie plush was tucked in with you, and your muscles were extremely sore.

remnants of the night prior flashed in your mind, and you rubbed your eyes. what happened?

chaewon walked to the door, slipping her sneakers on and leaning over the couch to peek at you. not realizing you were awake, she jumped back with a yelp.

"i... i made you coffee and some pancakes for you. they're on the, um. counter. bye—"

you desperately stopped her by the wrist, half-kneeling on the couch. "thank you, can we talk? when you get back?"

the shorter girl had a look of uncertainty in her eyes, but ultimately nodded. the door shut quietly behind her, leaving you alone in the dorm.

reluctantly, you stepped off the couch to go check the breakfast she made you. the faint aroma of the sweets intensified as you got closer to the kitchen, bringing your mood down.

the plate was covered by a paper towel, and on top of it had a hello kitty themed sticky note.

"y/n,

i'm sorry for yesterday. i want to talk later, if that's ok. also, the butter is in the top left of the fridge and i left the maple syrup on the counter.

- chaewon"

you chuckled, releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

this wasn't what you were expecting to wake up to.

you sat across from chaewon at the dining table, both of you waiting for the other to start. you had woken up just before noon, went to the one class that you had today and returned to the dorms after grabbing a few snacks from the convenience store. chaewon hadn't come home until around four, so you took it upon yourself to study in the meantime.

the jasmine tea that you poured for the two of you was steaming hot, releasing clouds of translucency up into the hanging ceiling light above.

"i'm—"

"so—"

you cleared your throat, gesturing towards your roommate as a sign for her to continue. she traced the rim of the ceramic and bit her lip.

"i'm sorry," she started, "i know my behavior as of recently is conflicting."

"it is," you frowned, "but continue."

chaewon lifted the teacup to her lips, sipping slowly. the clink of the coaster resounded throughout the entire dorm. "we've fought for as long as i remember. and we became roommates, and we fell into a routine. it's normal for us to be petty."

it was normal for you to be petty with chaewon. it was like breathing air, drinking water. no matter where you were, as long as she was there then you would hate each other to the ends of the earth.

"when you... suggested a change in that routine, i panicked. i didn't want to get rid of what was normal."

it was a more than a few months into the year. what you and chaewon had built was unmistakably a routine. one that was part of your everyday life, but one that you could not see yourself without. it didn't start at the beginning of the year, but on the day that you had beaten her in a race.

the look on her face was one you couldn't forget. eight-year-old chaewon looked close to tears before she ran away and stole your juicebox the next day. and it transformed into something else, and something more, and whatever was going on now.

you took a moment to appreciate the floral scent of the tea and sipped from your own cup. "i'm sorry too."

"even though it's kind of our brand, i shouldn't have blown up at you like that. i mean," you sighed, "you were going out of your way to be nice.

chaewon took another sip. meeting your eyes with a softened gaze. "so i guess this means truce?"

you smiled. "truce. but i am curious..."

"about what?"

"i know that wasn't the only reason you didn't want me to switch dorms. tell me the other reason."

the girl gulped, averting her eyes. her mind trailed back to a conversation she had just earlier, during a meal she had with sakura in between classes.

("well, she has a point. why don't you want to switch? you know i wouldn't mind, rooming with jennifer sucks," the older girl stated, lifting a few strands of ramen noodles with her chopsticks.

chaewon frowned, taking a bite of a small piece of karaage. she had finished her own bowl of ramen a few seconds ago. "you call her jennifer now? also, i don't know. i just feel bad for what i did, even though it was mutual. i didn't want to lose that familiarity."

"and?"

"and, it's because she's been a part of my life since forever, whether i like it or not."

sakura huffed, slurping up the last of her ramen and setting her chopsticks on top of the bowl. "uh huh. but that doesn't explain why you spent thirty minutes trying to carry her to the couch, brought the one blanket that you don't let anyone touch, not even me or eunchae when she comes over."

"and on top of that, you tucked her in with a my little pony plushie. and then proceeded to make breakfast and coffee for her, without making any for yourself. that's why you're making me pay for your ramen."

the younger girl was taken aback, rendered speechless. she knew what she did, but hearing it out of someone else's mouth was humbling.

the japanese crossed her legs and clasped her fingers together. "you know what you haven't realized, but almost everyone else has?"

"what?")

"i'm in love with you."

you yawned, taking a sip of coffee and stepping out from the kitchenette in your shared dorm with yunjin. the blonde was sitting on the couch with her notebook in hand, probably thinking of lyrics for her next song. after performing at a local festival, you and a few others urged her to continue her music career, and now she was taking the advice seriously.

she seemed to have noticed your presence, turning around and grinning. "hey. your girlfriend's waiting for you outside. are you going out again today?"

you coughed, "chaewon is not my girlfriend! and yeah, i'm taking her to that nice restaurant by the beach, the one that our team went to last time."

"she's not your girlfriend as of right now. how long are you going to make her wait?" yunjin stood up, walking you to the entryway and tossing you your keys, which you caught and tucked into the pocket of your basketball shorts. it was almost summer, only the beginning of june, but it was already impossibly hot.

checking your other pocket for your wallet, you slipped on your sneakers. "i don't know. maybe until the end of today. or maybe next month."

the taller girl sighed, glancing at you worriedly. "maybe you just need a day to reflect on yourself."

you reached for the doorknob. "maybe."

a/n : this is an apology for scrapping the other chaewon fic i had 😁 also crazy drops soon and the chorus has been stuck in my head??

#kim chaewon x reader #chaewon x reader #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim #le sserafim imagines #girl group imagines #girl group x reader #gxg #le sserafim chaewon #kim chaewon

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potatoplace · 1 month ago

Text

Gone

Azriel x Archeron!Reader (deceased), Elriel

the 1 | alternate endings: betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: In the wake of your death, Azriel loses everything. And still, you're dead and gone, an aching void felt in those around you.

Warnings: character death (suicide), dead body of reader, grieving, fuck Azriel

Words: ~2.5k

Author's Note: Yes, the title comes from Rosé's 'Gone'. Go listen to it RIGHT NOW. I would say that even without this fic tho lol love me some Rosie 🫶 So here's the first one of the second parts to the 1! I hope you guys like it, and I hope I did all of the characters' reactions justice (especially Miss Feyre) - ALSO thank you for all the love you've given the 1! It was born out of my own crappy day, I'm happy something good came out of it ☺️

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Azriel quickly made his way back to Elain, doing his best to put the interaction he had just had with you behind him.

His mate.

Elain’s sister… That’s the only way he had ever thought of you.

As a human you had been… Less than average. Hard to look at.

At least in comparison to Elain.

Elain was a breath of fresh air, so lovely and innocent and so entirely unlike him.

And turned fae, she was even more breathtaking.

He had waited for her to realize how truly damaged and scarred he was, and not just on the outside. How entirely unworthy of her he was.

But she hadn’t. She had seen him, loved him, even with how broken he was on the inside.

And he had meant his words to Nesta, when he had said no one would ever compare to Elain, even his mate.

And he was right. You didn’t compare to her.

But as he reached her side and wrapped his arm around his lovely Elain, he couldn’t help but… wonder.

Had he just made a mistake in rejecting the bond so easily?

His free hand came to rub at his chest, which felt like it was being scraped with a knife, a dull, throbbing pain.

“Are you alright?” Elain’s sweet voice asked, and he tilted his head to look down at her.

A small smile graced his lips. “Of course, sweetheart. Come to the balcony with me, will you?”

The ring he had selected for Elain lay in a white velvet box, tucked safely in his jacket pocket. It was a beautiful ring, a silver band inlaid with glittering diamonds, and a stunning pink diamond as the centerpiece.

You had told him that Elain had always wanted a pink diamond ring.

He hoped you weren’t lying, trying to sabotage his proposal.

He wouldn’t put it past you, mating bonds do make fae rather territorial. Even if Elain is your sister.

He shook the thought out of his head, you had never been anything but kind. Boring, yes. Quiet, yes. But always kind.

Azriel smiled at Elain once they reached the balcony, and they stared out over Velaris together for a moment while he gathered his courage.

“Elain,” he said softly, drawing her gaze to him.

“Yes, love?” Elain asked, her lips curving upwards, as if she knew what was coming.

Azriel dropped to one knee and pulled the box from his jacket, reveling in how Elain’s eyes lit up.

“Elain, I have loved you for so long now. In fact, I believe I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you all that time ago, in the human lands. Never did I think that I would have the honor of calling you mine, even once. But now, knowing how wonderful you are, I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. Elain,” he said, cracking open the box and showing her the ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

Tears were streaming down Elain’s face as she beamed down at him. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” She squealed, and Azriel quickly slipped the ring onto her left hand before taking her in his arms and spinning her around. “I love you so much, Az. And how did you know I wanted a pink diamond?” Elain asked once he had set her down, giving her time to admire her new ring.

“Oh, I may have asked Y/N for advice on what you’ve always wanted,” Azriel said.

“Ah, that was smart-”

“Oh my gods!” Feyre screamed, cutting Elain off and causing the pair to look over to her.

“What is it, Feyre?” Rhys asked worriedly, panic on his face after Feyre’s outburst.

Feyre took off running before answering, Rhys following immediately, and the rest of the inner circle exchanged looks before sprinting after them, leaving the confused citizens of Velaris behind.

They skidded to a stop at a balcony, where Feyre was leaning over it, sobbing.

“No!” She screamed, a guttural cry leaving her lips as she collapsed to the floor, Rhys barely catching her in time as she passed out in his arms.

“What is it, Feyre?” Nesta asked as she walked over to the balcony, glancing over the side herself. “Mother above! Y/N!” Nesta yelled, the first time that Azriel had heard true, heart wrenching pain in her voice, and she collapsed next to Feyre, tears streaming down her face.

Y/N?

But what would be wrong with Y/N? Azriel had left her in the hallway, not ten minutes before now.

Elain tugged him over to the balcony, her heart rate picking up just from the reactions of her sisters. When she peeked over the side, a scream left her lips, more wounded and hurt than Azriel thought she would ever sound. “Y/N!” Elain cried as she fell next to her sisters, the three of them huddled together once Feyre came to a moment later, her sobs picking up instantly, her hands clutching at her chest.

Azriel dared a glance over the side, his heart dropping to his stomach when he saw it.

Saw you.

Lying there, unmoving, darkness surrounding your body.

He gasped and stumbled back from the balcony, reality hitting him.

Dead.

You were dead.

You were his mate and you were dead!

Tears streamed down his face, and he couldn’t tell exactly what happened next, but soon enough Cassian was flying back up from the ground, your limp, unmoving body in his arms.

The three sisters’ sobs grew louder when they saw you up close, the three of them surrounding your body where Cassian had gently placed it on the floor. Feyre sat with your head resting in her lap, her hands running through your hair as she sobbed. Azriel watched on, a hand covering his mouth as he beheld your lifeless form.

“Why…? Why would she do this?” Feyre cried, resting her head on Rhys’s shoulder when he sat next to her. “I don’t understand, she was fine just a little bit ago…”

Azriel couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.

“I…” He started, but stopped before he got it out.

Nesta’s head whipped towards him, though. “You…? You what, Azriel?” She snapped.

All eyes followed suit, snapping to Azriel’s form, taking in the tears on his cheeks.

“I… Y/N is… was… my…”

“Spit it out,” Nesta growled, her voice icy with rage and grief.

“Y/N was my mate,” Azriel finally whispered.

Everyone gasped, but it was Elain’s face that broke his heart.

“Y/N was… I don’t understand,” Feyre said softly, watery eyes meeting Azriel’s. “What… What happened?” She asked between teary breaths.

“She… She told me, when she had asked to speak with me, Elain.”

“And?” The sharp question came from Rhys.

Azriel hesitated, but the pressure of all those teary eyes had him answering. “I rejected the bond. Just as I said I would.”

“You what?!” Nesta screeched as she launched her body towards him, only stopped by Cassian’s strong arms wrapping around her waist and holding her back from killing his brother. “You found out about the bond and rejected it in the same night?! In less than ten minutes?!”

Feyre was glaring at him, tears streaming down her face, and he was sure that if she wasn’t still cradling your head in her lap that she would be eviscerating him with Nesta’s help.

And Elain… She was staring at him with such sorrow in her eyes, the love that had been shining in them mere minutes before all but gone.

“I… I thought that it was what I should do, I love Elain,” Azriel explained, but he could tell it was the wrong words by everyone’s shock and disgust.

“So you turned down the bond? Just like that? You couldn’t even think about it? When it was Y/N?!” Nesta yelled, her struggles against her mate renewed with her outrage. “What in the hells is wrong with you?” She snarled, silver flames bursting from her fingers.

“You should go, Azriel,” Feyre said quietly, the calm before the storm. And he didn’t want to be here when his High Lady turned into a raging hurricane.

His gaze snapped to Elain, who had turned away from him, instead focusing on where her fingers were caressing your rapidly paling face.

“Az. Just, go home. Okay?” Cassian suggested, his own expression harder than it normally appeared, but still softer than everyone else around them.

Mor and Amren, who had been quiet throughout the ordeal, gave him pitying looks as he turned to leave, his wings drooping to touch the ground.

The three sisters wails grew in volume as he left them, Feyre’s the loudest among them as she mourned her twin, who she’d already lost in death once before, and nearly again to the terror that was the Cauldron.

He could hear the concerned chatter of the citizens of Velaris nearby, a few people daring to venture into the disallowed areas of the House to see what all the commotion had been about. Quickly, Azriel made his way to another quiet balcony, launching himself into the sky.

Tears were still falling from his eyes when he landed in front of his and Elain’s cottage- though he wasn’t sure if he should even call it that anymore.

She still said yes, his shadows whispered to him quietly, their voices tinged with sadness. But… Our mate… they wept softly, coiling tightly around him.

Azriel threw the door open, making a beeline for the bedroom. He collapsed by the foot of the bed, a sob ripping from his throat.

His mate. Gone.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Three days later and his mate was being lowered into the ground, her decoratively carved wooden casket slowly taking her to her final resting place.

His mate. Dead.

It had been three days since he and Elain had spoken, though they had laid next to each other in silence each night when Elain came home from planning the funeral and mourning in the company of her remaining sisters.

She looked beautiful today, even in dull black mourning garb. Her engagement ring was still sparkling on her ring finger, the one ray of light still left in his life.

He couldn’t help but feel she was slipping through his fingers, though.

A situation entirely of his own making, he supposed.

After the ceremony and during the wake, he waited for Elain to approach him first.

“Hi, Az,” she said softly, settling herself into the chair next to him. He murmured a soft hello back. “I wanted to… Talk to you.”

“Oh? What about, ‘Lainey?”

A slight blush colored her cheeks at the nickname. “I wanted to know… What you said to Y/N. I just… I need to know if it was just the bond being rejected or…” She trailed off, turning her eyes from his hazel ones to the table.

“If I was needlessly cruel to her?”

Elain pursed her lips together. “Yes.”

Azriel sighed. He had hoped he would never need to admit how horribly his last interaction with his mate had gone. “I… I was not kind to her, not like I should have been. I wish I could change how I rejected her Elain.”

Elain’s mouth turned downwards. “What exactly did you say?”

Azriel looked at the ground. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he repeated his awful words to her, her eyes widening by the second.

“I… Azriel, I am sorry, but I cannot marry you.” She slipped the ring, the ring that was so, perfectly Elain, off of her finger and onto the table, sliding it over to him. “I would not be able to marry someone who could say such things to someone, let alone to my sister and their mate. I… I wish you the best. I’ll move my things out of the cottage as soon as possible.”

And with that, Elain stood from the table and walked back to where her sisters and his brothers were sitting, leaving him and his broken heart in her wake.

She’s right, master, the shadows whispered to him. You hurt our mate badly. She is gone.

Tears pricked Azriel’s eyes again.

A few minutes later, a black cloud encroached on his field of view-

His High Lady.

“You said WHAT to my twin?!” Feyre screamed at him, darkness flooding his vision. “You thought being her mate was a joke?! And when it wasn’t a joke, you told her she would never compare to Elain?! And that waiting for your mate, the one who was made for you, was a waste of time?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Feyre raged, her inner beast coming out, only for Azriel to see.

And he was horrified, terrified as his High Lady pinned him to the ground, talons cutting into the skin of his throat and piercing his left wing.

“I should rip you limb from limb,” Feyre hissed, her voice more animal than fae. “It is only for my mate that I will not, but you will leave this court and never return. Better yet, leave the fucking continent so that I am less tempted to hunt you down and slaughter you anyways.”

And then Feyre was off of him, letting her claws slice into his neck, just barely missing his jugular. The darkness receded, leaving him lying on the ground bleeding and Feyre standing over him, appearing as a fae again.

“Azriel.” Rhys approached the two of them, followed closely by Cassian, and extended a hand to help Azriel up. “Brother, you know that I love you. But… You can’t stay here. Not now. Not after… This.” A heavy sigh left his brother’s lips.

Cassian hugged him tightly, careful to avoid brushing against his now punctured wing.

“I’ll miss you, brother. Take care of yourself… Don’t… Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Cassian said quietly, tears shining in his eyes.

“I second that, Az. Be smart, hmm? I’m sure that you’ll find somewhere to hear from this, to change from this,” Rhys said aloud. Then, he spoke into his mind, “I know Feyre said to never return but… If you could, I would like for you to check in with me every month or so. Just to know that you’re alright.”

“I will,” Azriel replied in a soft voice, his throat sore from where Feyre had held him and cut him. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” he added as he regarded the three remaining Archeron sisters, knowing it would likely be the last time he would see any of them.

And then he took to the skies, even with his punctured wing making flight painful and more difficult than it had been since he first learned.

His mate, gone.

His family, gone.

It’s what I deserve.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

'the 1' Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @historygeekqueen @angelbunny222

#gone #the 1 #fuck azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #elriel #archeron!reader #angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #az x reader #az x reader angst #azriel angst #tato writes

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seospicybin · 4 months ago

Text

ON THE ROAD.

PART I

Bangchan, Han & Jeongin x reader. (s,f,a)

Chapters: Part II

Synopsis: A group of friends going on a road trip that, little did they know, will change their lives forever. (19,1k words)

ON THE ROAD PLAYLIST.

Author's note: My inbox is always open for feedback and your wild theories hehehe enjoy this one too! x

A famous author once said that friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too?"

For years, Chan believes that in order to make friends, he has to have common things with them, for example, having the same favorite books having the same hobbies, etcetera.

That's what he thought until he found out that in real life, that's not always the case.

Chan learns all about friendship when he meets his friends. He first met them at the art school 8 years ago and they remain good friends to this very second.

Because they're now living in different places and working in various professions, they have this weekly group video call every Friday at 8 pm.

Chan is so busy editing videos that he almost forgets that it's Friday and it's ten minutes to 8, he hurriedly opens his laptop to start a video call with his friends. He knows it'll take them some time to come online so he notifies his friends through the group chat too, not forgetting to add that he'll not make them watch a foreign movie tonight in the hope that they'll hurry.

That's one thing about Chan, he's passionate about movies and dreams of becoming a great movie director someday. Other than that, Chan has many great qualities about him. He's smart, he's good looking, he lives a healthy lifestyle, and a true social butterfly, something about him that makes people comfortable being around him. Those qualities combined with his dimpled smile create this magnet that attracts a lot of girls.

However, Chan only has eyes on one girl and one girl only.

"Oh, hi, Chris!" A voice that's way too familiar says through the laptop, a voice that evokes something deep within him and sends a tingle down his spine.

"Hi, Jinnie!" Chan says back with a smile.

Jinnie's Friday night is like any other night, she's drawing in her studio with the scented candle filling the room with the soft and sweet smell of vanilla. At times, she'll take a break to sip her tea and check her phone for the time.

It's almost 8 and she wonders why the group chat isn't blaring with notifications, she pouts thinking that everyone is too busy to have a video call tonight.

Just like the universe heard her wistful thinking, her phone chimes with a notification and her face lights up as she opens it.

It's Chan sending a link to the video call. Jinnie wastes no time to get on her laptop and clicks on the link that takes her to where everyone is going to virtually meet. A few seconds later, her face appears on the box on the screen next to Chan and that means she's the first to come online after him which is not a surprise.

"Oh!" She delightfully gasps, feeling happy to see a friendly face even though they had one of the video calls a week ago.

"Hi, Chris!" She greets him while smiling and enthusiastically waving her hand through the screen.

"Hi, Jinnie!" Chan replies with his sweet, dimpled smile.

It's kind of adorable to find him waving with his muscular arms and Jinnie can't help but smile. She adjusts her desk lamp to give her proper lighting then stacks her hands together.

"It's always us, huh?"

"What?" Chan asks as he leans closer to the screen.

"It's always you and me," Jinnie says, pointing at him and then at herself while half laughing.

Chan cracks a laugh at that, "And that means Jeongin will come next."

"Cause we all know who will come last."

"You mean who will come late?" Chan corrects him with a smirk.

Jinnie lowly chuckles and grabs her cup of tea from the other desk, "How are you, Chris?"

"I'm doing great, I guess," he answers.

"I guess?" Jinnie squinted her eyes at him as she repeated his words, "You've been staying up all night again, did you?"

"Well, uh..." Chan tries to make up an excuse but fails, he covers his eyes in embarrassment and laughs it off, "I tried not to."

"Are you working on something?"

"Yeah, I'm editing these videos for a short film I did with a friend," he answers.

"Oh? Is it the same one as the one you told me?"

"No. It's a different one."

"I know you're working, I hope you keep taking care of yourself well, Chris," Jinnie warmly tells him, genuinely concerned as a friend.

Jinnie has always been like that, kind, attentive, and a great illustrator, she's as gentle as the colors she uses in her art. She's beautiful but not solely because she's the only girl in this group of friends.

Jinnie's outer appearance matches her inside and you rarely find that kind of person.

The other often think of Jinnie as an angel that unluckily fell on this part of the earth, right in the middle of this friendship, and has become a blessing to everyone ever since.

"Oh, there's Jeongin!" She gasps, showing the same enthusiastic and bright smile whenever she sees her friends.

In other words, there's lucky to have Jinnie as their friend.

The letter feels heavy on his hand even though it's only a piece of paper, a piece of paper that holds his future and will forever change his life.

Jeongin should be happy, this is what he wants but something is tugging at his chest. He slips the paper back into its envelope and hides it in between pages of the book he's reading.

He reclines on his chair and runs his hands through his hair, feeling torn but he doesn't know what makes him feel that way. He closes his eyes as if it would help him shutting his mind off and ignoring the chimes that come from his phone until he remembers to check it.

Using his hand, he gropes around the table to find his phone without looking and unlocks it to find some notifications, the first three are coming from Chan.

Jeongin rushes on his chair realizing that it's Friday and he forgot about the video call. He immediately gets on his computer and logs into the link Chan sent him through the group chat.

Despite knowing that he's late, he remains calm because he knows he'll not be the last to join, there's someone else who will come later than him.

The screen takes a moment to load the video call and he appears on the lower box between his two friends, Jinnie and Chan.

"Oh, there's Jeongin!" Jinnie exclaims in joy, as beautiful and bright as usual like she's bringing her own sun wherever she goes.

"Well, Chan said we're not going to watch a weird foreign movie so here I am," Jeongin jokingly says.

"Thank you, Jeongin," Chan says, poking his cheek with his tongue, easily offended as expected which truly shows he's the oldest one in this group of friends.

"But the last one we watched was really good," Jinnie says, defending Chan with his exquisite taste in movies.

So here's the thing, everyone knows that Jinnie and Chan would make a perfect couple but it's a mystery why they're not dating yet.

Jeongin knows for sure that Chan has a feeling for Jinnie and it's so obvious, but he can't say the same about Jinnie even though it's impossible that she missed all of those signs.

Or maybe love is a simple thing because Jeongin is someone who watches from the outside and it's different for those two individuals involved. But still, Chan has been there all along and Jinnie doesn't see it, which infuriates Jeongin at times.

Whenever he sees them together, he gets the urge to point out everything but instead of that, he lets out a sigh and then puts on a smile.

"So, how are you guys?" He asks.

Jeongin has always been the quiet one, but don't take his silence as ignorance, he's very observant. He watches everything and remembers everything to the tiniest details, that's also why the others become extremely careful with what they say or do around Jeongin because they know he has their cards under his sleeves.

But being observant also means he has sound judgments about things, he's fair and sensible and that makes Jeongin the most reasonable one.

"I'm great. I'm having a cup of tea with me," Jinnie says, showing the cup of tea she's holding with both hands with her eyes forming two crescents as she smiles.

"And I'm good, thank you for asking," Chan says with his dimpled smile.

"I'm not asking you, Chris," Jeongin jokes.

Chan presses his lips together until they form a thin line and lets out air through his nostrils with his eyes closed while Jinnie is giggling.

"How was the recital going?" Jinnie asks.

"It went well," Jeongin answers.

Honestly, everything went so well, he's still playing piano as always and has shows to do but something about it makes him feel a little distressed that he feels the need to shift the talk.

"Well, we're not watching Chris' weird movie tonight—"

"It's not weird," Chan groans in disagreement and a glare aimed at him.

Jeongin refuses to correct his earlier remark and continues, "So what we're going to do tonight?"

Truthfully, Jeongin really needs the distraction tonight and he doesn't mind at all even if it means he has to endure three hours of watching a movie he can't understand, plot or language-wise.

"I have an announcement," Chan says.

"What kind of announcement?" Jinnie curiously asks with her eyes comically widening.

Chan swivels his chair to the side and plays with a stress ball in his hand, "I can't say anything yet until everyone gets here," he says.

Jeongin groans as he reclines on his chair and covers his face, knowing that it'll take only God knows how long until the last person finally comes online.

"In that case, I'll get myself a can of soda first," he says to everyone, then gets up from the chair.

When he returns to his room, Jeongin notices that the fourth person has joined the video call. Actually, he can hear it even before he enters the room from his babble.

"I know you guys have been waiting for me. No need to get that excited!" Han says, acting like he didn't just make everyone wait for him as usual.

Han is trapped in his own head like usual, arranging words in his head to make good lyrics for the track he made last night. He pictures those words in his head as he hums the melody to himself and then jots them down in his notebook.

He puts the headphones on again to hear the track once more, singing the lyrics to fit the melodies and only realizing that his mom is calling for him once she appears in front of him.

Disoriented, Han sits up on the bed and puts his headphones down, "What's wrong?"

"I've been calling you for dinner!" His mother scolds him.

He lets out a chuckle and takes his headphones off altogether, "But it's only five," he says.

His mother must have been so used to seeing him in his room and unaware of the time.

"I put the dinner in the oven," she informs with a dramatic head shake before exiting his room.

Is it dinner time already? He looks around for his phone on the bed, he's sure it's somewhere in there. He's flinging the duvet and then there's the sound of his phone falling onto the floor.

"Owh?!" He gasps, covering his small mouth with his hand.

Han rushes to the other side of the bedroom and picks it up, fortunately, his phone doesn't crack or break, but the time...

"Oh??!" He gasps again in a rather panicky tone.

It's almost 9, he's late for the video call again. He rushes to his laptop and it won't turn on because it runs out of battery.

"Ugh!" He groans as he struggles to plug it in the first time and groans again as he plops onto his chair.

It's always like this, losing track of time when he starts working on something. He remembers it was only four when he started writing his lyrics and now it's almost 9 pm.

It's like the laptop knows he's in a hurry it decides to take more time to boot and Han nervously taps his fingers against the desk, knowing that he makes his friends wait for him for the umpteenth time.

His fingers are typing as fast as they can to log in to his account but it takes him another moment to load the video call.

"Work faster you piece of a—"

"Welp. There he is!" Chan exclaims, looking annoyed but relieved at the same time.

"Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence," Jeongin says with the right amount of sarcasm in his tone.

"Oh, hi, Han!" Jinnie says, being the most welcoming out of the three.

"I know you guys have been waiting for me. No need to be that excited!" Han playfully says. He knows they're upset and tries to lighten the mood.

In his defense, he didn't do it on purpose. It becomes a habit at this point and he knows everyone will eventually let it slide.

"I guess you've been busy working on your lyrics again, huh?" Jinnie asks, propping her hand under her chin.

"No, I was helping my mom fold the laundry," Han makes a joke out of his own life.

Unlike everyone else, Han is the only one who hasn't figured out yet what to do with his talent for producing music. He's been working on some tracks but that's about it.

"Anyway, what kind of weird movie are we going to watch tonight?" He asks, shifting the talk to something else.

Chan clicks his tongue and says, "Thank you for making it obvious that you didn't read the group chat."

"Well, I opened them but didn't read them like all cool people do," Han confidently says with a sly grin plastered on his face.

Despite the uncertainty of his career, Han thinks he's the coolest of them all and doesn't care if anyone thinks otherwise. He's funny, and he's the mood-maker of the group but in all honesty, he's just being his authentic self 24/7.

"Okay, now since we're all here..." Chan says, sitting upright in his seat.

"Oh, so we're not watching a movie tonight," Han says in utter confusion, this is why he shouldn't be late so he won't miss out on a lot of things.

"Just shh..." Jeongin hushes him with a finger in front of his jutted lips.

"You're not like... dying, right?" Han hesitantly asks because Chan puts on a serious face, "It's cause you look so pale..."

"I've always been pale. What are you talking about?" Chan grumbles in disbelief, not accepting the fact that his pale skin makes him look like he's dying to him.

"Hannie!" Jinnie sharply calls his name, that is her way of sparing herself from using profanities

"I told you to just shh..." Jeongin scolds him more.

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up," Han says with both hands raised in defeat.

"Anyway," Chan reels the conversation back to the main thing and claps his hands together to get everyone's attention, "I need you guys to get days off for a week at the beginning of next month."

"But why?" Jeongin asks.

"Jinnie, Jeongin, I give you guys a month of forewarning so there's no reason you can't do it," Chan explains, not taking any excuses.

"And you're not concerned about me?" Han asks, feeling left out.

"That's because I know you're always available," Chan shortly answers.

"I need to ask permission from my mom!"

"To do what?" Chan squints his eyes at him.

"Permission to go on a road trip with you guys," he innocently answers.

"You're not some 12-year-old going on a school field trip," Jeongin reminds him that he won't be needing that.

"Oh, yeah, okay," Han meekly says with a nonchalant shrug.

"Well, that means I only need to finish some of my drawings early," Jinnie calmly says.

Chan smiles at her through the camera, "I know you can do it," he sweetly says.

"Thank you, Chris," Jinnie says with a smile.

"Wait, wait, you haven't answered my question," Jeongin interrupts the tender moment between the two, "Why?"

Chan sucks air through his teeth and stretches his arms out, not sure if he's trying to show off his muscular arms or just wanted to stretch them out.

"Because we're going on a road trip!" He announces in a cheery tone.

Jinnie grins in reaction and then claps her hands in excitement, "That sounds fun!"

"Where are we going?" Jeongin further asks.

"I don't want to spoil it yet. It's a surprise," Chan replies.

"I doubt that it'll be a good surprise," Han says just to annoy Chan.

"Just trust me on this!" Chan remarks with a confident smile.

"I just can't wait to spend time with you guys," Jinnie warmly says, being not shy to show her excitement which makes Chan get a little flustered.

"For the rest of this month we'll stop the weekly video meeting," Chan comes with a shocking announcement.

It's the only way they can hang out with each other and knowing that they won't meet until further notice kind of bummed him out.

"Why? Why? Why?" Han repeatedly asks like a parrot.

"So you guys can sort things out," Chan explains, "and Jinnie needs time to finish the drawings, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Jinnie looks a little taken aback too, "I'm sad that we'll not be hanging out for weeks."

"But we'll meet again," Chan assures her.

He clasps his hands in front of him and goes into serious mode once more, "I need you guys to gather at Jinnie's on the first day of July and I'll pick you up there," he informs.

Jinnie nods

"What should we pack?" Jinnie asks, even getting her notes ready to write them down.

"Pack clothes for a week, swimsuits, sunblock, hiking shoes..." Chan lists various things.

"Hiking shoes?" Han gasps, "I'm not going then."

"Even better," Jeongin lightly comments.

"Any more questions?" Chan asks everyone.

Han raises his hand even though he's not in a class, "How's your little sister doing?"

This is where Chan gets a little more serious, he hisses and then says, "I'm not taking any more questions then."

"Why are you so against us dating?" Han pokes fun at him, knowing that he doesn't like it, especially when he asks about his sister.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we become in-laws? We can be brothers for real!" Han annoys him more.

"I'm going to say this once and for all, I don't want to become in-laws with any of you," Chan firmly remarks and then crosses his big arms together.

"So that means you're okay with us dating..." Han relentlessly annoys him with a smirk dance on his face.

Jeongin drops his head into his hands and shakes his head witnessing the interaction while Jinnie is quietly giggling with her cup of tea in hand.

"How am I going to survive not seeing you guys for weeks?" Jinnie sadly says with a pout.

"Not me. I'll manage," Jeongin coyly says, reclining on his seat while playing with his hair.

"We'll see each other soon," Han assures her this time.

Jinnie smiles and cups her cheeks with both hands, "I can't wait to see you all," she says.

There's a moment of silence but the comfortable kind and not conjure any questions, everyone lets it go on for another moment before it gets to the time to end the video meeting.

"See you guys soon," Jinnie says, blowing air kisses through the camera.

"See you guys. Don't miss me," Han says with a sly grin on his face.

"There's no being late," Chan warns a specific someone.

"Jeongin, don't be late!" Han averts the blame to Jeongin.

Jeongin shakes his head again and raises his hand at everyone, "Bye, everyone!"

"See you guys in a few weeks," Chan says, waving his hands close to the camera then ends the video meeting.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

When you asked Chan if you could tag along on their road trip, he said no for what you guessed these two reasons: one, he hates seeing you around the boys and two, he hates for you to see him act around the girl he likes.

But, of course, in the end, he said yes for one solid reason: because you're his sister and he can't say no to you.

It's so obvious that Chan is nervous and you guess it's because he's going to meet the friends he hasn't met in weeks and more importantly, a certain someone that he secretly misses but can't tell.

As Chan's little sister, you notice these kinds of things, the change of attitude or how he gets nervous all of a sudden.

"Unclench your jaws, Chris," you remind him.

"I'm not—" he stops himself from talking and does as you told him, unclenching his jaws.

He may have unclenched his jaws but now his shoulders tense up. You take matters into your own hands and push his shoulder down.

"You're way too nervous to see a friend," you poke fun at him.

"Shut up!" He spews out and you know it's coming out of his nervous system.

Everyone knows that Chan likes Jinnie and he's always been for only God knows how long, you guess you're not the only one annoyed by the fact that they're not dating yet because they're just so perfect for each other.

"Okay, shutting up now," you say, making a gesture of zipping your lips together to not let the scary mad Chan come out.

The car makes a turn toward an apartment building and Chan parked it next to the entrance. It seems like Jinnie has been waiting for his arrival, she comes rushing down the stairs from the second floor where her apartment is.

"Oh, my God! Chris!!!" She excitedly comes up to him with open arms

Chan is obviously as excited to see her and catches her right into his arms, he even lifts her off the ground for a moment and gives her a spin.

They're so stinking cute that you can't help but smile watching them through the rearview mirror.

"Good to see you!" She says once he puts her down.

"Good to see you too," Chan says back while holding her hands in his.

When you deem that it's the right moment to insert yourself into the scene, you get out of the car and slowly make an entrance.

They're so immersed in each other that you hesitate to burst their cute little bubble.

"Hi!" You awkwardly wave your hand at her.

Jinnie's face lights up when she sees you, "Oh, hi! Long time no see!"

You come up to her to exchange a hug with her, "Long time no see, indeed."

The fact that she, possibly, would become your sister-in-law doesn't bother you at all, Jinnie is as perfect as one can be. She's beautiful and kind, the nicest human you've ever known, you couldn't be happier if that becomes true.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought her along," Chan says, flashing a thin smile at you.

You shoot him a side eye in return and stay by Jinnie's side.

"Are you kidding? I'm happy that I have a girl companion," she says, pulling you close to her side and squeezing on your shoulder.

"Jinnie, do you mind if I use your bathroom?" You ask, getting the urge to pee all of a sudden.

"Not at all. I'll take you—"

"That's okay. I know where to go," you kindly refuse her help to show you where her bathroom is.

That way, you can give them another moment to catch up with each other. As you climb the stairs to Jinnie's apartment, you see how Chan is grinning from ear to ear and it seems like it will stay like that until the road trip ends. Maybe that's also another reason why he agreed to let you join the road trip, Chan needs a good wingman by his side.

The moment he got out of the taxi, Han immediately thanked Jeongin non-stop.

"Thank you Yang Jeongin," he says, calling Jeongin by his full name.

"If you didn't pick me up, I'd be dead late," he grumbles, lowering his voice as he's a bit ashamed to admit it.

"I just knew you'd be late," Jeongin says while hoisting the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder.

Han hurriedly puts on a smile to greet his friends, acting like he almost got here late for the road trip. He sees his two friends, Chan and Jinnie putting their stuff in the back of the car.

"Rejoice everyone. Your favorite boy is here!" Han announces his arrival while walking in big, confident strides.

Chan and Jeongin just leer at him and Jinnie is the only one giving him a proper welcome.

"It's so nice that everyone's here!" She exclaims, smiling even brighter than the scintillating sun.

She gathers everyone into a circle and puts her arms around Han and Chan's shoulders.

"I missed you guys," Jinnie says, jumping on her feet like a child. She really is the special glue that sticks them all together.

Deep down, everyone feels the same way, Han must say it feels good to reunite with them, it evokes the same feeling of coming home. They're huddling together for a big group hug, relishing that longing for each other.

Han breaks away first to take the last empty spot on the trunk for his backpack, "Dibs!"

Chan and Jeongin groan in unison but at the same time, not surprised to see this display of childish behavior from Han. Chan continues organizing everyone's stuff in the trunk with Jeongin's help while Han comes around the car.

"I'm riding shotgun!" Han shouts, calling dibs for the passenger's seat.

Jinnie appears from behind the car, "I think Chan's sister will ride shotgun," she informs.

Han thinks he misheard her, he lingers by the car door and turns to ask her, "Who?"

"Chan's sister, she's coming with us for the— oh, there she is!" Jinnie points at the stairs.

Han's eyes are following where she's pointing and turns his head that way.

"Oh, everyone's here!" You say as you look at everyone from the top of the stairs.

Time suddenly goes so slowly as you descend the stairs, softly smiling as the gust of wind blows your way, sending your hair flying, and with the sun shining down at you, it creates a halo around your head.

Jeongin accidentally bumps him as he opens the car door, "sorry," he shortly says.

Han is completely gobsmacked to care, his eyes just can't stop following you even after you arrive at the base of the stairs and walk up to the car.

"I think it's true," Han foolishly says with a gaping mouth.

"Huh? What?" Jeongin asks in confusion.

"When the love is real... it finds a way," Han dramatically sighs with eyes big and wide like seeing something so wondrous.

Jeongin gives him the side eyes, but he decides to ignore him and gets into the car.

"I'm going to lock my apartment first," Jinnie informs, going up the stairs to her apartment.

"Hi, Han," you greet him.

Han tries not to crumble hearing you calling his name and instead of answering, he awkwardly raises his hand at you with a stupid grin on his face.

"Are you sitting in the front?" You ask.

Han's brain is not well functioning yet and it takes more time for him to compute a word.

"Well, then I'm going to take my bag," you say, stepping forward and getting in between him and the car door to take your bag from the passenger's seat.

The smell of your perfume is sweet and soft yet it's enough to get him intoxicated, he wants more of it. He suddenly has no desire to ride a shotgun and arranges a new plan in his head.

He rushes to the back of the car and yanks at Jeongin's jacket, "Jeongin, get in the backseat!"

"What?" He asks in utter confusion.

"Get in the backseat! Hurry!" He urges him, opening the seat to the back so he can move.

Doesn't want to deal with him, Jeongin reluctantly moves to the back as requested and Han sets the seat right back up, then keeps the car door open for you.

"Get in," Han says to you.

"Oh, thank you," you mutter, carrying your bag in one hand as you get in.

Noticing Jeongin in the backseat, you smile and greet him, "Hi!"

"Hi," Jeongin sheepishly says to you.

Han sees that Jinnie has returned from locking her apartment and hurriedly opens the car door for her, "You can sit in the front, Jinnie."

Jinnie looks at him, perplexed, "I thought you are..."

He can't hear the rest of what she's saying as he gets into the car and sits next to you.

"I hope it's okay that I tag along for the road trip," you say, putting your bag on your lap.

Han realizes that he should get his act together and forces his brain to function, "It's more than okay," he says with a smile.

This road trip turns into a chance of a lifetime for him. What could be more fun than being stuck in a moving vehicle with a girl he likes?

Chan gets into the driver's side, sighing as he's exhausted from arranging the trunk, and puts the keys into the ignition.

Oh, fuck, Han forget about the part that her brother is in the mentioned moving vehicle too, and drives it. Now, his sense of protection is heightened after seeing you sitting next to him.

"What's with this seat arrangement?" He asks, glaring at Han through the rearview mirror.

He innocently shrugs while Jeongin is staying quiet in the backseat by himself, enjoying the spacious seat for himself.

Jinnie is the last to enter the car and lets out a delighted sigh once she buckles her seat belt. She then looks around at the people in the back and asks, "Everyone is ready to go?"

In response to her question, Jeongin raises a thumbs-up while Han is weakly cheering with his fists in the air and you're laughing at him.

Jinnie then turns her head at Chan and says, "Let's go!"

And just like that, the road trip begins.

Everyone else thinks that Han's liking toward you is just a joke and he does that as a way to annoy Chan. Unfortunately, it's not.

He admits that at first, he didn't think of you that way. The very first time he received the information that Chan has a sister, he thinks of you not more than that, a younger sister of his friend.

That night Chan invited everyone to the bar to celebrate his birthday and you've recently turned 21 that year which is why your brother finally took you along with him to hang out with his friends for the first time and he believes that was when things take a different turn.

Han met you once, briefly at Chan's graduation and you've just entered college at that time. When he met you again that night, he almost couldn't recognize you because you've grown so much.

You were just a young girl when he met you for the first time and that night, he saw that girl had flourished into a grown woman and attracted him immediately.

He was so deeply mesmerized by you that he just stared at you the whole night that Jeongin had to constantly snap him out of his head.

The one moment that got him enamored is when you decided to take your jacket off that night and revealed the white camisole you wore that night, he could tell you were wearing nothing underneath because your nipples were poking through the silky fabric. He remembers watching you enjoy the night and dancing your heart out with Jinnie the whole night.

Han couldn't get you out of his head ever since, he grew some sort of infatuation with you, and he followed you on your social media.

When he feels bold enough, he slides into your DMs and asks how you're doing. Chan doesn't know and the fact that he's still oblivious about it means that you don't mention it to him and that's good, it spares him from his doom coming sooner than everyone else's.

Now that he gets to see you in person, sitting side by side when all he could do was just admire you through the pictures you posted. It feels a little surreal that he has to pinch himself a few times to convince him that you're real.

Since Chan is busy talking with Jinnie in the front, he takes it as an opportunity to talk with you because he's wasted three hours secretly staring at you.

"So, how are you doing?" He awkwardly asks while still getting used to sitting next to you.

"I'm doing great," you shortly answer, placing your hand on the space between you and him.

"I heard you're working at the magazine now?" He asks, making it sounds like he heard it from Chan but he actually knew it from your Instagram post.

"Yes, I am," you answer with a sheepish smile.

"I think that's great!" He praises and tries to keep his excitement in check.

"I'm just a copy editor for now. I don't think it's that great," you sheepishly say.

"No, I think that's great," Han feels the need to convince you so he seeks validation from a third party, "Right, Jeongin?"

Jeongin scratches his chin and stifles a nod, "Yeah. That's great!"

"Thank you," you mutter with a shy smile and tuck your hair behind your ear, "How about you? How are you doing?

"Good," he shortly answers but he knows you need more from his answer, "I've been working on a few tracks."

When it comes to you, Han doesn't feel like the coolest person but the objective remains the same, he wants to impress you.

"And I worked on that thing," he scratches his head while considering whether it's right to share it with you.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and look at him, "Worked on what?"

"I made this jingle for an ad," he hesitantly shares.

You shift your body toward him and ask further, "Do I know this ad or...?"

Seeing that you're genuinely curious about it, Han gains a little confidence to share more.

"It's for a shaving cream commercial and it goes like this..." Han starts humming the melody and serenading it to you.

"Didn't you do that thing last year though?" Jeongin interrupts his serenading with a truth bomb.

Han looks over his shoulder and glares at him, making Jeongin see his displeased expression that he's not a great wingman at the moment.

"Yeah, but..." he turns his body more to look at him but can't find something to defend himself.

"I did that," he continues as his confidence deflates in each passing second, "nonetheless."

"Everyone," Jinnie says from the front, "We're going to stop for gas."

Even Jinnie makes a better wingman than Jeongin and she's clueless about what happened in the back earlier.

"Oh, great timing! I need to go to the bathroom," you exclaim, gathering your hair to put it into a ponytail.

This is not a good start, he can tell that you're not impressed at all and far from attracted to him. He consoles himself with snacks, eating them right outside the convenience store.

"I blew that up," he sighs, then shoves chips into his mouth.

"That's because," Jeongin says, then pausing to take another sip of his soda, "you keep staring at her like a creep."

Han elbows his side quite hard that Jeongin yelps, "and you didn't help at all," he grumbles with his cheeks full of food.

"You're hopeless," Jeongin easily replies and steals some chips from Han.

"And you didn't think that's why I need the help?" Han grumbles again and shoves more chips into his mouth.

Jeongin coyly shrugs as he drains his can of soda empty then proceeds to crumple it and toss it into the trash bin.

"Hey, what are you guys having?" You appear from the corner along with Jinnie.

"Where's Chris?" Jinnie asks while fixing her hair.

"He's inside," Jeongin points to the convenience store.

Han quickly swallows everything in his mouth and brushes the crumbs on the front of his shirt, "Do you want some?" He offers you his bag of chips.

"Do you have something sweet with you?" You ask.

"I do, I do," he eagerly answers, rummaging through the bag of snacks he bought and pulling out a pack of strawberry jellies, "I think you'll like this."

"Oh, no, I'm allergic to strawberries," you inform.

Han quickly pulls out another pack of snacks from the plastic bag, "How about this?"

You take it from him and delightfully gasp, "Oh, I love these."

Chan comes out with Jinnie carrying packs of drinks for everyone and without warning, he tosses the car keys at Jeongin, fortunately, he has a good reflex and catches it right into his hand.

"Your turn to drive," Chan says to Jeongin.

Jeongin doesn't say anything else but walks up to the car with everyone following him from the back.

Han opens the car door for you when Chan grabs your hand and stops you on the track, "You ride shotgun."

"Yes, sir!" You also obey without complaint.

"And you," Chan points at Han, "Get on the backseat!"

Han frowns that Chan purposely separates the two of you and reluctantly goes to sit by himself in the back while Chan and Jinnie sit in the middle.

From the back of the car, Han can only watch you share the pack of chocolate maltesers with Jeongin in the front.

After four hours of driving, the car stops for dinner and everyone gets so quiet once the food arrives.

Chan makes sure everyone has finished so he can have all of their attention as he explains what the next plan is. Before you can ask for his dessert, he slides his plate towards you.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" He says.

Jeongin is mindlessly stirring his glass of soda with the straw but putting his attention on him meanwhile Han is slowly dissociating so Chan snaps his fingers right in front of his face to reel him back to reality.

Han swats his hand away and groans, "I'm listening, I'm listening."

"Okay, so, we're not going to continue to drive," Chan announces.

"Oh? We're sleeping somewhere for the night?" Jinnie asks, then dabs her mouth with a napkin, "And I need you guys to sleep early tonight because—"

"Because of what?" Han asks as he lazily brushes his hair to the back.

Chan sighs because Han cuts him off instead of letting him continue talking, "Because we have to leave early tomorrow morning."

"And where are we going?" You ask, sliding the plate back to him. Chan glares at you for leaving a small piece of dessert for him and you grin at him in return.

"Let me guess, surprise?" Han says with a mocking grin.

Chan scoops the last piece of cake into his mouth and ignoring Han's insinuation, he has a way to get back to him.

"Who voted for Han to pay the bill?" He says with his hand already raised in the air and Jeongin is the next one to raise his hand.

"W-what? Why? Why me?" Han blabbers in a slight panic.

Everyone turns their heads at Jinnie and since two of his friends already voted for him, she follows the majority and hesitantly raises her hand.

"Sorry," she meekly mutters at Han.

When it comes to you, you hurriedly shake your head and refuse to be a part of their shenanigans. Chan intensely glares at you, pressuring you to also raise your hand.

"Please, leave me out of this," you plead.

Having no other way to make you do what he tells you to do, Chan grabs your hand and raises it in the air. He then triumphantly grins at Han until his dimples sunken into his cheeks.

"Everyone says 'Thank you, Han'!" He orders.

"Thank you, Han!" Everyone says in unison while Han is slumped on his seat, suddenly not looking drowsy anymore.

With the information gained from the restaurant staff, Chan easily found the motel a ten-minute drive away. Arrive there, he immediately goes to check in while everyone is getting their belonging from the trunk.

Without saying anything, Jeongin hands you a bag and you look at it for a moment until you realize that it's yours.

"Oh, thank you," you mutter.

You also take Chan's bag, it's so heavy and you bet he's taking his laptop and camera with him which only reminds you to be careful with it. Once he gets back with the room keys, you hurriedly hand him his bag.

"This one is for the ladies," Chan hands one of the keys to Jinnie.

"Got it," Jinnie says, linking her arm with you to start walking to your room.

Everyone is heading the same way since the boys are staying in the next room. You can't wait to lie down after spending more than ten hours sitting in the car.

"It seems like we're sharing the bed," Jinnie says, seeing there's only one bed in the room.

"Don't worry, I don't snore like my brother," you immediately remark as you throw yourself onto the bed and sigh in delight.

Jinnie laughs as she unpacks her bag, "Wait... Chris snores?"

You roll to the side and prop a hand under your head, "I thought you knew," you say.

"I've seen Chris sleeping but he didn't snore," Jinnie shares, taking clean clothes out of her bag.

"Of course," you talk to yourself, Chan wouldn't let his crush know about his sleeping habit especially something as bad as snoring.

"What's that?" Jinnie asks, hearing you mutter to yourself.

"I just remember I need to charge my phone," you lie, rolling over to the other side to rummage through your bag.

"Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?" Jinnie politely asks, holding her clothes close to her chest.

"Sure," you answer with your hand still groping around to look for your phone charger. Getting hopeless, you call for Jinnie as she's about to enter the bathroom.

"Hey, Jinnie, can I borrow your charger?"

She stops on her track and then puts her clothes on top of the dresser, "Sure," she says, going back to her bag to get it and give it to you.

"I think I dropped my phone in the car," she mutters as she looks through her bag.

"Oh, no," you mumble but an idea comes to mind.

"I can call Chris to help you find it," you offer, turning her misfortune into an opportunity to set them up.

"No, it's okay. It's probably under the seat of the car," she says but she looks worried.

"Are you even sure that you dropped it in the car?" You ask, making her doubt herself.

Jinnie looks concerned now that she clasps her hands together in front of her, "I don't want—"

Before she gets to finish her sentence, you hit call on Chan's number and he picks up on the third ring.

"What's up, baby sist?" He slurs his words, he's just as tired as everyone.

Without greeting him first, you talk straight into the phone, "Jinnie dropped her phone in the car. Can you help her find it?"

You hear rustles from the other end of the call and his tone changes all of a sudden, "Just need to get my car keys and I'll be on your door in a minute."

There's no need to plead or beg, you only need to mention Jinnie's name and he's ready to do anything, he'd probably move mountains for her too if she asked for it.

You hold the urge to laugh and calmly look at Jinnie, "He'll be here soon," you tell her.

"Oh, thank you," Jinnie says, canceling her plan to wash up and putting her sweater back on.

A few minutes later, the knocking comes on the door and Jinnie goes to open it. You peek from the side to watch the interaction.

"Heard you dropped your phone in the car," Chan says to her.

"Yeah, I hope I didn't disturb you," Jinnie says.

"Not at all," he immediately says.

Jinnie looks at you and you pretend to be busy looking at your phone, "Hey, I'm going out for a bit."

"Yeah, sure, take your time," you say with a smile then realize that you're not using the right tone.

"Hope you find your phone," you quickly add.

Jinnie is trailing behind Chan as they walk back to the parking lot and he hurriedly unlocks the car at the first sight of it.

"I'm sure it's somewhere in the middle seat," Jinnie says, opening the car door and going straight to feel the gap between the seats.

"I'll look from the other side," Chan says.

He walks around the car and looks from the other side, he turns on the flashlight from his phone and shines it under the seat. All he finds are candy wrappers and he knows who the culprit is.

"Let's get these seats up," he suggests, turning the lever to fold the seats and making it easier to search for the phone.

As they're busy looking for the phone, their heads meet in the middle, and bumps against each other. Chan reflexively reaches for Jinnie's head and rubs on it.

"I'm sorry," he says while giggling, "Are you okay?"

Jinnie can't answer as she's busy laughing and after taking a breath, she nods, "I'm okay."

"You know, it'll be much easier to call you," he says, coming up with a faster way to find the phone a little too late.

"Why didn't I think of that earlier?" Jinnie says, feeling embarrassed as she holds her hair from curtaining her face.

Chan looks for her number and presses the call buttons, he waits for the dialing tone while Jinnie looks around in the dark.

"Oh, I heard it!" She gasps.

The muffled ringtone comes from the back and Chan flips the seat to the front, discovering Jinnie's phone caught between the seats. With his long arm, Chan outstretches his arm to get it and hurriedly hands it to her.

"Thank God!" She sighs in relief and takes the phone from him.

Chan closes the car door and quickly locks it again, he checks by pulling at the car handle to know if it's locked for good.

"I was so scared that I dropped it somewhere else," Jinnie shares, clutching her phone close to her chest.

"I'm glad you found it," Chan says, smiling because he feels good knowing that he makes Jinnie happy.

"Thank you for helping, Chris," Jinnie sincerely says with a smile that is as soft as the moonlight.

Chan would do anything to see that smile on Jinnie's face again, he then looks away before it gets too intense.

"Don't mention it," he coyly says.

As they walk back to the rooms, their hands lightly grazing each other's, and on a nice, summer night like this, Chan feels tempted to hold her hand.

He looks down and her hand is right there, a grasp away from him. All he needs to do—

Jinnie draws her hands and crosses them together in front of her, "I'm so curious where you'll take us tomorrow," she says.

Chan clears his throat and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"Trust me, you guys will like it," he confidently says, "especially you."

Jinnie looks at him with a bewildered expression, "Me?"

"Yeah," he nods and grins.

"That only makes me more excited for tomorrow," she says, hugging herself tighter as a gust of wind blows their way.

Jinnie stops right in front of your shared room, she looks at Chan who's standing on the door to his room, "Thanks once again, Chris."

"It's not a big deal," he says with a smile.

Jinnie knocks on the door and a while later, you open the door with your head wrapped in a towel, "Did you find it?"

"Yeah," she answers, showing you the phone in her hand.

"That's a relief!" You exclaim, then step to the side to let her in.

Jinnie looks at Chan for one last time and smiles, "Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight," he says back, and once Jinnie gets inside, his foolish smile drops from his face knowing that you're watching him.

"Get back inside. Lock the door and sleep!" He strictly orders.

"Yes, sir," you reply along with a salute.

You grab the handle of the door and take one more chance to poke fun at him.

"Goodnight, Chris," You try your best to copy Jinnie's soft tone of saying it and quickly close the door before Chan gets the chance to scold you.

When Chan said they needed to leave early the next day, Han didn't think it would require him to wake up at 6 in the morning.

He doesn't know how Chan did that because he was the last one to sleep but he also woke up the earliest and even brought breakfast with him when he came to the room.

"Your turn to drive today," Chan says, throwing the car keys and clanging against the floor as Han fails to catch them.

"Ugh..." he lets out an exhausted groan and picks them up from the floor.

Concerned with his state, Chan grabs his shoulder and squeezes, "You sure you can drive?"

Han knows that if he says no, then Chan will take the task from him and he doesn't want that, Chan already did so much. He's sure he's more tired than everyone.

"Yeah, I can drive," he assures him with a not-so-convincing smile.

The doubts linger in Chan's eyes, he gives him a pat on the back and then says, "You know what? I'll get you another cup of coffee!"

The sun is peeking from the horizon and slowly climbs its way out, the sunray hits his eyes as Han arrives at the parking lot.

He unlocks the car from a meter away and puts his bag in the trunk first before walking to the driver's side.

"Ugh..." he groans again with one hand on the handle of the car door.

The last person who drove was Jeongin and thanks to his long limbs, Han has to readjust the seat because his arms aren't long enough for the steering wheel.

He's yawning as he takes his phone out and connects it to the car stereo, at least, being a driver means he has full control over the music.

"Morning," Jinnie cheerily says, with a smile that shines brighter than the morning sun.

Something about her smile that makes him can't help but smile back.

"Morning," he says back, "Do you need help with the bag?"

"It's okay. I'll do it myself," She says, heading to the back of the car.

Not long after, Chan comes carrying bags on each shoulder but looking unbothered by them, he ends up helping Jinnie with her bag. Jeongin comes next, handing his bag to Chan before getting into the car and sitting in the back.

Han is busy scrolling his phone to compile a playlist for the trip to realize that everyone is already getting in except for one person.

He looks to the back and sees Chan sitting in the middle with Jinnie so that means...

"I have your coffee with me," you say, climbing into the passenger's side.

He turns his head to the back to check if Chan approves of this seating arrangement but he's already snuggled up in his hoodie to sleep.

"Americano, right?" You ask, handing the cup of coffee to him.

"Oh?" Han looks at you and then at the coffee.

The second he realizes that you're waiting for him, he hurriedly gets it from you, "Thank you!"

Sensing that the coffee is hot, he carefully puts it into the cup holder and turns on the car engine. He waits until you're buckled in to start driving.

"So, where are we going?" He asks in utter confusion.

You let out a chuckle thinking that he's joking and Han chuckles as well, maybe it is a joke that he didn't ask Chan where to go before he started driving.

"Chris said you only need to follow the GPS," you inform.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," he feels embarrassed to ask and even more embarrassed to say that he is not good at multitasking.

It feels as if you read his mind, you look at him and say, "Don't worry. I'm a good navigator."

The cool morning air is so refreshing that Han doesn't feel sleepy anymore and with every sip of coffee, he feels more awake than ever.

He looks through the rearview mirror and sees that everyone in the back is sleeping so that means only you and him are awake in the car.

"Oh, wow, look at that," You sigh at the view of the sun rising on a hill, "It's beautiful!"

Han briefly glances away from the road to see it but the view he sees is of you and your hair flying around your face basking in the soft glow of the morning sun.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," he mutters and looks back at the road.

He's only an hour away from the destination but he likes this scene, the view and the road ahead of him, the person sitting next to him, also the faint music that plays through the car stereo. He wants to stay in it for a little longer.

"I love this song!" You exclaim out of the blue as the playlist plays a new song.

Han recognizes the song right away because it's coming from his playlist and it's one of his favorites.

"You know this song?"

"The Beatles, right?"

"Yes."

"It's in one of the playlists you sent me," you tell him.

The playlist is Han's love language. When he likes someone, instead of flowers or chocolate, he compiles a playlist of songs that reminds him of that person and gifts it to them.

When he sent them to you, Han isn't that confident that you will heartily listen to them because it's just a playlist of songs and you'd barely see the romantic gesture behind it.

"I'd like to be under the sea..." you start singing along to the song.

"In an octopus's garden in the shade..." Han joins in on the second line while keeping his eyes on the road.

"He'd let us in, knows where we've been. In his octopus's garden in the shade..." Together you sing the rest of the verse while smiling as the sun is getting higher in the sky.

"In an octopus's garden with you... In an octopus's garden with you..."

The GPS says the destination is only ten minutes away and it's directing him to turn onto the small road with nothing but trees that line up on each side.

"Are we going the right way?" Han asks you in a slight panic, not seeing any road signs.

You check the GPS and turn to look at him, "You're going the right way, yeah," you confirm.

Han bends down to see if there's any sign of life or if Chan accidentally puts the wrong address into the GPS.

"I'll wake my brother," you offer, turning around in your seat and outstretching your arm to reach Chan who's still sleeping.

You manage to grab the sleeve of his hoodie and yank at it, "Chris, wake up!"

Instead of Chan, Jinnie is the one who answers your call, "Mmh, are we there yet?" She asks.

"We're not sure," you answer and yank harder at Chan's hoodie.

Jinnie notices you need the help, she places her hand on Chan's arm and gently shakes him awake, "Chris?"

On the second try, Chan finally wakes up to Jinnie's call and you roll your eyes because it's getting ridiculous now that he recognizes her voice well instead of his sister.

Han decides to pull over to the side of the road and turns his head around, "are we going to the right place?"

Chan pulls down his hoodie and quickly brushes his curls to the back, he closes his eyes for a moment to adjust them to the light.

One glance at the GPS and he slumps back on his seat, "Yes, it's right," he slurs his words.

"Why am I not seeing anything else but trees?" Han hesitates but keeps driving anyway.

"Just keep going," Chan mumbles, getting a bottle of water and drinking it.

A moment later, Han's doubt is answered as a sign appears in front of him and it says that the campsite is 100 meters away.

"Oh, my God!" Jinnie loudly gasps, making everyone in the car startle in surprise, including Jeongin who's just woken up from his nap.

She looks at Chan with eyes widening and sparkling, "We're going camping?"

With a stupid grin on his face, Chan answers, "Yes."

While the boys are busy setting up the big tent, you and Jinnie are making sandwiches for lunch. Jinnie does most of the work while all you do is unwrapping the cheese singles and preparing the loaf of bread.

This is one of those moments that makes you think how can someone be this perfect? Jinnie is beautiful, smart, kind, and patient, she's great at drawing and now, you find out she's good at cooking too.

"What can't you do? Really?" You praise in awe as she meticulously arranges the ingredients from the vegetables to the condiments.

She lets out a shy chuckle in reaction and doesn't let it get to her head, she's concentrating hard on putting everything together without making a mess.

"You're an only child, right?" You curiously ask.

Jinnie wraps each sandwich with a food wrapper and does it so meticulously as if she's wrapping a gift, "Yes, I am."

"Would you like a younger sister?" You jokingly say.

She smiles at you and hands you the first sandwich she wrapped, "I already think of you as a younger sister," she says.

You grin at that and put the wrapped sandwich into the basket, "We should make it official then," you teasingly say.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"You know... you can be my sister-in-law," you coyly say while paying attention to her reaction.

Jinnie shakes her head in disbelief and shyly laughs, "You silly!"

It's too obvious for her to miss it, right? She should have known that you're hinting at something and it's your way to cajole her to open up but in the end, you're always the one left puzzled by the mystery of why Jinnie and Chan's ship is not sailing yet.

The peaceful nature sounds are interrupted by the sound of Chan hammering the spike to pin down the tent while Jeongin is setting the canopy. He pauses once he notices that you're struggling to carry the cooler box by yourself. He rushes to get it from you and puts it down next to the tent.

As a form of gratitude, you grab a can of soda from the cooler and hand it to him, "Here!"

Jeongin softly smiles and it's enough to make his dimples appear on both of his cheeks, "Thanks!"

"Baby sist, I want one too!" Chan grumbles as he sits on the ground, also exhausted from setting the tent.

It's fine when he called you that ten years ago but as you grow older, he should know that you've outgrown that pet name. You let it slide because his friends got used to hearing him calling you that around them.

"Catch!" You warn before tossing it his way and he catches it right in his hand.

Jinnie comes not long after, carrying the sandwiches along with some snacks on the side, "Lunch is ready!" She announces, putting everything on the table.

Han hurriedly carries more folded chairs and arranges them around the table. Everyone stops working to huddle around the table for lunch.

"Is it done?" Jinnie asks while distributing the sandwiches around.

"Yeah, we just need to put the mat and sleeping bags inside but we can do it later," Chan answers, ripping through the wrapper and taking a hearty bite.

Despite it being the beginning of summer, there are only two other campers on the site. But that's a good thing, it's not crowded and it won't spoil the serene, relaxing experience of camping.

The lunch feels so rewarding, especially to those who worked on the tent and everyone gets so quiet after. You and Jinnie work together to gather the trash and put it into a plastic bag.

"So... what now?" Jeongin asks, glancing his eyes from side to side.

Chan crumples the empty can in his hand and puts it into the trash bag, "We're resting for now and we'll go hiking in an hour."

"Hiking?" Han asks in panic, not in favor of the idea.

"I told you to bring hiking boots for one specific reason," Chan explains, putting his hat backward and then reclining on his seat.

Han slumps on his seat and makes those high-pitched groans while flailing his arms in the air.

To avoid the harsh sunlight, the hike starts a little after three and the boys are tasked to carry a backpack full of snacks, water, and clean clothes.

The forest hums with life as the five of you walk the trail with the sun breaks through the cracks, lighting up the dirt path ahead, decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers, and fallen leaves that crunch beneath your feet.

You're gazing up at the canopy, searching for the birds that sing sweetly against the soft sound of the wind whistling between the leaves.

Chan leads the way and once in a while, he looks back to check if anyone needs a break. Seeing that everyone needs a break, he stops on his track and turns around.

"Let's have a quick break!" He announces to everyone, then uncaps a bottle of water to hand it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter.

You lean back against the tree and reorganize your breath to finally have a long sip of water that quench your thirst.

"Is it still far?" Jinnie asks, taking a new bottle of water from Han's backpack.

Chan swallows his water and wipes his lips after, "About half an hour more of hiking."

Han takes off the plaid shirt he's wearing and hangs it on one shoulder, "And how long have we been hiking?"

Chan looks at his smartwatch to be able to answer him, "About 25 minutes."

"Fuck!" Han curses, scaring away the small animals hiding between the bushes, "Why does it feel like we've been walking for hours?"

"That's just you," Jeongin sneers, drinking his water like he's shooting an advertisement video.

"It's going to be worth it, I swear," Chan convinces, brushing his hair to the back before putting his hat back on.

Hanging on to his words, everyone continues the hike, following Chan's lead while enjoying the greenery. Jeongin catches squirrels running in between tree trunks.

"Han, say hi to your friends!" He says to Han.

Funny that Han decides to play along with it, "Furry babies, hi!"

Chan notices that you're getting exhausted as beads of sweat roll down your neck, "Here! Hold the back of my t-shirt!"

You don't see why it would help you walk, "Why should I?" You ask in utter confusion.

He grabs your hands and makes you hold each side of his t-shirt, dragging you along with him as he tirelessly keeps following the trail.

"I swear to God if it isn't worth it like you said..." you grumble as you feel every muscle in your legs strained and screaming in pain, and your mouth is dry from you constantly panting, running out of breath.

The scenery slightly changes the further you walk, there are no more dead leaves on the path and the rich earthy smell is soon replaced by water-saturated air.

"Oi, look!" Chan taps your hand and then points at the view ahead of him.

Getting a glimpse of what lies ahead, you walk past Chan to discover a view that is too beautiful for your eyes to comprehend.

A white, frothy cascade of water falls into a plunge pool with mist billowing out in soft clouds, creating a mystical atmosphere but when the sun hits and refracts the lights, a rainbow appears.

It's a waterfall, a majestic one.

"Be careful! It's slippery!" Chan shouts, watching you walk down the rocky outcroppings. He knows that there's no stopping you and you can't hear him anyway.

Han dashes after you with the backpack bouncing on his back, trailing after you like a puppy.

"I was right to trust you," Jinnie stands by his side and places a hand on Chan's shoulder, "It's worth the one hour of hike."

Jinnie shoots him a warm smile that makes Chan's inside melt and turns into jelly and in response to that, Chan unknowingly grins at her, the kind that shows how much of a fool he is for her.

Unbeknownst to him, Jeongin has been quietly watching this interaction, including the shit-eating grin Chan has on his face.

"You're pathetic," Jeongin says to him once Jinnie leaves.

"Hey!" He yells in disagreement but Jeongin ignores him and walks away.

Taking a little rest from the hiking, Chan sits on the sun-baked rocks while admiring the waterfall and the serene surroundings.

"This is a beautiful place to tell someone your feelings," Jeongin says, taking out a can of soda from his backpack.

Chan scoffs and plays dumb, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on!" Jeongin groans and subtly rolls his eyes at him.

"We all know you have feelings for someone," he pauses to gesture at the figure standing on the rocky perch, "There she is!"

This proves two things, their years of friendship and that Jeongin always observes, either way, he feels so caught by his own ineptness.

Worse, Chan decides to keep playing dumb and looks away even though it's too late for him to do that, there's no way he can escape Jeongin's observant eyes.

"Why-why should I..." he scratches his head in a slight panic.

"Just tell her how you feel," Jeongin says, "I think she feels the same thing for you."

At first, Chan wants to keep it to himself but since Jeongin knows already and it's tiring to have to keep hiding, he decides to tell him.

"It's hard," he openly admits with a heavy sigh, "We've been close friends for too long that I can't tell the difference anymore."

It feels so good that Chan is finally able to get that out of this chest and he knows he can trust Jeongin to keep it between them.

"And she's just... she's just perfect," Chan says with a hopeless sigh, he picks up a pebble and throws it into the water, "and I don't want to lose my good friend."

Jeongin leans back by propping his hands behind him and lets out a sigh, "It doesn't matter if the guy is perfect or the girl is perfect, as long as they're perfect for each other," he eloquently remarks.

"Wait, I think I heard that somewhere before," Chan's forehead wrinkles as he rakes his brain to recall where he heard this line before.

All of a sudden, Jeongin punches him in the arm, "It's from your favorite movie. Good Will Hunting!"

"Oh?!" Chan loudly gasps, it feels like a crime that he doesn't recognize the quote taken from his favorite movie.

"At this point, Han will beat you up to it."

"What?"

"He'll date your sister faster than you get to date Jinnie," Jeongin says with sheer indignation.

Chan's eyes dart at you and Han talking under the shade of a tree that stoops so low it's almost touching the surface of the water.

"Ugh, no, that can't happen!" He says in disgust.

"I bet he's serenading your sister with the jingle he made, again," Jeongin mumbles.

At the same time, Jeongin and Chan look at each other and start singing the jingle together, surprising themselves by how well they memorized it.

"Are you guys talking about me?" Jinnie jokingly asks as she walks by.

They immediately shut up and Chan turns his head away even though his eyes are searching for her, demanding her to always be in his sight.

"Are we waiting for Christmas to swim or what?" Han shouts, fussing like a child with his hands planted on each side of his waist.

Han once thought that if someone ever gets to see your body, he believes they'd turn to stone and that's because he thinks no one can handle that much magnetism and sex appeal.

Today, he gets to put that notion to a test even though he's risking himself to the possibility of getting petrified. He tries to keep his cool as you stand not far from him, tugging the hem of your t-shirt and then pulling it over your head, revealing the top half of the swimsuit you're wearing underneath.

So far, he still finds himself breathing and able to move his limbs but let's see when— he holds his breath as you unbutton your denim shorts and pull it down, slightly bending down to get it off your legs.

His eyes immediately travel down your body, admiring every curve of your body as you bask in the warm sunlight and the tiny droplets of water land on your skin.

You flip your hair to the back and slip your fingers under the strap to adjust it on your shoulder, his breath hitches as you pull it and let it slap against your skin.

Now, he's petrified. He knows he shouldn't be ogling at his best friend's sister, especially with her brother around but he can't help it, he's instinctively attracted to you like a moth drawn to light.

Jinnie offers her hand at you as she's already in her swimsuit as well, "Come on!" She says.

You take her hand and giggle as you slowly make your way toward the water with pebbles against the bottom of your bare feet.

"Ack!" You shriek, feeling a shock of cold water touching your feet then back to giggling again.

Han realizes that if he doesn't want to miss anything, he should get changed now. He gets up from the bed of rock he's sitting on and finds Chan is already hallway to get naked, exposing his muscular upper body, his pale skin shines under the sun.

"Show off," he mutters, placing a gentle slap on his abs as he walks past him.

"What's that for?" Chan says with a perplexed look.

The breeze plays with Han's hair as he treads the water and more droplets of water hit his skin the closer he gets to where you are

For a second, he loses sight of you until you emerge from the surface of the water, glistening wet with your swimsuit stuck to your skin, enhancing the features of your heavenly body.

You're saying something to Jinnie as you're floating in the water but the words are lost in the roar of the waterfall. With a grin plastered on your face, he doesn't need to hear it to know you're having fun.

"Hey, come here," you shout in his direction.

Han looks around thinking you're talking to someone else but there's no one else but him there. He looks back at you and you're already making your way to him.

"I want to show you something cool," you say, taking his hand and dragging him with you.

Honestly, he's willing to go anywhere you take him even if you take him to the pit of hell and sweat he'll follow you there.

"Now, we have to dive in," you say, getting to the center of the pool where it's deep enough for a dive.

Han draws a big, deep breath before following you where you lead him, he sees through the blurry water where your figure is diving to and then comes out of the water.

You wipe the water off your face and put your hair away, "It's cool, isn't it?"

Han doesn't realize it at first but once he rubs the water off his eyes, he's standing on the other side of the waterfall, and behind him is a tall, slippery wall of rock.

It's just you and him, concealed behind an iridescent wall of water.

"Yeah," he nods as he looks at you to which you respond with a smile.

Out of nowhere, two figures emerge out of the water and startle you both. It's Jeongin and Jinnie, discovering the spot and finding you both there.

"Wow! This is amazing!" Jinnie gasps as she looks around while wiping the water off her mouth.

Jeongin doesn't say anything but stands close to the back, his skin a contrast with the dark of the rocky wall behind him.

The smile on Han's face slowly fades knowing that someone has shattered the tender moment he's having with you. He looks at you and your eyes are nowhere near his eyes, the next thing he knows, you dive your way out back to the world.

The fun continues as you and Chan team up to fight against Jinnie and Han. He's carrying you on his shoulders and clashing you at Jinnie who also rides on Han's shoulders, coming at each other until one of you falls into the water. Thanks to Chan's strong lower half body, you won most of the time.

Tired from swimming, everyone is chilling on the big bed of rock, drinking and eating the snacks they packed while drying up under the warm afternoon sun.

With your fingers pruning up, you're struggling to open a bag of chips and someone takes it to help you to open it.

"Here," Jeongin says, after swiftly opening it for you.

"Thanks," you mutter.

Jinnie let out a sigh as she hugs her knees, "I think this is the most fun I ever had in a long time."

Han gets up from lying down and puts his arm around her shoulder, "That's true."

Chan triumphantly grins as he uncaps a new bottle of water, "I told you guys to trust me."

"I trusted you," Jeongin mutters in defense.

Chan points at Han as he drinks his water, hinting that he's talking about a specific person. Grinning as he sees Han feeling called out by that.

"I didn't say anything," he defends himself, waving his hand in front of him in strong disagreement with Chan's accusation.

"Yeah but you were like whining the whole hike," Chan says, giving him a head shake of disbelief.

"I didn't," he resists to admit it, then looks at Jinnie to seek someone on his back, "I didn't, right?"

Jinnie looks at him and then looks at everyone, "Well, I wouldn't call it whining," she says.

Han glares at her as he senses a but trailing behind Jinnie's sentence. He puts his arm away from her and grumbles, "You know what? I'll not say anything on the hike way back."

On the hike way back, Han doesn't whine like he promised but he makes grunting noises. Chan knows he wants to complain but he wants to stick true to his own words.

He guides the hike back with you by his side and he's been catching you looking back a few times. He scoffs, knowing his sister so well to know that you're not just looking, you have eyes on someone.

"Who is it, baby sist?" He curiously asks.

You snap your head back and look ahead, "Huh? What?" You play coy.

With his hand on your shoulder, he stops you on your track and looks into your eyes, "I'm your brother. I know when my sister likes someone," he states.

You sigh because that's true, you can't hide the things from someone you've grown up your whole life with.

"Yeah, okay, you got me," you say in defeat.

"I didn't think much about it then but now, he's always in my head," you share, surprised that you don't find it awkward to tell personal things like this with him. Deep down you know it's not awkwardness you feel, you fear that Chan wouldn't be accepting of your choice.

"So, what do you think?"

Chan softly laughs and offers his hand at you as support to climb the outgrown tree roots, he waits until you safely land on the other side to answer.

"Well, I don't really have a say on that, do I?" he says.

"As far as I remember, you're really against it," you say, reminding him of the same ultimatum he says to his friends plenty of times.

"Yeah, but you know, as long as you're happy," he answers, along with a coy shrug.

Out of the blue, he playfully nudges your shoulder with his, "Ooo, baby sist is falling in love," he teasingly says.

You shove him hard until he's staggering to the side, "Stop calling me that!" You slap his big arm with each word.

Chan is as protective as a brother can be but he knows that he can't dictate every aspect of your life, including the person you like. However, as your brother, his opinions matter and it feels good to know that you have his approval.

The sun is setting when everyone returns to the campsite, painting the sky with bursts of red and yellow, gradually sending the day into the calm of night.

Before it gets dark, Chan orders everyone to work for dinner, he and Jeongin immediately build a campfire and the rest are setting the gas stove to cook.

"Can I help you with something?" Han offers his help to you and Jinnie who's busy prepping ingredients for dinner.

Jinnie hands him a pot, "Can you fill it with water?"

"How much water?"

"Just fill it full," she answers.

"Got it!" He takes the pot with him and comes back a few minutes later, carrying the pot of water with a lot of focus and cautiousness.

"Where do I put it?" He asks in a panic.

Jinnie gets out of the way to make space for him, "Here! On the stove!" She says.

He is concentrating hard on putting it right on the stove without spilling a drop, "How do you turn it on?"

You look away from the vegetables you're chopping and notice something on Han's leg, it seems like he scraped his knee without him knowing.

"Goodness, Han!" You gasp.

"Wh-what?" He asks in panic, looking at you in worry when he should be worried about himself.

"Your knee is bleeding," you point at the blood gushing out of his scraped knee. You scramble to find something for his wound.

Jinnie gets ahead of you, she comes with a bottle of water to wash the blood and tells him to sit down as she runs to the tent to get a first aid kit.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, finally find a napkin for it.

Han is surprisingly calm about it as he gently places the napkin over his wound, "I think I hurt my knee when I was getting water."

Chan pauses on grilling the meat to know what the ruckus is about, "What's going on?"

"Hannie scraped his knee," you shortly answer.

Jinne comes through with her bag of first-aid kit and pulls out a tube of ointment, she takes a dollop with a cotton bud and with so much gentleness, she dabs Han's wound with it.

Han hisses and winces in pain, reacting to the treatment and Jinnie quickly blows on it to soothe the pain.

"I just need to put a band-aid on it," she says and proceeds to take one from the pack. She puts a lot of care into covering his wound with it then sighs in relief.

"Thank you, Jinnie," Han sincerely says while holding the side of his knee.

Jinnie looks up as she's kneeling in front of him and warmly smiles, "You're very welcome, Han."

Despite the minor incident, dinner was a success as everyone finished the food in under an hour, and there was no better way to end a tiring yet fulfilling day than with cans of cold beer.

The night brings such a silence that the crackle of the campfire is all that could be heard with the sparks flickering and drifting upward. The smell of smoke mixed with the sweet smell of roasted marshmallows.

Being the good brother he is, Chan hands you the smores he made and takes the stick of marshmallow you're still roasting.

"Thanks," you mutter, wasting no time to bite into that gooey, crunchy sweetness.

Han wants to do the same for you, he makes smores out of the marshmallow he roasted a little too long and nudges Jeongin by the elbow.

"Pass it to her," he whispers, asking for his help to deliver it to you.

Jeongin doesn't say anything but takes it from him and without hesitation, he bites right into it.

"Hey, I made it for her!" He scolds him, putting his hands around Jeongin's neck to choke and force him to spit the smores he ate. That doesn't faze him, Jeongin has another bite to finish it and has no problem swallowing it down.

Thinking that Han is mad because Jeongin ate his smores, Jinnie gives the one she made to him as a consolation, "Here. You can have mine."

Han looks at it and feels bad to take it, "I– It's okay, I'm full anyway," he lies with a grin.

The night is a special kind of blackness, the kind that wants only to hold the stars and help them shine all the brighter. You tilt your head up and see those stars like pinpricks against the dark of night.

"Woah, look at those stars..." You sigh in wonder.

Everyone else follows suit, looking up at the night sky and feeling the same feeling of awe. When we realize how vast the universe is, our matters suddenly feel so small, don't you think?

"I have something to share with you guys," Jeongin suddenly announces.

Everyone stops staring at the night sky and looking at Jeongin, some are merely curious and the rest are anticipating what he tries to share.

"Remember when I told you guys I auditioned to join the Royal Orchestra?"

"Yeah, a couple of times," Chan says, bobbing his head at him.

"Last month I got the letter," he shares further.

"Oh!" Jinnie gasps in excitement even though Jeongin is not finished with the announcement yet.

Jeongin looks down at the blazing fire that gnaws on the logs of wood, making everyone wait for him to continue. After a while, he looks up and finally announces, "Well, I got in."

"Oh, my Gosh..." Chan sighs in relief with one hand clutching his chest.

"Yeah, man!" Han gives him a celebratory punch in the arm then puts his arm around him, "I just knew you'd get in."

"Duh!" Jinnie eggs in, "You're a great pianist, they're stupid if they didn't let you in."

"Congratulations, Jeongin! We're so proud of you," Chan says, giving him a pat on the back and a proud smile that exudes his paternal side towards Jeongin.

Jeongin looks at you and his eyes drop to his hands, "Which also means that I'll leave soon," he continues with shocking news.

The smiles on everyone's faces slowly fade at that announcement, it turns quiet again as everyone processes that there's a downside to this happy news. Jinnie looks devastated and she rests her head on Chan's shoulder to seek comfort.

"When do you have to leave?" Han asks.

"Next month," Jeongin replies.

"So... this will be the last time we're going to be together?" Jinnie sadly asks even though she's on the verge of tears already.

"Guys, I'm not dying," Jeongin says with an attitude.

Everyone lightly chuckles at that, Chan rearranges the logs to keep the bonfire alive and looks at Jeongin.

"How long will you be there?"

"It's a two-year contract," he answers.

Jinnie sniffles and puts on a small smile, "Just promise us that you'll always come to our weekly video meeting," she demands.

Jeongin chuckles and nods, crossing his fingers together as he says, "Promise!"

"Two years isn't that long," Han coyly says, poking the burned log with a tree branch.

"By the time I get back, I expect one of you to already be married to someone," Jeongin jokingly says, secretly throwing a glance at Chan and raising his eyebrow at him.

"I'm getting drowsy," you say, stretching your arms up and tilting your head side to side, "I'm going to head in and sleep."

Jinnie lifts her head off of Chan's shoulder and crosses her arms together in front of her, "Yeah, I'm going to sleep as well," she says.

It's getting late and the night only grows colder, Chan decides that it's time to sleep. He volunteers to put out the bonfire while Jeongin heads straight into the tent.

After taking a quick trip to the bathroom, Han enters the tent and sees that the sleeping bags have been arranged. Jinnie takes the farthest right and you're sleeping next to her, bundled in the warmth of your sleeping bag.

The middle one belongs to Chan and since Jeongin takes the farthest left which means he's going to be sleeping between them. He slips himself into his sleeping bag and turns his head only to find that you're still awake.

"I thought you're sleeping already," he lowly mutters.

You don't say anything but smile at him with your eyes soft and tender, blanketing his heart with warm feelings.

When it occurs to him that he's sleeping in this shared space with you, he gets that fluttering feeling inside, a kaleidoscope of butterflies flying around in his stomach.

"Goodnight, Han," you lowly murmur.

"Goodnight," he murmurs back, not taking his eyes off of you until you turn your head to the other side.

Han continues to admire your profile from the side, your eyes, your nose, and the plump of your lips that he's dying to taste. You're so beautiful and he gets to enjoy that beauty as much as he pleases.

"I'm surprised I didn't find you snoring already," Chan says as he enters the tent and zips it close.

Then there's the brother who always ruins this special moment. Han turns his head away and scoots slightly to the side to make more space for Chan, knowing how big he is.

"Let's see who gets to snore first," Han dares him.

The next thing he knows, Han finds himself in the forest again and he can hear you laughing. He looks up and finds you standing next to him with your hair wet and your feet bare.

"Take you somewhere..." you vaguely say.

Han doesn't answer but takes your hand, together you're walking through the forest. He feels the rough stone handholds against the palms and fingertips and tall lush grass sliding across calves.

Then he looks at you and you're smiling at him, your eyes bright and droplets of water are dripping down the end of your hair.

"It's cool," you say, laughing at him.

He thinks you find something funny about him so he starts to grope his body around and checks what is it that makes you laugh.

"Come here," you say, giggling with your hand still holding his.

"What?" He asks.

"It's cool," you say again, then you take the straps of your swimsuit and pull them down your shoulders. You're giggling while keep pulling the straps down, revealing your bare chest to him little by little until—

"Han, wake up!"

The image blurs as someone shakes his body awake. He ignores it and tries to go back to sleep, hoping that he gets to continue the dream.

"Wake up!"

"Ugh... mmh," he incoherently complains and curls up in his sleeping bag.

"Just let him sleep," you say to someone.

Han's eyes snap open the second he hears your voice, he then scrambles out of his sleeping bag, disoriented with his hair tousled.

"Are you coming?"

Without looking, Han can tell that it's Chan's voice.

"I'm coming, yes, coming," he mumbles with half-shut eyes.

He shivers as cold air blows into the tent, he gropes around for his jacket with eyes barely open, "What time is it?"

"It's four," Chan answers.

"In the afternoon?" He gasps in shock, can't believe that he slept through the day.

"In the morning," Chan corrects him.

It's even more shocking that he wakes up at four in the morning when the sun is not even out yet. He opens his mouth to complain but he sees you coming into the tent.

"Chris, can I borrow one of your hoodies?" You ask.

Han grabs what he assumes is his hoodie and hurriedly gives it to you, "You can wear mine," he offers with a sleepy smile.

Chan takes it from his hand and then gives it to you, "Hurry up! It's sunrise in any minute now," he rushes him.

Han is barely functioning but he tries to keep up with the group, walking through the path in the dark of the night that still lingers and the stars that insist on shining bright against the bruised sky.

He rushes to walk next to you while hugging himself to shield himself from the cold, "Where are we going?"

"Just to the top of that hill," you answer, looking beautiful even with your face bare and your eyes puffy from the lack of sleep.

It gets tricky as the path turns into climbing the rocky outcroppings and it's a bit embarrassing that you're the one helping him not the other way around.

"There she is," Chan says, pointing to the golden disk that rises on the horizon with its honeyed glow.

It is the time when the day casts away the cloak of night and makes an entrance with a bright, gold light of warmth, making it known that she rules the day once and forever more.

Jinnie walks up to Chan's side and stands so close to him, arms brushing and elbows grazing.

"It's like you have to whisper," Jinnie murmurs, thinking that she would disrupt the serene view by talking loudly.

When Chan looks at her, he realizes one thing. Jinnie is like the sunrise, she doesn’t care if anyone watches it or not, she will keep on being beautiful, even if no one bothers to look at it.

"You know what, Chris?" She suddenly asks.

"Yes?"

"This is one of those moments that I'll share with my future husband and children," she says, her eyes set on the sun that keeps on rising, gently and swiftly at once.

Hearing her talking about the future makes Chan wants to make it all true for her and have the chance to tell her future children, 'Yes, Dad was there too'. Just the thought of it already makes him so giddy that he finds himself smiling.

Jinnie slowly rests her head on his shoulder to enjoy the sunrise together and Chan gets what she said earlier, he also feels like saying things out loud would only ruin the moment so he decides to keep it in his heart a little longer.

"Ugh! He's stressing me out," You mutter to yourself, seeing Jinnie and Chan sharing an intimate moment and instead of using this as an opportunity to say something, Chan does nothing but stare at her like usual.

"That's my hoodie," Someone says.

You turn to the side and find Jeongin there, "Sorry?"

"You're wearing my hoodie," he says, pointing to the hoodie you're wearing which you thought belonged to Han.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," you meekly say, torn between keeping it on or not, but you know you need it, it's so cold to take it off.

"That's okay," Jeongin says, leaning on the rock next to you.

It's hard to interact with Jeongin because he rarely talks, he only talks when he has important things to say or has savage takes on things. You hesitate to talk to him without feeling like you'll waste his time. Still... you muster up the courage only to get interrupted by Han's head lolling onto your shoulder.

You check on him and see that he's falling back to sleep. You quickly put your arm around him to keep the back of his head from hitting the rock.

"We should have let him sleep," Jeongin says.

"Yeah," you respond with a soft laugh.

Now that he's speaking to you, you use this as an opportunity to congratulate him, "I didn't get the chance last night but congratulations for joining the Royal orchestra," you tell him.

Jeongin brushes his hair to the back and then clears his throat, "Thank you."

"I went to one of your shows two months back," you share and instantly regret doing it, what are you expecting though? For him to thank you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jeongin asks, he seems to find it important to know the reason.

"Well, I just... I don't know, I don't want to disturb you and I was with a friend anyway so..." you vaguely explain.

There's no other reason why you came to his show except to watch him playing his piano, you thought of seeing him after the show but you were afraid that he'd be too busy for that.

"We could have hung out. I'd treat you to dinner," he says while scratching his ear.

"That sounds nice," you comment with a smile.

"I'm not a cheapskate like Han," he jokingly adds with a soft laugh.

"Well, I was think— Oh!" You abruptly stop talking as Han nuzzles his head further into your neck and puts his arm across your chest.

Jeongin gets on his feet and makes you switch places with him. He takes Han's arm from around your shoulder, offering himself for him to lean on instead of you.

"Is Han sleeping?" Chan asks, noticing his friend is draping on Jeongin's shoulder.

"I told you to let him sleep," you grumble at him.

The walk back isn't as bad as the climb, Han is being dragged by Chan to make sure of his safe return to the campsite. Jeongin is tasked to brew coffee for everyone while Jinnie and Chan are making breakfast together. You volunteer to tidy up the tent and fold the sleeping bags.

Once you're done, you join everyone around the campfire and Jeongin immediately hands you a cup of coffee.

"Thank you," you mutter, holding it with both hands to absorb the heat.

Chan mischievously slaps Han's shoulder, startling him awake from his sleep and making him jolt on the chair.

"Time for breakfast!" He informs him.

He looks at him with wondering eyes, stretches his arms out, and then lets out a big yawn. Even with a barely functioning brain, Han knows that it's time to eat, he takes a plate and a piece of toast.

"Here. Have an egg," Jinnie says, sliding an egg onto his plate from the frypan.

She then turns at you and says, "You too."

You hurriedly grab a plate and mutter your gratitude at her, wasting no time to start digging in. Soon, everyone is stuffing their mouth with food and it gets quiet that you can hear the forest come alive around you.

"We're going to drive the whole day today," Chan informs out of nowhere.

"Can we know where we're going now?" Jinnie asks, taking a bite of her bread.

Chan pulls out something out of his jeans pocket, a piece of paper but he continues to unfold it open. With an excited grin, he turns it around and reveals a poster.

"How long have you been keeping that poster in the back of your jeans?" Jeongin curiously asks, then takes a small sip of his coffee.

Not getting the reaction he expected, Chan frowns and his shoulders slumped. Han snatches the poster from his hands and looks at it with utter bewilderment.

"What? Did you get tickets to this? How?" He asks with his cheeks full of food.

You don't recognize it at first until you see the logo of the band and gasp in surprise, "Am I seeing The Hare concert poster?"

The grin blooms on Chan's face once more, "More like the poster for their secret gig this Friday night," he humbly brags.

"What?" You ask again with eyes widening.

Han roughly yanks the sleeve of Chan's sweater, "How did you get the tickets?"

"Let's say I knew someone who knows someone," Chan cryptically says, deciding not to tell everyone how he acquired those tickets.

"Anyway, I think it's better if the girls take turns to drive first," he continues with the planning.

"Yep. It's best if you boys get some rest before driving all night," Jinnie agrees, already collecting the trash from around the table.

You're representing everyone when you say that Jinnie and Chan make a great team, they're the ones who came up with the planning and handled the financial stuff, and they make sure everyone is doing well and having fun. They're basically playing parents to you, Han, and Jeongin which adds one more reason why they should date as soon as possible.

Jinnie offers to take the first turn to drive and Chan is the last one to get into the car as he has to return the rented tent and pay for it.

"Everyone please make sure you've checked your belongings," Chan says as he puts his safety belt on.

Jinnie turns on the car engine and checks everything, her safety belt, and the angle of the rearview mirror, and then adjusts the seat.

"Do you mind if I play music from my phone?" You ask.

"Not at all," Jinnie replies, tucking her hair behind her ear as she backs the car from the parking lot and starts driving.

Not long after the car driving through the main road, Han startles in the backseat and then asks, "How long have we been driving?"

Chan glances at his smartwatch and turns his head to the back, "About 35 minutes. Why?"

"I want to pee," Han says, his face doesn't show any expression but it makes his face appear so round.

"Can you hold it?" Chan asks.

Han considers it for a moment then slowly leans back on his seat, "Yeah, I'll– I'll hold it," he doubtfully says.

"Distract yourself, you know, think of something so you don't want to pee anymore," Chan suggests.

"Think of the waterfall we went to yesterday," Jeongin playfully adds with a suppressed laugh.

"Hey!" Chan slaps Jeongin's arm, saying the opposite of what he suggested.

"I'll try to sleep," Han finds a better solution to detain his urge to pee.

"That's a great idea!" Chan says.

It's a good thing that Han is one of those people who can sleep anytime anywhere. He manages to sleep through two hours long of drive until the urge comes back.

"Guys, I don't think I can hold it anymore," he mutters, biting his lower lip until it turns pale.

Jinnie looks at him through the rearview mirror and sees how he can't hold the urge anymore, "The sign says rest area is only 10 kilometers away," she informs.

Han grips the headrest of Jeongin's headrest, "Okay."

"Are we good?" Jinnie asks.

"Yeah," he meekly answers.

"Just a few more minutes," you convince him.

There's nothing you can do to help him but you can relate to that feeling, you look back to check on him once in a while.

"Jinnie?" He calls again.

"Yeah?"

"Please step on the gas!" Han says, looking a little pale now.

Considering the urgency of the situation, Jinnie allows herself to go above the speed limit, she steps on the gas and the car picks up the speed, launching the car forward.

Sensing the change in speed, Chan wakes up from his nap and looks around in confusion. But the first thing he does when he gains his sense is check on Jinnie.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Han needs to pee," you answer for her since she focuses on driving.

"Almost there!" Jinnie says as she changes the lane to enter the rest area.

Han hops out of the car once the car gets to the parking lot of the rest area and immediately runs to search for the bathroom.

Once the car is parked, Jinnie lets out a sigh and leans back on her seat, "That was the most intense ten minutes I ever had in my life," Jinnie says.

Seeing the hilarity of it all, the three of you burst into laughter almost at the same time, making it one of those memorable little things that happened on this road trip.

The laughter wakes Jeongin up from his nap and he looks confused as to why everyone is laughing, "What's happening?"

No one is answering him but keep laughing until we're running out of air. Oh, there's nothing like the deep breaths after laughing that hard.

Since they're stopping at a rest area and it's close to lunchtime, they may as well take a break from driving to ear. Everyone scatters the second they step into the food court to order the food they want. You decide on a bowl of ramen and get in the queue with Jinnie behind you.

Even though he's already carrying a tray of food in his hands, Chan stops next to the queue and scans the menu.

"Hey, baby sist!" He loudly calls you.

The people in the queue turn their heads to see who he calls baby sist, you hurriedly turn your back to them and glare at Chan.

"Please don't address me with that name in public," You scold him through your gritted teeth.

"Order a portion of fried dumplings for me," he says, ignoring your complaint and leaving with a grin.

Everyone gathers at one of the long tables in the middle of the food court with their choices of lunch, you slide the plate of fried dumplings at Chan and steal one piece with your chopsticks.

"You better not drink a lot of sodas if you have a weak bladder," Jeongin and his savage intake make an appearance.

Han pretends not to hear him and continues to stuff his cheek with more food.

The lunch is not enough, so everyone scatter once more to buy snacks. You're getting a bag of mini fish-shaped cakes for desserts and Han appears behind you with a big smile on his face.

"Got you ice cream," he says.

"How nice of you!" You delightfully exclaim.

"I don't know what you like so I chose three flavors at once," he explains the different flavors of ice cream in one cone.

"Thank you," you mutter your gratitude with a smile.

"I have to go for another bathroom break," he says with a grin lingering on his face, then leaves the other way.

The ice cream would make a great dessert if it didn't have strawberry ice cream in the mix. It's obvious that Han completely forgot that you're allergic to it, you can't eat it, or throw it away. You can give it to Chan but Han would know that you're not eating the ice cream he specifically bought for you and he would find that disrespectful, or worse, upset him.

Making your way out of the food court, you carry the bag of snacks in one hand and the ice cream in the other, still have no idea what to do with it.

Out of nowhere, Jeongin comes from the side, also carrying an ice cream in hand. He takes the one from your hand and switches it with him, a chocolate-flavored one.

"You can have mine," he says, not waiting to bite right into the ice cream.

Not only that he remember your allergy, but he also comes with a new ice cream and you find that endearing. You let out a mix of scoff and laugh, "I've never seen someone bite into ice cream."

"Well, there's always a first time to everything," he coyly says.

It's your turn to drive now and thankfully, you have set up an hour-long playlist for it. Jinnie remains in the front, sitting on the passenger's side and putting her legs up as she draws on her sketchbook.

The boys don't find it hard to fall back to sleep after a hearty lunch, you lower the volume of the music and only hum along to the song currently playing in the car to not wake the sleeping beauties in the back.

"What do you think?" Jinnie asks, holding her sketchbook out to you.

You keep the steering wheel steady to glance at the rough drawing of you from her point of view, then look back straight ahead.

"Wow. That's good!" You compliment.

Jinnie is a great illustrator, she mostly does illustrations for children's books and magazines which explains her exceptional talent for drawing.

"Please tell me you'll finish it and then email it to me," you say, already planning on making it your profile picture for your social media.

"I'll finish it when I'm not in a moving vehicle," she says, putting her pencil back into its case and putting it on the dashboard along with the sketchbook.

"I think it's cute," Jinnie says while stretching her arms to the front.

"What cute?" You ask with a perplexed smile.

"The way Chris calls you baby sist," she answers.

Oh, she must be talking about that little incident that happened back at the food court. You nod and tap your steering wheel to the rhythm of the song playing.

"Look, I don't mind when call me that in front of you guys. Just don't do it in front of a bunch of strangers," you explain, briefly shifting your focus to driving by a big truck.

"I mean... what if there are cute guys there and they heard it," you playfully remark.

Jinnie softly chuckles and grabs a bottle of water from the cup holder, "You're beautiful and smart, you shouldn't have any problems getting a cute guy," she says.

"That I agree!" You jokingly say with a sassy eyebrow raise.

When it occurs to you that this would be the perfect opportunity to have another crack at her, you arrange the words in your head before saying them out loud.

"I can say the same thing about you, Jinnie. You're beautiful and smart, except you have a lot of patience in you," you pause for a chuckle and briefly glance at her, "you shouldn't have any problems getting a hot guy."

Jinnie gets quiet and you begin to think that your words offended her in a way yet you give it another moment for her to digest your words thoroughly. She suddenly looks back, probably making sure that none of the boys are listening in on this conversation.

"I'm just a girl," Jinnie meekly says, lowering her voice as she slightly slumps in her seat, "All I can do is wait for the other person to profess their feelings to me."

Oh, finally! You manage to successfully crack her this time. You keep your cool and continue to crack deeper into it.

"I have to stop you right there!" You tell her with your hand raised, making a stop sign at her.

"You're not just a girl, you're incredible!" You may have exaggerated your tone a little bit but she needs to hear the truth in your words.

"You're not just beautiful and smart, you're kind, compassionate and you're strong and gentle at the same time. And if I'm being honest, I look up to you a lot," you openly admit.

"Aww..." Jinnie coos, she seems to be taking your compliments well along with a shy smile.

"And a girl like you shouldn't wait. A girl like you take matters into your own hands and you know, tell him how you feel," you encourage her.

Yeah, okay, maybe there's an underlying motive here but that doesn't make what you said to her a lie.

"It's a different thing when the person you like is your friend and you've been close with that person for so long," Jinnie sighs, her voice drops lower and she seems smaller than ever.

However, the mystery is now solved. Jinnie is indeed having the same feeling, she's hesitant only because they've been friends for too long. You get it that sometimes it's a bit scary to date someone who knows so much about you but if you focus on the good side, it means that they'll be more accepting and understanding towards your qualities.

If there are two people who truly deserve each other, it's Chan and Jinnie.

"Isn't that a good thing? You've known each other long enough to learn so much about each other and understand each other better," you give her your opinion and secretly glance to see her reaction.

Jinnie plays with the lint on her jeans as she digests your words while looking at the ever-changing scenery as the car keeps moving forward.

"You're right," she finally responds to your words.

Now, that you've tried your best to give her that little push, you can only hope for the outcome and hopefully, it'll be the best one.

"I know I'm right," you confidently remark, then burst into laughter.

Unbeknownst to you and Jinnie, Chan has been listening all along and behind his dark hoodie, he's smiling from ear to ear.

After stopping for dinner, the trip continues with Chan behind the wheel and Jeongin on his side. Jinnie takes the middle seat with Han and you occupy the backseat, using the extra space to curl up and sleep.

It's a bummer that you're not sitting next to him but this way, Han can easily look to the back and see you peacefully sleeping with a hand under your head, lost in your sweet dream.

"Hey, Han, can you get me a can of soda?" Chan asks without looking at him.

Since he's too busy watching you sleep, Han doesn't hear it the first time and snaps his head to the front, "What?"

"Get me a soda," Chan repeats while holding his arm out to the back so Han can hand it right into his hand.

Han rummages inside the small cooler box next to his feet, grabbing the first can that rolls into his hand and putting it into Chan's hand.

"Thanks!" Chan shortly says to him.

The road is eerily empty as it turns smaller from four into two lanes and the last sliver of sun has fully disappeared, replaced by the soft moonlight on a hot summer night.

Having nothing to do, Jeongin looks into the GPS to assess the route and the final destination.

"It says we'll arrive at 7 in the morning," he says.

"Yep, there's no hurry. We have plenty of time until the gig," Chan calmly says, still holding the soda in his hand, unopened.

Jeongin reclines on his seat and crosses his arms together on his chest, "And what we're going to do until then?"

"I booked us rooms at a hotel nearby," Chan informs, "we'll have some rest before leave in the afternoon."

"Hotel, right? Not motel?" Jeongin asks with suspicious eyes because the last time they stayed at the motel, he had to share the bed with Han.

"Yes," Chan hastily answers.

"I'm going to get my own room," Jeongin says.

"I thought you like sharing the bed with me," Han jokingly says.

"That's the least of my worries," Jeongin says, then gives each of them a glare.

Han pops his head in the middle of them, "Then what's the problem?"

Jeongin gives each of them a glare, "It's you guys snoring. It's like a whole orchestra in there but all the instruments are tuba," he says with a shiver.

Han grabs the front of Jeongin's shirt in response, "My snore sounded nothing like tuba!"

"How do you know what your snores sound like?" Jeongin asks, giving him the side eyes.

"Last time I checked it's Beethoven's Symphony No. 9," Han answers without a beat.

Jeongin leans at him and gives him a perplexed look, "What?"

"What?" Han asks back with daring eyes.

"Beethoven's Symphony No. 9," Chan says, finding himself giggling to it and his giggles gradually turn into laughter that fills the small, enclosed space.

Chan slows down the speed and holds the steering wheel steady with his forearms to open his can of soda. The second it pops open, the carbonated drink fizzles and spills out of the can.

"Oh, no, man..." he groans in complaint, seeing the soda get all over the steering wheel and dripping onto his lap.

"You made a mess, Chris," Jeongin grumbles, pulling multiple tissues out of the box and then handing some to him. He helps to wipe the droplets that somehow land on the console.

With one hand steadily holding the steering wheel, Chan keeps on dabbing the wet patch on the jeans with a ball of tissues.

"Ugh, it's sticky," Chan groans in disgust and then looks down at his lap to see if he misses anything.

The moment Chan's eyes are off the road, the headlights shine on an object that comes into sight, and Jeongin, as the only one aware of the deer standing in the middle of the road, reflexively grabs the steering wheel and turns it hard to the right.

Losing control of the car, no one can do anything to stop it. The tires are screeching against the asphalt as the car spins around, and eventually stops as it hits something with a loud banging sound, but no one is moving.

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sparklingblu · 2 months ago

Text

Pulse

Sohyun X Xinyu

P.S: I'm trying a new style of writing here.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

There's something calm and comforting about the crowded coffeeshop. The hissing of the espresso machine, the bustle of human conversation, the clinking of ceramic cups - they all seem to blend together to create a new yet totally familiar world. That's the reason I've come here. To be swallowed by this background noise and extract myself from reality if just for a moment.

I sit in my usual corner, my elbow against a cup of cappucino which has long since gone cold and a textbook opened but largely ignored. I have read the same line for the last thirty minutes but none of it seems to stick. I'm too distracted by the noise and my own thoughts, adrift in this place.

University is supposed to be a place where you "find yourself" but I seem to have lost my sense of direction as soon as I step my foot here. Everyone around me seems so sure of what they are doing, raised chests and energetic steps. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to keep my head down, pretending like I belong while I don't even know who I am yet.

Outside, the leaves are just starting to turn yellow - the afternoon light casting a lazy red glow on them. It's the start of a new season though I barely feel like anything have changed in this new life I'm settling into. It's just a struggle to fit in from day to day.

I bring my lips to the rim of my cofee cup, grmiacing as the bitter taste washes over me. It doesn't come as a surprise. The only reason people come here is for the atmosphere - to mingle and jingle . The cofee is just a necessity to stay.

I glance at the moving world from my seat near the window. A steady flow of students rush past the platfrom on the otherside, their laughter echoing through the glass. It's as if they know a secret I have yet to understand.

I pull the sleeve of my sweater over my knuckles, retreating into the soft fabric. Nearby, my phone buzzes with a notification from a group chat that I never have been a part of. I don't bother to check and it becomes one of the many sounds that fills the place.

I used to think university would be different - a total contrast to my mundane high school life. That I'd step into the place and everything will click into place. Like the rest of my life have been a prelude to this. But here I am. Already chickening out in the first week.

I chug down the remainder of my cold coffee, shove my books into the bag and was about to leave when a burst of cool air sweeps through the place, followed by the jingle of the bell above the door. And I happen to be one of those people who instictively gawk at the newcomer.

There she is, waltzing into the room like she owns it. The energy of the outside world seems to radiate from her body. There's nothing loud or brash about her but she draws attention anyway - an easy confidence that ripples through the place. She brushes a stray strand of hair our of her face, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

She stands out naturally,moving as if she's utterly home in her skin, in this place. It's the kind of self-insurance that seems totally foregin to me. I can't even imagine what it's like to be in her shoes. Not like I will have a chance. She's everything I'm not.

Her hair is slightly tousel, falling in loose waves that looks almost intentional. She's wearing a plain white shirt, its crispiness a total contrast to her slouch jeans.

She orders a cofee - espresso, no sugar- and while she waits, she cracks a joke at the waiteress, painting her cheeks red. All this time, my eyes linger on her with a strange sort of fascination, watching like she's the only form of enteratinment I have had in a long time. And it's true in a way.

She takes the plastic cup and the change from the waiteress with a smile. She turns and that's when the trouble starts. I have expected her to leave as swiftly as she has come. Someone like her probably have more important businesses than slothing around.

Her eyes dart around the café and it takes me a moment to realize she's looking for a seat. So she's staying. But luck doesn't seem to be on her side today beacaue every single seat has been occupied. Well, except..

"Hey" she says, and it's casual, like we have been friends forever. "Mind if I sit there?"

She's gesturing at the seat across from mine, which I have strategically left empty to create a distance between me and everything else. I hesistate a tad bit too long before I response.

"Sure" I mumble, nodding towards the chair.

She sits, sliding the cup of coffee on the table with a soft thud. I have expected her to pull out a phone or do anything a stranger sharing a table with another stranger would do. But instead, she leans back and scans the room before her eyes come to rest on me.

"I have seen you before" she speaks, offering a slight smile as if she can read my thoughts.

I blink, caught off-guard. No 'hello' s. No 'hi' s. Straight to the point.

"Have you?" I say, sounding awfully stiff.

"Yeah. You have been in the same corner for the last week. You come here a lot?" She sips her coffee, eyes still on me.

I shrug. "Not always. But yeah. It's quiet"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing around the packed café. "Quiet?" she repeats, half laughing. "Compared to the dining hall, perhaps"

Just then, I realize how rudiculous I must sound. "Well, not today" I admit, lowering my gaze back to the books. "But usually"

She laughs again, but not mockingly so. "I get where you are coming from. Sometimes, it's good to be alone even though you are not truly alone" She couldn't have worded it better.

"Exactly" I say, nodding slowly.

A brief silent passes between us. She sips from her cup again. If the cappucino here is strong, I can't imagine what espresso would taste like. But she shows no sign of distaste.

"So, what do you study?" she asks, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

"Literature" I answer, shifting in my seat. For some reason, talking about my major always make me feel like I'm giving something away. Like I'm exposing myself.

"Ahhh Literature" She repeats the word, as if she's trying to decipher its meaning. "That must be....intense. Lots of complicated story about lots of different stuffs"

I nod, still unsure where she's headed. "I guess so. It's more about trying to understand them through their words. Deep fry your brain sometimes"

She huffs. "I can imagine. That's why I try to understand them through their heads, it's less exhausting that way. I'm in psych"

That makes sense. She has this way of speaking, as if she knows what the other party will say before they even open their mouths. But at the same time, respecting their boundaries.

I'm still trying to think of a valid response when she lifts her cup and stare at the remaining coffee like she's studying it. Then her gaze lifts back to me, eyes bright.

"You know, espresso reminds me of people"

I blink, surprised at the strange comparison. "Espresso? Why?"

She beams, leaning in. "Espresso's small right? Concentrated. If you take a sip, there's this rush - sharp and intense. It hits you so intensely that if you are not prepared, it can be overwhelming"

She takes a sip, as if giving me time to register her words. "But if you take it in bit by bit, the taste changes. The bitterness mellows out and you can feel each layer of richness underneath"

I stare at her, my tired brain struggling to understand what she's implying. Why espresso, out of all things?

She leans back and continues. "People are like that. Emotions, life, they come at you in the most unexpected times - swift, chaotic. Sometimes it can be too much to handle. But if you give it some times, let it breathe, you start to see the little parts that makes it up. That's when you start to discover yourself"

I can't help but smile. "You have thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just obsessed with espresso"

"Not the one here, I hope"

She smiles, instantly getting what I'm implying. It seems she's a regular customer too. "You gotta work with what you have. But you get the point"

"So....people are like espresso? Is that why you study them?" I question as she finishes up the last few drops of her coffee. This girl really likes espresso.

"Exactly" she snaps. I'm not sure if she's joking here. "It has always been my dream to do a thesis on espresso and emotions"

"Are you....?" I drift off and she bursts into laughter.

I feel the slightest hint of joy, like by asking that stupid question, I have contributed to her amusement in some way.

"Serious? No way. I'm not risking my degree for my unhealthy addiction. The last person I explained this to leave the table as soon as I'm done"

"Well, I'm still here"

Does it sound too cheesy?

"I can see that" She glances at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly. "I should get going. I have a class to prepared for"

I nod, feeling that familiar twist that comes with endings. "Right. Of course"

She stands, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "It was nice talking to you" she says, her voice warm. "You can call me Sohyun"

"Xinyu" I reply. It sounds so much easier to say my name now.

"Xinyu" She lets the word roll off her tongue. "I like it"

"Thanks" She's already walking to the door when I response.

With one last glance, she re-enters the reality outside of this comforting bubble. I feel a strange sense of anticipation, like the conversation I just had have dropped some hint to solve this puzzle called life.

Sohyun and Espresso and People.

How peculiar.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The walk back across the campus was pleasant. The scene that welcomes me when I enter my room is not.

As I enter, I'm greeted by the familiar chaos of Yooyeon's world - clothes draped over the chair, a half eaten bag of snacks spilling out on the desk and music playing softly in the background. The mess have become such an essential part of the space that without it, you doubt you will recognize the room.

Yooyeon looks up from her bed, where she's lounging with her phone. She's dressed causual with a twist as usual - an oversized grey t-shrit with the words "You Shall Not Pass" emblazoned across the front and swetpants of the same color. As soon as she notices me, an infectious grin spreads across her face

"Xinyu! You are back!" She exclaims, eyes bright. "Did you finally make a friend or are you still on a first name basis with the library?"

"Ha ha. Very funny" I retort sarcastically as I shove my bag on the bed. "But yeah. I guess so"

She immediately sits up, her attention solely on me. "Wait, what? For real?"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. That's the thing about Yooyeon. It's like she has her own respirator of dopamine. Always on her feet. Not a hint of worry in those blue eyes.

"Her name's Sohyun. We met at the café" I answer, keeping my tone casual. One wrong octave and Yooyeon would immediately detect it.

"Ooooh, a café conversation, huh? Sounds like the opening to a great novel" She laughs, flopping back down to her bed. "What did you two talk about?"

I shrug, though I have anticipated the question. "Just espresso and....people"

Yooyeon grins even wider. "Don't tell me you spill your heart out. Cuz that would be really really-"

"It's nothing like that" I quickly interrupt. "It was just small talk. She's really easy to talk to"

"Easy is good. You need easy" Yooyeon bounces off her bed and start rummaging through her cupboard box of numerous books and posters. It has been a week and she still hasn't bothered to arrange her stuffs.

Not a moment sooner, she pulls out two bright blue mugs. "We should celebrate your burgeoning social life. I have got hot chocolate mix somewhere"

I roll my eyes. "You are impossible"

"Impossibly fun" Yooyeon winks as she pours the hot chocolate mix into the mugs and adds some hot water, the steam curling up. "You are on your way to becoming a social butterfly. Next thing you know, you will be hosting literary salons"

"Sure. After I finish this semester's readings" I reply lightly though the idea terrifies me.

Yooyeon hands me the steaming mug with a triumphant grin. "Here's to new friends and the magic of coffee! If you ever need a social coach to take you on this emotional espresso journey, I'm always available"

I take the mug from her, the warmth of it seeping into my palms. "No thanks"

"Aww come on. I can be the Ron to your Harry. Or the Peeta to your Katniss. Wait, nevermind. That's not a good idea" Yooyeon says, never failing to showcase her obsession with fiction. If Sohyun wants to do a thesis on espresso, Yooyeon would probably make one on Hunger Games. But her dream is closer to being a reality, given how she's in media studies.

"Isn't that the guy....who got like brainwashed or something?" I try to recall the memoies of the movie from time immemorial.

"Yeah. Poor Peeta..." Yooyeon says with a dreamy tone before she brings the mug to her lips.

"Fuck! It's hot" She yelps, immediately recoiling and almost spilling the hot drink.

"Who? Peeta?" I ask.

"No. The hot chocolate. Wait, no. I mean yes. Peeta, not this god awful drink" Yooyeon says while she furiously fans her mouth.

I can't help the chuckle that escape my lips. "I have always liked that Gale guy better"

Yooyeon's eyesbrow knit at my remark. And I already know a debate is headed my way.

"For starters,..."

And so it begins. I participate anyway although I know Yooyeon would win in the end as she always does. I'm not geeky enough for this.

But it doesn't matter. Because she's the only friend I have for now. Debating on fictional man not to be the odd one out doesn't seem so bad of a trade.

Would Sohyun like Gale better than Peeta?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I'm up early the next morning. The kind of early that makes the world feels like it's still deciding whether or not it should go back to sleep. I look at the bedside clock - 5:55 am. Ha. I beat the alarm today.

Soft gray light shines through a hatch between the curtains, the world outside still enshrouded in the morning mist. All is quiet except for the occasional footsteps and soft snores of Yooyeon , whose face is half buried in the pillow. I smile, knowing she won't be up for at least an hour. The girl's have been up all night finishing an assignment.

I shiver slightly as the cool air grazes my skin when I pull the covers off. The mornings are getting colder, the first hints of autumn sneaking in. And it means I will have a harder time exiting the warm embrace of my sheets.

The chill in the air clings to me as I head towards the common bathroom. The hallways are empty at this time of the day. Not much early risers here. This building, Bradford Hall, is one of the older dorms on the campus. The floors creak with each step I take and the white paint on the wall have faded with age. For no reason, the place indulges a sense of legacy in me. Like I'm a part of something greater. Maybe it's the smell of chamomile that always hangs in the air.

The walk to the bathroom doesn't take long since my room's on the first floor. There's no burden of stairways. It takes five minutes tops for me to clean up - brush my teeth, wash my face and a couple arrangement of my messy hair that will stay the same way after. I still don't understand how some people manage to spend hours in the bathroom. Making yourself presentable shouldn't be that hard.

When I come back to the room, Yooyeon has tossed over, almost draping off the bed and murmuring something that sounds like a spell. She might be visiting middle-earth, Hogwarts and god knows where.

I cross over to my side of the room, the territory determined by an imaginary line Yooyeon have drawn on the first day. The room is barely big enough for two twin beds, a couple desks and a shared closet. My space is plain, simple. Almost empty except for the small lamp and the stack of books. It works fine by me.

Yooyeon's, however, is a total contrast. Her walls are covered with posters of whatever fictional book or movie you cam name. Not to mention the figurines that line her desk. "They give me motivation" Yooyeon has said. In my opinion, I wouldn't want an inch tall Darth Vader monitoring me all night. I bet Yooyeon would consider that 'hot' too.

I rummage through my closet without any initial dress code in mind. There isn't a need to worry. People wouldn't be up yet. There's no one to impress. I decide to go simple pulling on a bright blue sweater over my shirt and pulling on a pair of jeans. I slip on my worn-out sneakers, their familiar creaks greeting me. After a glance in the mirror, I decide to let my loose locks fall freely. I grab my bag and leave, careful not to wake Yooyeon, who's on the brink of falling off the bed.

The campus seems almost unrecognizable at this time of the day - the morning light bathing it in a warm glow that makes everything looks like it belongs to a painting. The air is still, undisturbed by the usual hustle of students. I take a deep breath as I make my way down the brick path.

The clues of autumn are scattered here and there - the air crisp and the leaves tinged with green and yellow like they haven't decided their favorite color yet. To my left, the towering main library roses like a cathedral, fog clinging to its ebony walls. The arched windows reflecting the sun rays.

Further down, the old lecture halls rise up on either sides of the path. They look like relics from the ancient past, a time unbeknownst. The ivy covered walls adding into its timelessness.

They weren't joking about this place being 'old'.

Ahead, the dining hall comes into view, no less younger than its confidants. With the dark wood beams and the high ceiling, it looks almost like a castle. The stone steps leading to the entrance are worn smooth by countless steps and the wooden doors, though thoroughly polished, creaks slightly as I push them open.

Inside, the place is most empty, save for a couple students scattered around. The smell of coffee and pastries fill the air, comforting in a way that makes me want to stay for hours. I grab a tray, throws on a couple of sandwiches and a glass of juice. My morning appetite have never been impressive.

I takes my usual place near one of the stained glass windows, spots of light showering on the table. I love this place. It's quiet and peaceful. Maybe except when Yooyeon's accompanying me.

I'm haflway through a cheese sandwich when the door swing opens.

Sohyun.

She walks in with a group of friends, at least five of them, talking and laughing. Their energy seemingly announcing they belong here.

Sohyun's dressed in almost the same way at our first meeting - a loose white shirt and cargos. And she strides across the hall with the same confidence from that day.

I didn't mean to stare but my eyes follow her, weaving through tables with her friends trailed behind. Like maybe our encounter was an interlude to something more.

I know I should go back to my sandwhich but when the soul craves, the body has to suffice. She turns my way just for a split second and without thinking, I give her a small smile. It's nothing special, really - just a 'Hey. I remember you from yesterday' kind of smile.

But Sohyun's eyes sweep over me as if I'm not even there and soon, she's swept up with her friends again, laughing at something they said.

It stings. Though it has no reason to. It's like a tiny blow that leaves you off-balance but not strong enough to knock you off your feet. Before I even realize it, my lips have pursed into a tight line and I'm already staring down at the unfinished plate of sandwiches. Maybe, yesterday was just a fever dream.

I didn't expect much, really. A nod, a wave, a smile - a sign of acknowledgement. Anything. I tell myself not to care. It's rudiculous to yearn for approval from someone you shared a coffee table with. But I can't help the cold weight settling in my chest.

I glance up at her again. She's still at the counter, taking her sweet time choosing her breakfast. The way she holds herself is so natural, like she belongs anywhere she goes. I envy that about her. I have always been needed to prove to earn a place in society while she just waltz through everything without a care.

Why is it bothering me so much?

Maybe I should be grateful for her brief cameo in my life. Or maybe it would have been better if we never met. Then she will just be another student who comes to eat breakfast. Not Sohyun.

But now, it's infecting me.

I take a sip of my orange juice, focusing on the cold liquid that wash down my throat. It's nothing, I tell myself. It's jst a stupid plea for attention. It doesn't matter. I have always been good at finding meanings in small thing but sometimes, small things are just......small. There's no more meaning to them than what they are.

Maybe that's all this is.

I watch her from the corner of my eyes as she settles down at a table with her friends, her laughter ringing out across the hall again. And for a momet, I almost want to laugh. Not because anything is funny but beacause how easily she moves through the world, through life.

And how easily she has forgotten me.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Over the next week, autumn have crept in like a quiet exhale. The trees have turned amber and yellow, their leaves falling in slow spiral onto tbe brick paths. The air has become sharp enough to sting my skin when I go out. It's the season of change, like people say. But this year, there's something unsettling about the sudden shift. Like I'm not ready for new beginnings.

Most of my time is spent surrounded by books and notes. Despite the constant pressure, it's nice to finally have a rhythm to life again. The rhythm that my fear of rejection have indulged. I have recovered quick and Sohyun has faded into nothing but another human whose life happen to cross ways with mine.

It's nothing to dwell on.

I sit at my desk, my table lamp casting a faint glow on the pages of 'Jane Eyre'. The word file opened on my laptop is still in the same state as it has been in the last hour - celan and empty. The syllables for the essay due tonight doesn't seem to be manifesting anytime soon.

I tap my fingers idly on the edge of the desk, glancing at the clock. It's nearly midnight now. The campus has gone still save for the ocassional laughter and footsteps of latecomers from the corridor. Peaceful. Quiet. But still not helping me collect my scattered thoughts.

I'm about to give up for the night and go to bed when the door suddenly flies open with a buest of energy and Yooyeon, in all her chaotic glory, stumbles into the room. She's panting, yet she has this wide grin plastered on her face.

I look up from my desk, startled by the sudden enteance. "Hey"

"Hey" she says, plopping down on the bed. "Guess what?"

I raise an eyebrow, bracing myself for whatever dramatic new she has to deliver. "What?"

"Yeonjun wants me to meet him at one of those fancy clubs. And he asked me to bring a friend" She grins even wider. "Guess who that friend's gonna be"

I blink. "Not me"

Yooyeons gives me a look, the kind that says she's not giving up until I give in. "Yes, you. Come on, Xinyu. You have been locked up here for so long. You need to get out"

"I've been studying" It's not enitirely a lie but it's not the truth either.

But Yooyeon's having none of it. "Studying, hiding, same difference. You are coming with me. Plus, it will be fun. Who know? Maybe you will even find a cute boy" She winks, then whispers. "Or a girl"

I'm not quick enough to surpress the blush that creeps up my cheek. "Yooyeon!"

"What? Don't tell me you still can't forget Ms. Espresso"

"This has nothing to do with her" To my surprise, my voice comes out shrill. "I'm just-"

"Blah blah blah. More excuses" Yooyeon cuts me off. "Come on, Xinyu. You will be doing me a huge favour. Yeonjun thinks I have no friends"

"You do have friends"

"Yeah. But no one would be available this late. And I'd rather go with you. You are....less dramatic"

Despite myself, I can't help but chuckle. "You mean 'naive' "

She shrugs, throwing a pillow at me. "You know what I mean. I don't need to worry about you throwing up or passing out or sleeping with the wrong guy"

"You just wants a wingwoman who will behave"

"Exactly" Yooyeon snaps. "So, what do you say? We'll go meet Yeonjun, hangs out for a bit. Then, we can come back to your books if you want"

I glance at my laptop, ths text cursor blinking in and out of existence as if reminding me of the marks soon to be lost. It's tempting to stay here but Yooyeon's right. Perhaps, I can take a breather just this once.

I sigh, pushing my chair back. "Fine. But don't expect me to drag your drunk ass back here"

Yooyeon lets out a triumphant squeal, practically bouncing off the bed. "Yes! You won't regret it"

She's already heading to the door when I throw a sweater over my shoulder. Yooyeon's dressed in her usual fit - jeans and a Lord of the Rings shirt, the one that says "You shalll not pass".

"Seriously? You are wearing that shirt again?" I ask, eyeing her.

Yooyeon shrinks away in mock offense. "Excuse me? Have some respect for the classics. Everybody loves Gandalf"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Let's go"

As soon as we step out of the building, we are hit by the cool night air. The campus is fast asleep, the street lamps casting long shadows across the brick paths. It feels peaceful, almost serene.

Yooyeon immediately starts chattering about this new Draco-Harry fiction, her hands waving animatedly as she speaks. I listen, half-distracted, my thoughts finding their way back to a topic unexplored for some times - Sohyun.

Maybe that morning in the dinining hall doesn't mean anything. It's jut a moment, and moments pass.

Despite the countless convincements, a part of me still wonders. What if she had smiled back? What if things have happened differently?

"Earth to Xinyu. Helloooooo" Yooyeon's voice break through my thoughts and I realize she has been talking to me this whole time.

"Sorry" I mumble, recomposing myself. "What were you saying?"

"I said, what do you think of Yeonjun?"

"He seems...nice" I answer, though I barely remember the guy.

Yooyeon grins, clearly pleased. "I know, right? He's the sweetest. And he's really into Harry Potter too, so that's a bonus"

I hum in agreement. Yooyeon's world seems so simple - vibrant, full of energy. Meanwhile, mine feels like the polar opposite. I'm always overthinking, second-guessing.

"Hey" Yooyeon nudges me with her elbow. "You are being all broody again. Stop it. We are going to have fun"

"Yeah, okay" I say, offering her a small smile.

I breath in the autumn air, hoping that mayb, I can stop cllinging onto a loose thread.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The club is a short walk off campus, tucked into a narrow street line with food trucks and cafés that come alive at night. As me and Yooyeon approach, the distant music grows louder, the rhythmic bass reverberating beneath our feet.

A small line of people snaked out of the entrance, marked by a neon sign displaying its name "The Tavern". The building itself is unassuming, with dark brick walls and small windows dimly lit from the inside.

When we step in, the place opens into a large space with low lighting. The bar run along one side while the rest of the room is a dance floor, dotted with tables around the edge. The air is buzzing with music and energy - people pressed close together, shouting whatever on their mind over the DJ's beat. It's an enitrely different world from the quiet, orderly campus.

"There he is!" Yooyeon yells over the music, wavibg wildly at someone near the bar. I follow her gaze and find a guy leaning against the counter, already grinning like a madman. Yeonjun. I recognize him from the first (and the only) time Yooyeon introduced me. He seems to reflect Yooyeon's restless vigour - a match made in heaven (or Hogwarts, whatever).

"Yeonjun. You remember Xinyu, right?" she says, taking her place next to him. He offers me a smile, not too over the top, but friendly enough. "The one who's always drowning in books?"

I give him an awkward wave. "Hey"

"Nice to meet you again" He says, his voice smooth. "Yooyeon's always talking about you"

"Only good things, I hope"

He laughs. "All good. Don't worry"

Yooyeon reaches for Yeonjun's half-finished shot of whiskey on the counter but get stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.

"Eh eh eh. You are ordering your own drink, miss"

Yooyeon pouts at Yeonjun's remark. "You don't even want to share a drink with your girlfriend?"

"You see. The reason it's called a 'shot' is that it's meant to be savoured by a single individual" Yeonjun's voice has gone unsettlingly serious.

"And they say Xinyu's the smart one" Yooyeon says, punching his arm.

"And they say men are the agressors" Yeonjun retorts. "How do you even deal with this witch, Xinyu?"

Before I can think of anything to say, Yooyeon grabs his arm. "Before I cast a casual Crucio on your sorry ass, we should get to the dance floor"

Yeonjun didn't argue with that. The banter is just their way of communicating. "Xinyu, you should come too" he invites.

"Uh.....no. I'm good. You two go ahead"

"Are you sure?" Yooyeon asks, despite knowing nothing can budge me. "It wil be fun, I promise"

I shake my head, smiling. "I will pass. I think I will just....get a drink"

Yooyeon is silent for a moment, then she's off, dragging Yeonjun into the sea of bodies. I watch them disappear, Yooyeon's laughter echoing back, carefree and loud, like she's exactly where she belongs.

Me, though? Not so much. So, I head to the bar,sliding onto one of the stools and order a Coke. There's no need for anything stronger. I can barely tolerate anything that have the slightest bit of alcohol and that's speaking from experience. The bartender barely looks at me as he hands it over, already moving on to his next order.

I take a sip and glance around. The place is packed, bodies moving in rhythm, couples tangled up in each other and some loners who are just swaying, lost in the music. It's loud, chaotic and I feel totally out of place. It's not that I don't want to have fun - I just don't know how to in place like this. Maybe my definition of 'fun' is different from everyone here.

I lean back against the bar and take another sip. The girls here are all glitter and glamour - tight dresses, high heels and bold colors, shimmering under the disco light. Like the night is made for them.

And then there's me in my oversized sweater and faded jeans. My white sneakers seems an imposter to their sleek heels. I have been so eager to get out of my comfort zone for once that I forget to do the necessary preparations.

I search for Yooyeon's familiar face in the crowd, but she's lost in the restless horde, probably twirling around with Yeonjun. I'm happy for her but all I feel is...detached. It's pathetic. I know. I'm too old not to know my constant fear of being the outsider, of being denied.

I'm halfway through my coke when I feel someone slide into the seat next to me, the barstool creaking under the weight. I didn't look up, hoping that it's just another stranger who comes to mind their own business. But then, he clears his throat, loud enugh for me not to ignore.

"Hey" a voice rings out, smooth but with a cocky edge.

I glanced over and there he is - perfect hair, gleaming jacket and a gold chain around hid neck. I might not be the best at socializing but I recognize the type immediately - the kind that's used to getting everything he wants. I can see it from his look, like he spends too much time in front of the mirror. He gives me a lazy smile, the one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come here often?" He ask, leaning a bit too close. His cologne is strong and mixed with the sour stench of his breath, it's impossible not to flinch

"No" I say flatly, taking a sip of my coke.

"That's a shame. You should. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting alone"

I bristle at that, the compliment feeling more like an insult. "I'm not really into clubs" I reply, my lazy tone desperately showing my lack of interest.

He either doesn't know or care. Instead, he leans closer, his elbow casually resting on the bar next to me. "You just haven't found the right sort of people. I could show you a good time, you know"

I swallow a sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm fine, thanks"

But he only smiles wider, as if my rejection is part of a game he's used to playing. "You sure? Cuz I don't see anyone with you here. How about I buy you another drink? Something better than coke"

"No, really. I'm good" I say, more firmly this time, hoping he will get the message. But the bastard won't take his eyes off me.

"You are playing hard to get, huh?" He tilts his head. "You wouldn't believe how many girls like you I have seen. Acting all tough, only to end up in my bed at the end"

That did the job for me. I straighten up in my seat. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, come one. I'm just-"

"Fuck off, Taeil"

A voice cuts through the tension and I instinctively turn my head toward the source. Sohyun stands a few feet away, arms folded. Her shirt has been tucked into her dark jeans, casual but sharp. Her eyes narrow onto the guy who is now known as Taeil, as if she's used to seeing the scene plays out.

Taeil straighten up, his smile wavering. "Relax. We are just talking"

"No, you are not" Sohyun steps closer, gaze hard and unblinking. "Here's what's gonna happen. You are going to walk away and leave her alone.

Taeil's smirk returns but it's not so sure as before. "And what exactly are you going to do if I don't?"

Sohyun's lips curve into a smile, one colder than any I have seen from her. She pulls out her phone, holding it up for him to see. "Let's see. I don't think your parents will be so happy to see their son acting like a druggie. Plus, it wouldn't be good for either you or your parents if the video end up in the wrong hands"

All the color drain out if Taeil's face, leaving him gaping. "You are blaffing" He protests, though the panic is clear as day in his voice.

"You know I'm not" Sohyun smiles like a predator who has cornered its prey. "So, fuck off"

For a moment, there's silence, the music filling in the temporary gap. Taeil shifts on his feet, his confidence all gone and finally, he lets out a sharp breath. "Fine. Whatever" His eyes flash with fury. "But this isn't over yet"

Sohyun gives him a mock wave, wriggling her fingers as he strides out of the club.

I exhale, realizing I have been holding my breath. I look over at Sohyun, who's still standing there with her phne. A neutral look has returned to her face. Like the Sohyun just a moment ago was a totally different person.

"You ok?" She asks, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

"I - yeah. Thanks" I reply, still a little stunned.

She shrugs, giving me a small smile, genuine this time. "That guy's a creep"

I nod, processing everything that has happend in the last few minutes. Sohyun, the psychologist. Sohyun, the saviour. What isn't she?

She pulls up the stool next to mine, the one Taeil has occupied just a moment ago and settles in. I shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of her presence, of how close she is. The bar light cast little shadows on her face, illluminating the little details on her face I haven't noticed before. The tiny mole on her nose catches the light first, then the one under her left eye. They are so small, barely there but they stand out now that I'm seeing her up close.

"First time here?" She asks. How she knows, I have no idea. Maybe it's my my clothes that give it away.

"Yeah" I admits, a little sheepishly. "It's not really my kind of place"

Sohyun raises an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. "Yeah, I figured. You don't exactly look like you are having the time of your life"

I let out a small laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

She smirks, her eyes flickering over to my outfit. "Just a little"

I glance down, fidgeting with the edge of my sweater, suddenly even more aware of my appearance. "It's not really.....I don't usually go to places like this"

"So, not a party person?" Sohyun's voice is more curious than judegemental.

"Not really" I admit. "I'm more of a...stay-in and read type"

Her smile grows and for a moment, the chaotic sounds of the club faded as if we are alone. "Well, you are here now. So might as well try to enjoy it"

She's so easygoing, so at ease with herself it makes me want to throw caution to the wind too. But then, I remembered that morning in the dining hall and my stomach twists. The memory is still nagging at the back of my mind. I bite my lower lip, debating whether or not I should bring up the subject.

Sohyun takes a sip from my nearly empty can of coke and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. "I saw you the other morning. At the dining hall"

Her eyebrows knit together in curiousity. "Oh?"

"I smiled at you" I say. "But you didn't see me"

Or act like you don't, I thought.

Her eyes widen for a moment before she speaks."Wait, really? Xinyu, I'm sorry. I didn't see you"

I blink. "You didn't?"

She shakes her head. "I swear. If I'd seen you, I would have smiled back. I promise. I guess I was just in my own head then. I'm sorry"

Her words are soft, delicate and sincere. It unravels the knot in my stomach I have pretended to be non-existent. Still, she could be lying but I decide to trust her,realizing how much I care about what she thinks of me.

I galnce away, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly. "It's okay" I mumble, sipping from the empty can of coke. "I just thought....maybe I'd misread things"

Sohyun gives me a small, warm smile. "You didn't misread anything. I'm sorry if you feel like that"

She's apologizing too much now it's starting to get uncomfortable. So I dismiss it with a nod.

Sohyun shifts in her seat, her eyes flickering down to my sweater, which have bunched up awkwardly from the way I have been sitting. Before I can fix it myself, she reaches over. Her finges gently tug at the hem of my sweater, smoothing it down without a second thought.

"There" she says, her hand lingering a moment longer more before she pulls it back.

I'm still processing the gesture when almost absentmindedly, she reaches out and brush a stray strand of my hair out of my eyes. Her fingertips skim the side of my face and for a moment, time slows down - just enough for me to notice the way her eyes soften.

"There you go" she says, leaning back. "Now you are perfectly suited for the night life"

We both smile at that and for a heartbeat, I swear I can feel something shift between us. Something I can't quite name. Something that might as well be a misinterpreted signal.

The air settles into a quiet lull, the ghost of her fingers still tingling on my skin. The warmth of the moment hangs awkwardly between us and for a moment, all I can do is sit there, actuely aware of the silent between us.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Do you come here alone too?"

The corner of her mouth quriks up like she finds my question amusing. "Alone?" she repeats. "No. Not really. I'm here with my friends most of the time"

I nod. "So, are they here tonight?"

She glances towards the dance floor. "Yeah. They are somewhere out there" she says with a small laugh. "I kinda slipped away for a bit. Needed a break"

A break. From what, though? The noise? The people? The club?

I hesistate for a second. "Not really your scene either?"

She gives me a sideway glance. "It's fun but...sometimes, I don't know. It can geta little old. Same people, same music"

"Yeah" I agree. "I get that"

She taps her fingers against the bar, thoughtful for a moment. "What about you? Do you come here yourself or did Yooyeon drag you here?"

My eyes widen. "You know Yooyeon?"

Sohyun chuckles softly. "We are friends on instagram. She followed me first, I think? She seems fun"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah. She's definitely fun"

Sohyun tilts her head, as if searching for Yooyeon in the crowd. "She told me she's your roommate when I mentioned I see you in one of her stories. She's been hyping you up"

"She -what?" I stare at her, feeling the panic rising in my chest. "Hyping me up?"

Sohyun greans, leaning in just close enough for me to catch a faint scent of her perfume. "Yeah. She says you are a lot cooler than you let on"

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "That's Yooyeon....being Yooyeon"

"Well, she's not wrong" Sohyun adds, her eyes catching mine for a split second before she goes back to staring at the dance floor.

The silence settles in again, like an early intermission. Sohyun's eyes flicker back to me and I try to ignore the way she's watching me like she's considering something. I sip at the can of Coke that has been emptied long since.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" She asks so casually, like it's something she asks anyone alone in a night like this.

"What?" I ask, unsure if I've heard it right over the loud music.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "It's too loud. And hot. Let's do something fun"

I hesistate, unknowingly squeezing the coke can flat. "Like what?"

Sohyun gives me a small smile, laced with certainity and mischeif. "Trust me. You will like it"

There's something in her voice that disarms me. Perhaps it's because this night has already been so surreal, with Yooyeon dragging me here, the drinks, the noise and then Taeil's annoying persistence. And now, Sohyun, who had seemingly ignored me is suddenly offering to whisk me away. It feels like too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.

I find myself nodding faster than my brain can catch up. "Okay"

Sohyun stands, sliding a couple bills on the counter before I can protest. She doesn't say anything, just gestures towards the door, and I follow her out of the club.

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The air outside is sharp and cold and for once I'm grateful for my out of place sweater. Sohyun, however, doesn't seem to be fazed. If not, she seems to be enjoying it.

The music fades into the distant as we walk in silence, winding through the quieter streets near the campus. I don't ask where we are going and she doesn't offer an explanation. Instead, we fall into step beside each other, our shoulders brushing ocassionally. My pulse is still racing, though I don't know if it's from the club or from the cold.

Sohyun's pace is unhurried, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans and I keep my arms wrapped around myself, pulling my sweater tight. After a while, we reach one of the taller campus buildings, its ivy covered walls bathed in the moonlight. During the day, these buildings always looks heavy, weighted down by unknown legacies. But under the silvery gloom of night, it has all been replaced by a strange sort of calm.

"Come" Sohyun gestures towards the side door as she leads me in. The hallway is dim, lit only by the low, humming lights overhead. She doesn't say a word as she climbs up the stairs, up and up until we reach the top floor. I'm breathless by the time we come to a stop in front of an old, rusted door, with a faded sign that reads Roof Access: Authorized Personnel Only.

Sohyun gives me a quick wink as she pushed open the door with a soft creak. "Not like anyone ever come here" She mutters to herself as she steps out into the night.

I follow her onto the roof, and for a moment, I'm stunned. The sky stretches out above us, a blanket of stars scattered across the black canvas of night. The city lights flicker below and I can still hear the distant sound of traffic but for the most part, it's quiet. Like the rooftop itself is another world within this world. The wind tugs at my sweater and I pull it even tighter around me, bracing against the sudden rush of cold.

Sohyun is already sitting at the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the side, her gaze fixed on the stars. She pats the spot next to her and I sit, careful to keep a distance between us.

I tilt my head up, admiring the stars, feeling the enormity of the night settling down on me. "You come here often?"

"Yeah" Sohyun says, her voice soft. "Whenever I need to think. Or when I just need a breather"

I nod, unsure what to say. This isn't what I expected when she said something fun. But in a way, it's better.

We sit in silent for a moment, the only sounds the wind and the distant hum of the city below. This calm, it's peaceful and stirring at the same time. As if there's a deeper meaning to it that I can't quite grasp.

"It's funny" she says. "Back in the country, I used to lie out in the fields and just....watch the stars. Sometimes, I would stare at them for hours. It never fails to soothe me"

I watch the way her eyes trace the sky as if she's searching for something. To be honest, I have expected someone like her to be from a big city. An image of her anywhere else is unimaginable.

"Must've been nice" I murmur. "Being able to see them so clearly"

She nods. "Yeah. It's not the same here. The city kinda takes over. Light pollution and all"

I can hear the nostalgia in her voice and for a moment, I imagine her as a little girl lying under that wide country sky, her face lit by starlight. There's something tender about it, something that makes me want to reach for a fragment of her from a different time.

After a pause, I point up at the sky. "Well, we've got stars here too. Not as bright, but they are still there"

Sohyun tilts her head, following where I'm pointing and I can't help but smile a little. "Okay, bear with my nerdiness for a second"

She chuckles. "Go for it"

I lift my hand, tracing an invisible line through the air. "That's Orion. See the three stars right there, in a row? That's his belt"

Sohyun squints, trying to follow. "Oh, I think I see it"

"Orion was a hunter" my voice dropping slightly as I tell the story. "A really good one too. Some says he fell in love with the goddess Artemis but her brother, Apollo, wasn't too happy about it so he tricked Artemis into killing Orion" I pause. "She realized her mistake too late and heartbroken, she placed him among the stars so she can always see him"

The story hangs in the air when I finish. I glance at Sohyun, her face bathed in a soft glow. She's quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"That's kind of sad" she says quietly.

"Yeah" I whisper. "It is"

I shift slightly, turning to face her and she does the same. Our eyes meet and for a moment, the world stills. I notice the way her hair flatters with the breeze, the city lights reflected in her eyes and the faint smile tug at her lips.

"You are really something, you know that?" she says, her voice low. "Is this your revenge for my espresso lecture?"

I blink, then smiles, feeling the tension melt away. "Maybe" I say, my voice almost teasing. "But instead of coffee, I use tragic mythological hunters"

Sohyun tilts her head, her smile widening. "Touché. You really know how to open-up someone"

"It's a natural talent" I shrug, although my sarcastic tone gives away the bluff.

"So, this is how you get back at people?" She continues, her voice still teasing. "By making them feel guilty for their ignorance about constellations"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Please, you are not the first person to endure my mythology rants. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't longer"

"And I thought my espresso thesis was bad enough"

It's like we are back in the café except that now, I'm the one doing most of the talking. But we are still the same two people with their own crazy obsessions.

Then in the lightest of gestures, Sohyun reaches out. Her fingers find the sleeve of my sweater, gently tugging at the cuff, as though fixing it, like she did earlier. She looks at me, eyes warm and amused.

"Revenge or not" she says, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I think I like your stories"

I swallow, trying not to lose my footing in the closeness of the moment. "Well" I managed to say, my voice uneven. "Next time, I will make sure to pick a happier story"

Sohyun chuckles, leaning back, although her eyes never leave me. "I will hold you to that"

The air around us suddenly become charged with something unspoken. There's a quiet, almost reverent pause in the conversation as if neither of us wants to break whatever delicate thread is holding this moment together.

Sohyun shifts slightly, inching just the slightest to my side. The stars seem to burn brighter, and I find myself leaning into the silence, into the space between us that feels both heavy and light at the same time.

"Do you ever feel like....." Sohyun starts, her voice quiet, like she's speaking into the night as much as to me. "Like everything around you is waiting for something to happen?"

I blink, her words sinking into the stillness. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her gaze flickers back to the stars. "Like....right now, for instance" Her eyes meet mine again, and there's something in her expression, like she's trying to find the right words. "It's like we are on the edge of something"

Her words send a shiver through me, not from the cold but the hidden meaning underneath. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but it's one I've been pushing aside ever since we met. The strange pull towards her, a quiet fascination that has grown into something else entirely, something that's so wrong and so right at once.

I glance at her and find myself staring at the mole under her left eye, like I'm seeing her for the first time.

"I know what you mean" I finally say, my voice almost too quiet like I'm afraid to break this fragile peace between us. My hands tighten around the railing and I glance down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "It's like.....something have changed"

She moves an inch more closer, the space between us nearly non-existent now. I wonder if she can hear my heartbeat now. My breath catch in my throat as she leans in, enough to cover the remaining space distancing us.

"You are right" she says softly. "Something has changed"

It's so quiet, her voice almost swallowed by the night. MY gaze flickers to her lips for a second - a brief unintentional moment that I quickly pull back from. But I wasn't quick enough.

Sohyun notices. I can see it in her way her expression shifts. And she knows that I know that she knows. Her hand, resting casually on the railing, moves slightly, her fingers brushing against mine in the lightest of touches. It's barely a graze but it's enough to send electricity tingling through my nerves.

The moment stretches, suspended between us, as if we're waiting for something to happen or maybe just waiting for one of us to make a move. The tension is palpable now, not uncomfortable, but thick, charged with possibility.

I can't tell who moves first, or if we even move at all. It's like an invisible force has suddenly drawn us together. Her face is so close now, I can see the way my breath mingles with hers in the cool night air.

Then slowly - so slowly it feels like the world is holding its breath - Sohyun lifts her hand. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my sweater, smoothing a wrinkle near my shoulder like she did the last two times. But this time, it's different. There's an unspoken intentionality to it that makes my breath quickens.

Her hand lingers, tracing the fabric for a moment longer than necessary. And then, without breaking eye contact, she lifts her other hand, gently tucking a strand of stray hair way from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The tender touch send a warmth through me.

Suddenly, everything feels sharper, more vivid - the sound of the wind, the soft glow of the city lights, the way her fingers linger near my cheek, as if she's waiting for my permission to go further.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, not even sure what I'm trying to say, but needing to say something, anything, to break the tension between us.

But she doesn't move. She just watches me, her eyes searching mine, her hand still resting gently on my cheek. "Is this okay?" she asks as if it's a secret we only know.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak without stuttering, unable to think of anything but the way her breath feels against my skin.

And then so so slowly, it feels like time has stopped, she leans in.

Her lips brush against mine in the lightest of touches, barely a kiss at all, more like a promise, like she's testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away, to tell her to stop.

But I don't. I won't.

Because in that moment, everything have ceased to exist - the city, the stars, the quiet night around us. All that's left is the warmth of her lips, the way they press against mine, gentle but certain.

I kiss her back, just as softly, just as tentatively. And for a moment, it feels like my life has reached its epitome.

Sohyun's hand, resting near my cheek, slides down to cup my jaw, her fingers warm against my skin. She tilts her head slightly, pressing her lips more firmly against mine, and I feel a soft sigh escape me before I could stop it.

My hands, awkward at first, find their way to her waist. I hold her there, not too tight, but enough to feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. She responds by pulling me closer, her fingers slipping into my hair, tugging me gently, deepening the kiss.

Her hands move from my jaw, sliding down my neck, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. My heart is pounding louder than the wind around us, around the city below. The kiss becomes more insistent, more desperate, as if we are trying to say something through it, something words can't describe.

Sohyun's lips parts with mine and for a moment, I think she's finally pulling away. But instead, she moves closer, her breath ghosting against my jawline. A soft shiver runs through me when I feel the first press of her lips against my neck, light and teasing.

Her mouth moves slowly, gently exploring, like she's savoring the taste of my skin. Her lips trail down the side of my neck, and when she presses a firmer kiss jut below my ear, I can't stop the quiet gasp that betrays my lips.

Sohyun hears it. Of course, she does. And I feel her smile against my skin.

"You are so sensitive here, Xinyu" she whipsers before her lips continue their path lower, her hands finding the back of my neck.

When she presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of my neck, her tongue barley flicking against my skin, I feel my whole body tense with the intensity of it. My hands tighten around her waist, pulling her even closer, yearning for more.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice and her response is to kiss me harder, her lips hot against the sensitive skin of my neck.

The world won't stop spinning, I reduced to nothing but the sensation of her mouth, the warmth of her body against mine and the quiet, breathless sounds that fill the space between us. It's overwhelming and yet, I can't imagine it stopping anytime soon.

When it finally does, I can still feel the ghost of her lips lingering on my skin. I feel her breath, close to my neck for a second longer before she pulls back. The cool night air rushes in where her lips had been, but the heat she left behind stays, radiating beneath my skin.

I open my eyes, barely realizing I have closed them and glance at her. Sohyun doesn't say a word. She just leans in, her dark locks scattering as she rests her head on my shoulder. Her gaze is fixed on the stars, unblinking as if she's trying to imprint them to memory.

But then, without looking away, she lets out a quiet breath and says, so softly I almost miss it.

"Fucking Apollo"

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#triples #park sohyun #zhou xinyu #kpop fluff #girl group fluff #kpop fanfic

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forcedagere · 2 months ago

Text

I personally really like the idea of Bill x Reader x Ford. This one kinda ties into my previous post, but it’s not required reading. I suppose this would be an AU where Ford accepted Bill’s offer during Weirdmaggedon, or something else went wrong resulting in Bill staying in power :)

Contents: forced age regression, yandere, implied mental manipulation

Whereas Bill is far from the best caretaker (though he tries, in his own way), Ford takes care to create a semblance of structure in your life. He doesn’t have tons of practical experience with children or little ones such as you, but he makes up for it with dedication. He takes to caring for you as if it were a newly discovered, fascinating field of study. In other words… He reads many, many books, and tries all kinds of things to figure out what you like best.

Ford is not entirely fond of the kind of dynamic you have with Bill. It's not because he doesn't want to be referred to with parental terms, that's simply a matter of preference, but that he insists on you being friends above anything else. Considering the dynamics at play here, Ford cannot help but view it…

"As simply pedagogically irresponsible, Bill." The triangle in question rolls his eye. "Oh, boohoo! Fancy McFancypants over here knows what’s up!” Bill glances at you from the corner of his eye. Seeing you crack a smile while you’re sketching away with your crayons, he’s encouraged. “You read one book on how to raise a kid, and now you wanna tell me what to do? Get lost. Kid, c'mon, prove him wrong-- I'm your favourite, right?" You look up from your latest piece of art. You are drawing all three of you, in fact. You're usually deaf to their arguments, it's such a constant that you've grown used to the noise and stopped viewing it as a threat. (Your daddy calls it 'bickering'; Billy, when daddy isn't listening, calls it 'flirting'. That makes you giggle.) But you don't like getting involved in it yourself! So you firmly shake your head, and drop the pacifier attached to your necklace to speak. "No favourites… I love you both," you say with the confidence only someone as little as you could have. Billy's eyelid flutters, and your daddy smiles.

To put it simply, Bill is the ‘fun, rule-breaking parent’ and Ford is… A little less that. One should not take Bill Cipher as the benchmark of taking good care of a human, though.

Ford will make sure your meals are more varied than the endless stream of candy that Bill feeds you, and get you tucked in for sleep at regular times, too. Compared to Bill, who enjoys playing games with you and ‘roughhousing’, Ford prefers calmer activities. He’s definitely up for the occasional board game, but, most of the time, he’ll read to you, make drawings upon requests (or give you lessons!), or toy around with science experiments safe for someone who gets the urge to put anything that looks interesting inside their mouth.

He might’ve taken you for an adventure or two outside, but… The world hasn’t been the same since Bill got his hands all over it. He may be technically immortal now. You decidedly are not, as far as he knows. Either way, he doubts that Bill would let you out of this room to begin with. He doesn’t have to ask to be able to know that. If there is any reason he would keep someone locked up the way he does with you, it must be because you have some form of special connection to him. Ford does not believe he would risk that.

Really, Ford isn’t stupid or blind. It’s not that he’s going along with all of this because he is ignorant of Bill’s manipulation of your mental state. Bill can call it a ‘nudge in the right direction’ all he wants. He’s keeping you regressed. But everything has changed. He has changed, and Ford doesn’t know if he made the right decision. He fears he hasn’t. (Somewhere out there, in an alternate universe, a Stanford must live who made a difference decision. Ford hopes he’s happy.)

Spending time in this little contained room, with something dependent on him and eager to be looked after by him, who doesn’t know better and never will… It’s not good, it’s the very definition of selfish, but it’s comforting to him. Grounding, in a sense. With an eternity of time left ahead of him and the foundations of his previous life all but crumbled, he has something steady to return to. It doesn’t matter how much he rationalizes it. It’s twisted and fucked up, plain and simple.

…He supposes he can understand why Bill finds him so amusing, even now.

A little whimper snaps him from the spiral of his thoughts. Your bottle is empty. He should get youa refill, then pull you back on his lap.

#yandere #gravity falls x reader #bill cipher x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #forced agere #reader insert

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nicholasluvbot · 2 months ago

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YOU'RE THE SUN THAT'S IN MY EYES ( SEOK MATTHEW )

— two best friends, a million missed hints, and one group of very impatient matchmakers.

୨୧ fem!reader 𖦹 ( 1573 words ) ⩇ fluff & crack

You had a problem. A very big problem. And that problem was Matthew.

Matthew was your best friend in the whole world. He had been for a while. Except, somewhere along the way, being around him started to make your heart race, and suddenly, you found yourself harboring a very inconvenient, very distracting crush on him. It was ridiculous, honestly. Your heart only acted up because Matthew was nice. He was sweet to everyone, not just you. Surely, you’d get over this stupid infatuation soon. But the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

It was all his fault. Seriously. Because how were you not supposed to swoon whenever he grinned at you? You felt like a complete fool, getting all giddy like a lovesick teenager when Matthew probably didn’t even notice. He was just being friendly, right? That’s what best friends do!

But there were moments. Little moments. That made you question this. Like that one time, when you went to get coffee before an exam, and he’d taken your cold hands in his, lifted them closer to his mouth, and pressed his lips against them to warm them. You were not prepared for that. You swore your knees buckled the moment he did that, heart beating fast and hands still shaking as you went into the exam.

Or how, in class, he always insisted on sitting next to you. His leg would always be pressed against yours, a constant point of contact that left your skin buzzing. And when you pulled away, you’d see his shoulders slump in disappointment from the corner of your eye.

And then there was the heart. The stupid, wobbly-looking heart he once drew on the back of your hand while you were studying. Normally, he’d just draw a penis to annoy you, but no, this time it was a heart. And he’d done it with that little grin on his face, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Matthew was infuriating. Infuriatingly adorable. He was also the funniest and kindest guy you knew. No matter how bad your day was, he always greeted you with that infectious smile—the kind that made your heart stumble and your lips mirror his before you could stop yourself. That was the effect Matthew had on you. He was your walking sunshine, and you were hopelessly addicted to his warmth.

Matthew thinks you’re the stupidest girl on earth. And yes, the prettiest too, but he’ll get to that part later. Right now, you were the stupidest girl ever! He was grappling with the fact that despite all the obvious hints he’d been dropping, you were still completely oblivious to his feelings. It was driving him insane!

He’d been trying so hard to make it clear—flirting, being extra touchy and attentive, drawing hearts on your hand (which he swore was a huge gesture)—but you seemed to think he was just being friendly. And don’t even get him started on Taerae, who kept insisting that Matthew’s so-called “hints” weren’t hints at all, just Matthew being his usual bubbly self.

Matthew strongly disagreed. To him, it was crystal clear that he was practically waving a neon sign that read “I have feelings for you!” He was convinced that if he came right out and told you he loved you, you’d just smile and say, “Thanks,” thinking he was just being friendly. It was infuriating, and frankly, a little heartbreaking.

Maybe you liked Matthew just as a friend. Maybe you were immune to his charm. But if that were true, then why did you look at him like you wanted to kiss the life out of him? And why did you turn bright red whenever his hand brushed against yours, as though a mere touch was enough to set your whole world on fire? So many questions in his head, each more perplexing than the last. He felt like he almost had the answers, but then a creeping doubt would settle in—what if he was just reading too much into it?

The more he tried to make sense of your reactions, the more tangled his thoughts became. The way you laughed at his jokes no matter how lame they were, the way you leaned in unconsciously when you spoke to him, and the way your hands would idly reach up to his hair and play with it—it all seemed like more than mere friendship to Matthew. But the thought that he was just seeing what he wanted to see haunted him.

It didn’t take long for your friends to catch on, too. And God, were they annoying about it. Hao would peer at you and Matthew over the top of his glasses, face scrunched up in utter disgust whenever you two shared even the briefest interaction. A smile? Cue the exaggerated eye roll.

Gyuvin and Ricky weren’t any better, making it a point to cough obnoxiously loud whenever Matthew was trying to speak to you.

“Hey Y/N, your hair looks—” cough, cough. “I really like your—” COUGH, COUGH!

It was like being under constant surveillance by a team of over-the-top drama queens.

Gunwook, though, was the real menace. He’d lean in to give Matthew a hug and end up “accidentally” pushing him toward you, sending you both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. And yet, despite the chaos, neither of you seemed annoyed. If anything, you both secretly enjoyed the feeling of being in each other’s arms, touches lingering just a little longer. And though you’d never admit it, your friends knew. They’d just watch you and Matthew smile at each other with knowing smirks.

Yujin took things to an entirely new level. He’d let out a loud, dramatic gasp whenever your hand brushed against Matthew’s, throwing his hands over his eyes like he’d seen the most scandalous thing ever.

And Jiwoong—this guy had a knack for trickery. Somehow always convincing you and Matthew to wear matching clothes or accessories without either of you realizing, until the boys saw you.

The moment you’d walk in with Matthew, both of you wearing an item of the same color or print, they would erupt into cheers, saying that you two were “basically a married couple now.”

Taerae would then start singing a sad ballad, dragging out every note as much as possible, while wiping fake tears from his eyes, while Hao, Ricky, and Gyuvin would start coming up with baby names. The teasing was relentless.

Hanbin was the only normal one among you. The one beacon of sanity. If anything, he probably felt more embarrassment than you or Matthew ever did. While everyone took a chance to push you two together, Hanbin would just watch from afar, arms crossed, head shaking in disappointment. And when he noticed that you and Matthew actually enjoyed the teasing? Oh, that made it even worse.

Like that one time at a café. The whole group was seated, enjoying their drinks, when Gyuvin decided to be, well, Gyuvin. “Kiss her! Kiss her!” he chanted loudly, just because you’d taken a sip of Matthew’s drink. And of course, the others immediately jumped in, some even banging their fists on the table like they were at a sports game rather than a quiet café. They yelled louder and louder, forgetting about the innocent people around who were probably annoyed by the chants. Hanbin, as usual, just stood off to the side, pretending not to know any of you. His face was buried in his hands as the barista shot your group a death glare. The inevitable happened: you were all kicked out. And Hanbin, red-faced and mortified, sighed deeply as he trailed behind the rest of you.

But nothing could compare to the stunt they’d pulled just now. You and Matthew had cluelessly stepped into the elevator, like you always did, only for it to break down while you two were trapped inside.

“Shit, what do we do now?” you asked, pressing the buttons on the elevator with urgency.

Matthew wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently pulled you toward him. “Don’t worry, it’s probably just the boys playing another prank,” he said softly.

You relaxed at his words. Ricky probably paid someone to do this—at least, you hoped. You went to stand beside Matthew, leaning on the cold elevator wall next to him.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you rubbed your temple and said, “Honestly, they’ve lost all sense of shame.”

Matthew chuckled at your words and turned to face you. “You know, maybe we should just save them the trouble and go out.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, but the grin on your face gave your feelings away. Matthew’s hands were immediately on your hips, pulling you toward him.

The others waited with bated breath, hoping you’d be stuck long enough for something to happen, hoping this would finally force you two to make a move. And it worked. When the doors finally pried open a few minutes later, there you were, mid-kiss, with Matthew’s hand tangled in your hair as you both finally gave in to the tension that had been building for what felt like forever.

The second Gyuvin saw you, he screamed at the top of his lungs, “THEY FINALLY KISSED! OH MY GOD!” as he jumped around. Meanwhile, Yujin stood there, completely flabbergasted at the sight in front of him, mouth hanging open.

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depravitycentral · 11 months ago

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Yandere! Keigo Takami General Profile

Yandere! Keigo Takami x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of non-con, implied masturbation, possessiveness, lots and lots of guilt, Stockholm Syndrome/you've kind of lost it by the end, mentions of eating/eating healthily, mentions of murder, Dabi makes an appearance and is directly responsible for your kidnapping, insinuation that Keigo's jerked it to some rather icky nasty stuff of yours, non-consensual photography, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 15K (genuinely how)

DARLING PROFILE:

Smart

If Keigo was pressed to describe his type, the very first thing that he would blurt out is intelligent. He wants a woman that can match him in terms of intellect. Someone who can follow his quick-paced jokes, his sarcasm, someone that keeps up with him, really.

He finds it wildly attractive when a woman is confident in her own knowledge, and ideally his darling would be knowledgeable in an area he knows next to nothing about.

He likes hearing them spiel on about something they’re passionate about – and he'll be listening, intently, with a hand under his chin and eyes glossed over because while their words are interesting, watching them is really what’s fully engaging him. There’s something wonderful about the way that they’re able to answer all the questions he prompts them with, never missing a beat and fully dissecting his question before giving their best thoughts back.

It’s just wonderful, and although he’d never divulge any sensitive information to them out of fear for their safety, there’s something euphoric about knowing that if he really wanted to, if he could, he thinks they would understand how he feels.

He thinks they could understand how careful he has to be, how he has to think out his every move and word dozens of times in advance, making sure everything is exactly how it should be.

And really, this helps Keigo feel less lonely – it’s less polarizing and solitary if he knows that his darling could support him, even if he won’t tell them anything.

Just the knowledge makes him giddy, his heart beating faster because it feels so very good to not be alone.

Witty

Similarly to their intelligence, Keigo needs a darling who’s able to dish out what he serves. A witty, silver-tongued darling would have him constantly on his toes, finding that speaking with them is entertaining and leaves him wanting more.

His darling isn’t boring, or a drag to speak to – their stories and commentary leave him on the edge of his seat, growing addicted to their voice and finding himself wanting more more more, eagerly asking all sorts of follow-up questions that he normally wouldn’t bother with.

And really, this is one of the first signs that his feelings for them have ventured beyond friendly – he’s never been this invested in someone before, never wanting to interact with them so badly, never wanting to be around them and hear their voice and watch their lips move to form syllables.

He finds his darling’s sense of humor to perfectly match his own, leaving him winded and often more flustered than he’d care to admit.

They’re just so cute – the knowing little look they send him when they crack a bad pun that leaves him chuckling, the way their face scrunches up when they make an accidentally dirty joke.

It’s endearing, really, and it only makes him fall for them harder, his desperation to see them growing stronger with every passing day because god, they’re just so perfect.

Civilian

While Keigo is capable of developing an obsession with a fellow hero, it’s unlikely.

Part of what draws him to his darling is their innocence – they don’t understand the realities of their society, how violent and horrible the darkest members are, how much crime and unrest fills the city streets right under their nose.

It’s the way his darling is able to be so happy and carefree in the face of such terror that draws Keigo in – they practically radiate positivity, talking about their own mundane life and managing to lull Keigo into a false reality that he, too is simply a civilian.

That he isn’t a double agent with a non-existent sense of self, that he isn’t bursting with stress and anxiety at any given time. It’s a nice reprieve, really, and it’s one that he slowly begins craving. The moments of peace and tranquility addict him, causing him to view his darling as a sort of stress-reliever, someone he can go to when things become too heavy, too dark, too much.

He wants to hear about everything happening in their lives – their crazy neighbors, annoying coworkers, the cat they saw crossing the street, the latest thing broken in their apartment. He wants to know about the mundane things, the things he’s never experienced and never will experience.

His darling is a sort of portal to a totally different world – what he could have had if he hadn’t been born into the family he was, if he hadn’t had inherited his quirk, if he hadn’t have done this or that.

His darling represents possibility, a side of Keigo that he desperately, desperately wishes he could embrace – which is why he slowly begins fantasizing about a future with his darling, always complete with a nice little house, a few children, a pretty ring on their finger, and complete domestic bliss.

It’s a dirty fantasy to him, really, something far off and dreamy, but with every interaction he has with his darling, it only stronger, and he only grows more desperate.

Empathetic

Keigo needs someone who is able to see past the layers of persona he puts on as Hawks and instead see him. Keigo Takami. He needs someone who’s able to listen to his words and comfort him, to see the frightened, abused boy he still is at heart.

The idea of a darling who’s able to understand him on such a deep, raw level leaves him feeling equal parts terrified and relieved, because he’s never really had someone there for him before.

The concept of a companion, of someone to rely on and love and cherish is such a foreign concept to him, and although he finds the idea enticing (having watched more than his fair share of rom-coms and trashy romance movies), Keigo doesn’t believe that he’ll ever get to experience it.

His life is too busy and hectic, and having a woman to hold and love and protect would add too much unnecessary strain. Except once he meets his darling and he feels seen for the first time, things begin changing. No longer does he find himself alone, internally grappling with his real identity and his hero identity, slowly losing himself with all the stress and obligations towards the commission.

No, he’s not alone because he has them – his darling, the one who’s smile and a simple brush of their hand leaves him breathless, feeling like a little kid with a sense of wonder and hopefulness and love that makes his heart pound in his chest.

A darling that’s able to incite these feelings in him is really the key to catching his attention in the first place – a cruel fate, really, considering his darlings is only trying to help him, only trying to help reassure him that he doesn’t have to be the ever strong, ever cool Hawks in front of everybody.

It’s a noble thought, really – but ultimately one that dooms his darling, forcing the blond to latch onto them with incredible strength and never, ever letting go.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

It takes quite a while for Keigo’s obsession to form. He’s never really had the time nor desire to get close enough to someone to even consider a relationship, and while he’s a had a one-night stand or two, that one night of intimacy is the closest he’s ever gotten to someone. He’s just not emotionally available, and for very good reason – he’s lived his entire adult life (and much of his youth) completely under the Commission’s control, his every desire, action, and thought controlled by others.

It’s sad and some part of him knows it, pitying himself even, but Keigo’s just not interested in developing any kind of romantic relationship with anyone. He doesn’t have time, and there’s a small part of him that questions if he’s even able to form that kind of a connection with someone. A childhood full of abuse, training and emotional neglect has fucked him up in more ways than one, and he’s genuinely unsure if he’s even capable of something like love, if he’d even be able to give someone a healthy relationship, his heart.

He swears off romance, finding it trivial and just not something for him, but things begin changing the longer he knows you, the longer he’s around you and spends time with you. His feelings are purely platonic at first – you’re funny, someone he finds himself actually getting along with and not dreading seeing, and it’s always a pleasure when he happens to run into you when he’s out on patrol or just wandering around the city in a rare moment of free time.

(And at this point, it genuinely is random – there’s no pre-planned meetings, no orchestrated attempts at just so happening to run into you, no attempt to follow you or know your location at all hours of the day. It’s just fate, really.)

He slowly warms up to you, deciding that he actually really likes you, and as the weeks turn into months, there’s this feeling that starts tugging at his heart. It’s this strange phenomenon where when he’s lost in thought, planning out his next moves in making sure he balances his double agent lifestyle, there’s this lingering thought of you.

He’ll gear up in his hero suit, shrugging the jacket on over his wings and checking himself over in the mirror, only to let his hand linger over his jacket lapel. He’d never noticed the small speck of blood on the tan material – had you? It was surely an enemy’s, some criminal that he’d roughed up a bit too badly before capturing, but it was still an unfortunate sight. His lips quirk down a bit as he thinks of whether you’d noticed it when you’d ran into him at the end of his patrol yesterday – you hadn’t mentioned anything, but maybe you were just being polite.

Something about the thought of you seeing him with blood on him leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

It’s not until a notification on his phone gets his pocket buzzing that he snaps out of his small reverie, blinking at his reflection and feeling a small bit of confusion settle over him. Why was he thinking of you? Surely it wasn’t your blood, and you hadn’t been present during any of his fights yesterday – why had the thought of you popped into his mind?

Keigo’s not sure, but he pushes aside the thought as he jumps off his balcony, the wind catching his wings and letting him soar towards the Hero Commission building.

He doesn’t give it much thought, but then it happens again the next day; he’s out on patrol, flying a good ten feet above the skyline of this particular neighborhood, when he sees a woman walking with a bouquet of flowers. They’re pretty, he supposes – roses mixed with some greenery and tulips, the kind of perfect bouquet you’d see in a rom-com or some cheesy movie.

He smiles a bit, seeing the way the woman was sighing down at them with a dreamy look on her face, and before he can stop himself there’s this flash in his mind of you with flowers in your arms. They’d be a different color, of course – your favorite color, and maybe even a different flower. Whatever one was your favorite, that’s what he’d get you.

He freezes as the last thought flits through his mind, his wings freezing too and causing him to falter a bit mid-air, desperately flapping them to stay afloat. What the hell?

He doesn’t like it, at first – the way you’re slowly seeping into every aspect of his thoughts, always some little twinge of you sitting at the sidelines, an idle thought of wow, you’d look great with that shirt on or a small question of would she like this?

It makes him uncomfortable, because he doesn’t know how to deal with this strange new development – sure, he's heard all about love and falling for someone, because while he may not look like it, he’s watched his fair share of chick flicks and raunchy romances.

But still, this is different – it’s different because it’s him, because it’s you. And it’s different because Keigo notices, as time passes, that none of those films or stories mention just how all-encompassing the feeling is, or how it makes him want to swing by your apartment every night, flying outside your window and letting those honey eyes scan the room to find your familiar figure.

They don’t mention anything about the desire that eats him up at night, how he seems to see you in everything around him – his pillow is soft, but he’s sure your stomach would be softer. His dining chair is comfortable, but having you sit in his lap would make it more comfortable.

The ratty shirt with the massive holes cut in the back is loose on him, but where it looks sloppy on him, you’d manage to look cute, he’s sure. It scares him, if he’s being honest, because he feels his control over himself slowly slipping through his fingers – he can’t stop himself from checking over you when he knows you’re at work, repeatedly flying through the area when he really doesn’t need to, just to make sure there’s no villainous activity.

(And always keeping an eye out for you when he knows your shift is over – he always gets too nervous and chickens out, but one of these days he swears he’s going to swoop down and pick you up, holding you in his arms as he flies around with you, chuckling in your ear and pulling you flush against his body under the guise of ‘safety’ – just please ignore the hardness you feel against your back or the labored breaths in your ear.)

It scares him that he can’t stop himself from suddenly paying much more attention to your every word, listening to you like you’re spouting holy epiphanies as you tell him about your coworkers or this new film you watched, biting his lip and nodding along, letting his eyes occasionally flick down to your mouth as quickly as he can, just so you won’t notice.

Thus starts a troubling pattern – Keigo starts slowly craving learning as much as he can about you, because with every thought that pops up into his head, he finds his knowledge about you is sorely lacking. He doesn’t know what your favorite flower is – he can’t get you that bouquet he was fantasizing of.

He doesn’t know where your favorite take-out place is – he can’t surprise you with dinner on nights he can tell you’re tired. (He can tell because he’d followed you home from the air and noticed your slouched shoulders and the way you’d looked on the verge of tears when you’d stubbed your toe on the uneven sidewalk, but still.)

He doesn’t know what size shoe you wear – he can’t pick you up those new shoes he thought you’d like, or get you a new pair of those fuzzy, warm socks he noticed were looking a little ragged in your laundry bin.

He doesn’t know what your ideal date is, so he can’t plan one with the knowledge that you’d be as happy as humanly possibly, all smiley and bashful and shy, all because you’re with Keigo himself.

It frustrates him, and he figures it wouldn’t hurt to look into you just a bit more – he’s got access to all kinds of information, security clearances associated with his status as both a hero, an agent of the Hero Commission, and an agent of the Meta Liberation Army making pretty much any piece of information he wants to get his hands on accessible. He’s getting access to your computer and phone, sifting through your search histories, contacts, even your bank accounts and government information.

(How else would he be able to start depositing occasional bits of money into your account, gifts he knows you won’t notice because you never check your transaction histories? You may not know about them, but he does, and it makes him feel good, important when he’s gifting you a hundred dollars here and there, making sure you have a cushion so that you can spoil yourself and indulge in all the things he knows you want to, but you don’t have the funds to do so.)

He’s designating a specific feather to slip into your purse or pocket, attached to your person so that he can track where you’re going, feeling the vibration against your back when you’re talking, when you’re shivering because you’re cold, when you’re standing or sitting or laying or moaning and gasping and shaking –

(He’ll always stiffen up when the feather he’d managed to slip into your jacket starts vibrating with the sound of your cries, his cheeks and neck feeling unbearably hot as he starts to sweat, wings twitching uncontrollably and rushing to the nearest bathroom, clutching the sink and grimacing because god, you’re moaning so damn much, you must be touching yourself and he’s not even there to see it, not able to watch you fall apart – maybe you’re even thinking of him, of how he’d fuck you nice and deep, pushing your knees up to your ears and groaning your name over and over while he fills you full of his cum – He’s in the bathroom for a suspiciously long time, and when he comes back with his pants just slightly askew, Dabi will cock a brow but not make a comment.)

He’s even going so far as to set up cameras in your apartment, having broken in one day when you weren’t home, making sure they’re placed in inanimate objects so you don’t find one and get scared.

(Though, he can’t deny that the image of you running to him in fear, crying and clutching onto him and telling him that someone’s stalking you has a very nice ring to it… Ultimately, though, he knows it’s best for you to not take on the stress and burden of knowing your every move is being watched, recorded, stored onto his phone and computer so that when he can’t sleep at night or is particularly stressed from all the lying and sneaking around, he’ll have something pretty and sweet to look at, something calming and relaxing, something that makes him sigh and his lips quirk up into a small smile as his thumb rubs the technology, imagining it was your cheek.)

It’s a slow slide into his obsessive tendencies, but once his feelings for you have formed in full, Keigo is a lost cause – and once you end up trapped with him, forced to depend on him for everything, this trait will only present itself more strongly, becoming harder and harder to ignore because he won’t bother hiding it anymore.

You’ll be scared and apprehensive every time he arrives with a glass of water right when you were beginning to feel thirsty, but really, you should know better. You’ll be unnerved when he presents a new bottle of shampoo to you right as you start itching to shower, but it’s inevitable.

Keigo knows you better than you know yourself, after all – and he just wants to keep you happy, keep you safe. He's just in love, and doesn’t he deserve someone to love?

Doesn’t he deserve to be happy too, to finally, finally have something all to himself, something that’s his?

Protective

Frankly, though Keigo hides it well, his protectiveness over you is unbearable. He’s a seasoned pro-hero who spends a good amount of time with villains, and as a result he’s more than aware of just how dark of a place the world really is. He has intimate knowledge of just how many horrible people are hiding in plain sight, all the violent and horrific crimes they commit, and just how often they manage to escape unscathed.

And of course, he also knows just how many innocent victims get wrapped up in their schemes, often resulting in injuries and trauma and even death. And while Keigo generally is disapproving of murder, he’s even more staunchly against the concept when it’s your death, when you’re the lifeless body that’s laying on the cold, hard cement, blood pooling around your head and your pretty eyes staring aimlessly above, your fingers cold and your neck bruised and oh god oh god –

The realization that the way he feels for you has wandered into romantic territory is the same moment that he realizes that you could very easily be one of the civilians he was just a hair too slow to save.

He’s helping an older woman crawl out of a pile of rubble left behind from a stand-off with a villain, part of the building having collapsed in on itself, and all of a sudden he sees something sticking out from below a large, cement cylinder – a foot, stained red at the ankle, and immediately he feels sick.

Evacuations aren’t always successful, and oh, look at that – the foot’s complexion is oddly familiar, and he swears he’s seen that nail polish on someone else’s fingers before. Bile actually rises up the back of his throat as he realizes that everything about this unfortunate soul reminds him of you, even down to the hair dotting her leg. It’s a hard pill to swallow as images of you bloody and bruised flash through his mind, each one making his chest tighter than the last.

It leaves his fists clenching and his jaw tight enough to make his teeth hurt, and it’s in that moment that his body almost seems to operate on autopilot – the images of you battered and too injured to be helped are still swirling through his mind as his feet leave the ground, his wings beating faster and faster with every second, his desperation to reach you strong enough to get his heart practically racing out of his chest.

The wind is whistling in his ears as he flies to your apartment, his muscles aching from the exertion, his lip caught between his teeth as he mentally chants that you’re okay, you’re okay, please God you have to be okay.

It’s only once he lands on your apartment balcony and sees you clumsily doing your dishes in the kitchen sink that relief floods his system, his entire body sagging against the railing as he finally lets out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding back.

You’re okay.

You’re alive and breathing, and as his eyes scan every exposed inch of your skin, he can’t find even a speck of blood. A hand comes up to rest over his heart, and Keigo swallows, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing with the weight of the motion.

He spends longer than he’d care to admit on your balcony that evening, those yellow eyes watching like a hawk as you move about in your tiny apartment, mentally assessing each and every movement. You’re pretty like this, he thinks – you’re entirely unaware that you’re being watched, but there’s something about seeing you be so natural and free that’s exhilarating, making his heart pound and his cheeks flush pink because this is what you’re really like when no one’s watching. It makes his chest ache to see it, his gloved fingers reaching out and pressing against the glass of your sliding door, the urge almost unbearable to be with you and hear what he’s sure is you singing along to some horrible song.

He’s idly wondering if you cook all your meals, and that’s why you have so many dishes – would you cook for him? He's a lousy chef and frankly a bit picky about his food, but he’d eat anything you make for him with a bright smile and trembling fingers, eagerly wolfing down the food and being nearly brought to tears because you made this for him.

He’s imagining the way you’d let him hold you at night, sharing a bed with you and your body pressed snugly beside his, an arm draped over your side and your soft breaths tickling the expanse of his chest. It’s a pleasant thought, but all too soon his phone is buzzing and he’s brought out of his reverie, glancing at the time and sucking in a sharp breath because it’s been an hour and a half of him just sitting here, gaping like an idiot at you.

Embarrassment creeps up his spine, but before he jumps off the balcony and heads to the Commission to report back, he spares a final glance over his shoulder at you, and the smallest of smiles sits on his lips, something warm blooming in his chest.

But from that moment onwards, Keigo slowly becomes more and more consumed by the idea of just how truly unprepared you are for any sort of villain encounter. You have a quirk, sure, but it’s minor and not especially useful, and it certainly wouldn’t help if you were to be cornered in some dark alleyway, or if you were to hear your front door’s lock being picked, or if you were to be caught in the crossfire of a villain robbing a bank.

And it’s small things that remind him of these facts – he'll see you trip over seemingly nothing, losing your footing and stumbling for just a moment, and immediately fear is sitting heavy in his gut because god, you’d be dead meat running from a villain. It’s endearing, of course, but it’s scary.

He hears you giggle sheepishly and rub the back of your neck as you admit to your friend over lunch that you’d forgot to lock your door when you left for groceries yesterday, his skin and feathers bristling and a small prick of anger bubbling inside him because are you asking to be the next tragedy covered on the news?

He takes you out for dinner (that he hopes you’ll think of as a date, even if the restaurant is a simple diner that he knows you love) and sees a bandaid on your finger, his voice a touch lower than his previous joking tone as he asks if you’re okay, did you hurt yourself? Your response of how you’d accidentally caught the sharp edge of a razor in the shower makes his entire body tense, both at the idea of you in the shower and at the idea of your blood being drawn, of the way you’d probably hissed and bit your lip, the pain acute. You’ll notice the way he freezes up, this look on his face that you can’t quite describe, but soon he’ll be flashing you that familiar grin, taking a sip of his soda and telling you that unshaved is better, hasn’t anyone ever told you that?

(He likes the way you roll your eyes and pretend that you aren’t embarrassed by his comment – at least, he hopes that’s how you’re feeling, because the comment made him himself a little hot under the collar.)

Everything you do is a reminder to him that you’re weak, and it’s this constant mantra that moves Keigo to take his own measures to ensure your safety. He’ll offer to walk you home from work every day, waving off your concerns by telling you that his patrols end right around that time anyways so it’s no big deal.

(They don’t – they tend to end much earlier, but this way he can fly around for a bit, trail you from the air and keep his eyes trained only on you, all with the luxury of lying when you notice his presence about how his patrol areas happen to line up with the district you work in.)

He’ll tell you that he’s sure your cooking is good, but he knows what place has the absolute best lunches – and would you look at that, it’s not too far from your apartment! Maybe you’d be interested in getting lunch with him sometimes? He knows the owner pretty well because he’s always in there, maybe he could even get the both of you a loyal customer discount.

(He’d only started eating there because a late night of watching you through your apartment windows had led to his stomach growling too much to bear, and he’d strolled into the twenty-four-hour establishment absolutely ravenous for food, still glowing from having watched your sleeping face.)

He’s even making unsolicited, subtle remarks about your own habits designed to get you to change some of your more problematic traits – he’ll tell you that eating breakfast is actually very good for you, he’s heard that people who skip breakfast tend to have bowel problems.

(It’s delivered as a joke and you snort because he’d been a little graphic with a bad pun thrown in there, and as Keigo basks in the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter, he hopes that you’ll remember the sentiment – you need to be eating properly, after all.)

He’s telling you that crime rates have been awfully high in your neighborhood lately – it’s recommended for all civilians to avoid speaking to anyone on the streets – just for safety purposes, of course.

(And because it dramatically reduces the number of men you interact with, something that makes both his protectiveness and possessiveness cool ever so slightly because that means one less man that you could meet and fall for and want and love-)

And why shouldn’t you believe everything that he says? He’s the number two hero, a man who’s saved more lives than you could imagine – how could he not be the authority on safety? Who are you to doubt anything he tells you, any advice he gives you?

And Keigo knows this – which is why he’ll start pushing further and further with time, trying to convince you to drop anything dangerous at all; did you know that more people cut themselves with knives than with all other cutting tools combined? You should really be careful, you know – besides, sometimes recipes are better with whole tomatoes!

(Really, he just wants to avoid seeing a knife in your hands – you’re not trustworthy with something so sharp, even if the sight of you in the kitchen slaving over the stove is strangely adorable, strangely right.)

Did you know that most animal attacks are from dogs? Maybe you shouldn’t consider getting that cute puppy you’d been gushing about – you just never know.

(Really, Keigo’s just worried that you’ll end up spending all your time and attention with said puppy, leaving him with only the most meager scraps that won’t be nearly enough to satisfy him, and while he’s serious about the dog attacks, he’s mostly just selfish. Plus, an animal companion would make slipping through your window late at night almost impossible.)

Did you know that the vast majority of murder victims are women? You should probably take him up on his offer to be your personal chaperone – consider it a favor for a friend, he’d told you.

(Though he’d been gritting his teeth as he said the word ‘friend’, even the feel of it on his tongue making something ugly twist in his gut. The way he feels for you certainly isn’t friendly – it can’t be, not when he’s imagining waking up with you every morning, the way your lips would taste, how you’d look on your knees staring up at him while you gag and choke and suck so hard your cheeks hollow out.)

And once you’ve been kidnapped, this trait is only furthered, his paranoia eating away at him because he knows you’ll be rebellious, that you’ll want to lash out and hurt yourself and hurt him, and just the thought leaves him buzzing with anxiety, stress eating away at him because he absolutely refuses to let you get injured in any way.

You have to stay pristine – his gorgeous, precious partner that he loves, the only woman who’s ever made him feel something so strong. You have to be okay – because if you aren’t, then he isn’t either, and the only thing more dangerous than a powerful, cunning man living a double life is a broken, apathetic man who wants everyone to know just how little life means now that his other half is gone.

Controlling

His controlling tendencies manifest as a result of both his extreme protectiveness, and as a sort of coping mechanism from the lack of control he has over his own life. He does love you – at least, he thinks this is love.

(If it’s not love, then Keigo doesn’t know what the fuck this could possibly be – what else would cause him to be thinking of you at all hours of the day, his body physically aching and yearning to be with you? What else could cause his breathing to hitch and become so uneven when you’re in his presence, his quirk nearly out of his control as his feathers ruffle and flutter and come down around you like some sort of cage?)

He loves you, sure, his obsession festering into something darker, deeper, more unmanageable and impossible to come back from, but there’s a part of him that begins exerting this control over you as a way to satisfy himself.

By dictating your life, it’s almost like he’s dictating his own – like he gets to choose what happens, like he has self-autonomy, like he isn’t just a puppet being used by others. It’s euphoric, cathartic, and this only furthers his dependence on you – not only do you make him feel something warm and gooey and suffocating in his chest, but you also make him feel calmer, more grounded, more whole.

But as lovely as it is for Keigo to finally get a grip on his own mental health, this has rather disastrous effects on you – even before he’s stolen you away, these controlling tendencies are present. Of course, they’re difficult to spot when Keigo is still just the handsome, flirty hero who seems to have a soft spot for little old you. You’re in a metaphorical honeymoon phase at that point, beyond flattered that someone like him has noticed someone like you.

And so, you don’t really notice the way that he tells you to stop hanging out with a particular friend that you keep rambling on about. They’re going through a hard time, you’re sure of it – it’s the only reason they’ve been so snappy and distant lately, and it’s only natural for you to bear your burdens to Keigo, telling him how they were rude to you last weekend, how they’ve been ignoring your calls, how you’re at a loss because what could possibly be happening?

And Keigo will grit his teeth, his smile tight and visibly strained as he clutches onto his coffee cup with white knuckles, eventually telling you wow, that really sucks, some friend. Maybe you should stop hanging out with them – obviously they aren’t as invested in the friendship as you are, sound like they’re not as good of a friend as you are, frankly.

It’s good advice, all things considered, but it’s presented in a way that flatters you, that makes you sound like you’re the reasonable, good friend and they’ve simply dropped the ball. And so, you’ll follow his advice – that friend isn’t contacted again, and Keigo personally sees to it that you’ve blocked them, having gone in and manually done it on your phone while you were fast asleep.

You won’t notice how he makes subtle comments about what you should order when you’re at a restaurant together – he’ll never make comments about your weight, but he’ll prompt you to eat something healthier, something more, something that’ll leave you happy but nourish you as well. The comments are again difficult to spot – when he opens up the menu, he’ll pipe up and tell you that they’ve got that salad you were talking about the other day – you know the one? Yeah, sounds good – do you want to split it? I think we should get some extra chicken on top, too.

(Once the salad arrives, of course, you’ll be eating the majority – Keigo will nibble at it, picking at it and making a bit show of always having his fork packed with the greens – and a lot of the chicken – but you’ll be the one shoveling food into your mouth, feeling full by the time Keigo’s eaten roughly ten bites.)

You won’t notice it much at all, really – which is why it’s such a shock to one day wake up in Keigo’s luxury, king-sized bed, the soft white sheets smelling like fresh laundry and the pretty red, silky pajamas he’d changed you into feeling foreign on your body.

But just like his more needy and clingy tendencies, Keigo’s controlling nature will start to show itself once he’s stolen you away. There’s no point in hiding how he feels now, is there? You’re aware that he’s in love with you (he tells you every fucking day, after all, with a hushed voice that sounds much too vulnerable for you to bear and a barrage of kisses along your jawline and neck), so what’s the point in dialing down some of the more questionable aspects of his infatuation?

He’d kidnapped you out of paranoia, and now that you’re with him constantly, he’s able to really, fully control your actions and the things you’re allowed to do. He’s not too dehumanizing with it, but there’s a lot of limits on things that you normally wouldn’t even think about – you’re allowed to watch TV, but only for an hour a day and only specific channels and programs he’s approved.

(Generally, the cutoff for what he considers ‘appropriate’ for you are things without graphic violence, nothing terribly sad, and nothing that would cause you tension or stress. So, all horror movies are off the table, all dramas, all action films, really only leaving the things he wouldn’t mind watching with you – romances, mostly, and the occasional film with much more erotica than he realized. His face will turn red as the actors moan and whisper hushed I love you’s, his yellow eyes nervously flicking over to you from his spot beside you, his fingers itching to reach out to you, the blanket covering you both suddenly feeling much too hot.)

You’re allowed to eat what you want, but with a few very strict guidelines – you can’t have anything over a certain amount of grams of sugar, nor are you allowed to consume anything that isn’t paired with a vegetable. He’s forcing you to eat protein, and if you don’t eat meat he’ll count out a specific number of nuts you must consume that day, just to make sure you’re getting proper nutrition.

He especially loves if you’ll let him feed the nuts to you, or any food, really – he likes to feel needed and helpful, and to have you looking at him with those pretty eyes, the fork pressed against your lips while you swallow and thank him for the food… It makes Keigo’s breathing get a bit heavy, his mouth watering because god, he wants to use that fork after you, would you think that’s weird?

He’s not taking away any of your basic privileges like dressing yourself or using the restroom alone, but Keigo has a way of making you feel pathetic without even trying to; there’s just something about the way he looks at you, all soft smiles and wide eyes, his palms always clammy and nervous, his touch always hesitant but eager.

He won’t explicitly create a schedule for your daily life under his thumb, but you’ll essentially be in one, anyways. He leaves for work in the mornings, parting from you with a very, very tonguey kiss, and while he’s gone on his patrol all day, you’ll cycle through reading a few of the (pre-approved) books he’d gifted you, practicing your art skills, practicing your musical skills, and staring out the fifteen-story window, the one-way, bulletproof glass not giving you even the option to crack it if you wanted to brave the fall.

You’ll be stagnant, really, something that Keigo doesn’t appreciate at all once he notices it happening, but it doesn’t change the fact that he absolutely can’t relinquish control – you’re his, and even if you’re unhappy, Keigo will be damned if he gives up caring for you and making your decisions for you. That’s love, isn’t it? He knows what’s best for you, so why can’t you see that? Why do you fight him and tell him he’s a monster, a horrible, horrible man?

He just wants to keep you safe and happy and loved, so why are you making it so fucking difficult?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

While Keigo isn’t too terribly possessive as far as yanderes go, he really only has so much self-control. Of course, he doesn’t like seeing other men around you, those already narrow eyes of his growing even sharper and smaller because he does not like this.

But what sets Keigo apart from others is that while he’s enraged, anxiety and anger prickling at his skin and causing goosebumps to litter his entire body, he’s smart. He’s good at reading people, at fully assessing situations and making split seconds analyses, and that’s exactly what he’ll do whenever he sees you in a situation where another man is showing interest.

He’ll examine the man’s face – is he smiling? Laughing? Serious? Frowning?

Smiling and laughing generally means one of two things – either the man hopes to become friends or acquaintances with you, or he’s flirting and he thinks it’s going very well. Keigo can’t decide which option he hates more.

A serious expression or a frown normally means that the man is trying to create a mysterious air – to embody hypermasculinity, to try and lure you in by looking the part of the strong, dominant man who’s only weakness is you. It makes Keigo cringe, his nose scrunching up in a wince as he thinks of how terribly stupid this man must be to think you’d fall for something like that – he obviously doesn’t know you or your intellect, at least not like Keigo does. Nobody knows you like Keigo does – not even yourself.

He’s looking at the man’s body language – if he’s leaning towards you, he probably has less than innocent intentions, either trying to intimidate you or get close to you to fulfill some sick, perverted urge.

(An urge that Keigo knows all too well – the urge to feel you, to touch you, to smell you, to have your skin against his. It’s an urge that he’s had to fight more times than he can count, stopping himself from scooping your into his arms and burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hands roaming every inch of your body because god, you smell good and you’re so fucking pretty and your voice is like heaven to his ears and you feel too damn good pressed against him like this and fuck you drive him absolutely insane.)

If the man has his hands in his pockets, that generally signals to Keigo that he’s not as confident at this as he’d like you to believe, showing the hero that the man is more than aware that you’re wildly out of his league, that really the man should have absolutely no business speaking with you.

Keigo’s noticing the distance between your body and the stranger’s – if it’s more than three feet, he’s able to take a small, minimally relieved sigh because at least the man isn’t likely to try something. But if he’s closer to you, dangerously close to being in your space and making you feel uncomfortable, immediately Keigo’s wings are flapping, the movements harsh and unconscious as his fists tighten and he grits his teeth because he’ll be damned if he lets anyone make you uncomfortable.

And he’s analyzing your body language, too, of course – if you like the interaction, if you’re pleased by the attention, if you’re scared, if you want to leave, even if you want to leave with the stranger himself. And while Keigo wishes he was wrong, the moments where you actually seem to be enjoying the flirting of a stranger make him bristle, a deep scowl settling on his face while insecurity and panic grip his heart because he has to stop this before it's too late – before you let yourself get wooed by another man before Keigo even gets the chance to fully earn your trust and adoration.

Seeing you approached by potential rivals for your love really brings out the worst side of Keigo – it brings out all the skills the Commission drilled into him, those eyes of his dissecting the other man like he’s merely a slab of meat, the blond finding every possible point of weakness in the man’s stature or attitude, just so Keigo can understand the full scope of what he’s competing with. Just so that Keigo can understand exactly how he can be better than this loser – how he can impress you and get you acting all bashful and dismissive of his witty flirting just like you should be.

Jealousy isn’t too pretty on Keigo, and while he won’t just blindly murder any man that steals your attention for even a moment.

(He’d lose his hero status very quickly, no matter how much he sometimes wants to send a feather clean through their neck, slicing their head off and feeling not a smidge of remorse because now he’ll finally stop running his mouth at you when you’ve clearly already been chosen to be Hawks’s woman – the number two’s sweet, important little partner that he absolutely cannot lose).

His patrol had felt incredibly long today – no large villain sightings, with only a few petty muggers making the time pass. Keigo sighs, wings flapping and wind whipping in his ears as he eagerly scans the streets below.

Normally, you’d be walking to the grocery store right around now – he’d noticed you were low on eggs, so it was only a matter of time before you braved the cold autumn air. Suspicion immediately pricks along Keigo’s spine, however, as he slowly flies along the path that you take to the store. You’re no where in sight – he doesn’t see your familiar jacket or notice the way the sunlight glistens off your hair, and immediately something uncomfortable is settling in his gut.

This wasn’t like you – you’d told him once that you prefer this time of day for your shopping because the store is the least crowded, and Keigo knows how you feel about interacting with strangers. And yet, you’re missing – something that makes him immediately pick up his speed, brows knitting together and his lower lip caught between his teeth. Eager eyes scan every sidewalk as he quickly makes his way to your apartment complex, every second that he doesn’t see you only furthering the feeling of dread slowly eating at him.

He’s near the point of whipping out his phone to call you and check the tracker he’d installed into your phone when he lets out an audible sigh of relief, having spotted your familiar form on the sidewalk below. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment at this point – and with a look of disgust, Keigo identifies the reason why.

There’s a man with you.

You’re standing and speaking with him, tucked away at the corner of the sidewalk, and immediately the feeling of panic is replaced by anger, his shoulders tensing up. As he swoops down and lands on the top of the building above you, he cranes his neck to get a better look at this man. Keigo’s never seen him before – you’ve never interacted with him in all the months he’s been watching you, leading him to believe that this man is a stranger.

Keigo taps his foot impatiently, trying to decide if this is good news or bad news. On the one hand, it’s always good news to know that you don’t have many men in your life – Keigo should be the only one, really, the only person, even, not just man.

But it also means that this stranger probably stopped you to strike up a conversation, which can only means two things – either the man is asking an innocent question, or he’s interested in you. Interested in you, as in wanting to date you, to kiss your pretty lips and hear you whisper those three words and bend you in half and make you scream and moan and gush-

Keigo grits his teeth, left eye twitching slightly at the mere thought of this man being brazen enough to approach you like this. And based off the way he keeps steadily stepping closer to you and you keep subtly shifting away from him, Keigo suddenly understands exactly what’s going on.

He hesitates for only a moment, a small pang of doubt registering in the back of his mind (wondering if this is how you look when you’re with Keigo himself, that annoying insecurity revolving around anything romantic and anything with you once again filling him with false worries), before he’s jumping from the rooftop, landing with a small grunt onto the sidewalk a few feet away from the two of you.

Clearing his throat, he walks with a bit more urgency than normal towards you, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning in.

What’re we talking about? Keigo asks, yellow eyes fixed on the man, any semblance of a smile gone from his face. His chest is puffed out ever so slightly, wings spread to make his physical presence as big as possible, to make him as intimidating as possible. Immediately you’re jumping, slightly embarrassed and slightly relieved at Keigo’s sudden presence. He feels you relax slightly against him and tries to ignore the way his throat goes dry and his pupils dilate – he’ll relive the memory of you feeling safe around him later tonight, but now’s not the time.

The man steps back immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking at the hero sheepishly, guilt written all over his face. Keigo scoffs under his breath, examining the man’s face in closer detail. He’s somewhat attractive, and that same nagging voice comes back, idly wondering if you’d prefer brunettes like this man over blondes like Keigo, or if you preferred slightly taller men, because this stranger is easily a few inches taller than the hero. He frows, biting the inside of his cheek and willing the thoughts to go away – at least until he’s sorted this out.

Oh, Hawks, hey man, I didn’t – we’re not talkin’ about anything. Nice to meet you, miss. The man fumbles for his words, before quickly backpedaling and practically running the opposite direction, peeking over his shoulder every once in a while and wincing.

Keigo holds his ground, not moving, keeping those eyes locked on the man’s figure until he’s eventually a good block or two away. Only then does Keigo turn to you, his cheeks a little pink as he flashes you a smile. He’s still got his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and he gives you a small squeeze that he hopes isn’t too forward – he wouldn’t want you to get the idea that he’s after the same thing that stranger had been.

(Though really, isn’t he? He just wants all of you, not only your body – and he can take much better care of you, can’t he? Better than that gangly, sleazy man ever could, better than any other man ever could.)

He’s brought out of his small reverie by you profusely thanking him, telling him that the man had just approached you out of nowhere and you didn’t know how to leave the situation without it potentially escalating.

Keigo only smiles lazily, nodding at you and telling you not to worry, that he’s a pro hero, so it’s kind of my job, you know? Though for my favorite civilian, I don’t mind working overtime.

He winks at you after that, feeling only slightly anxious that you’ll find the action too arrogant, but you only blink owlishly at him, mumbling something about feeling guilty that it’s ‘overtime’. Keigo waves off your concerns, releasing your shoulder and trying not to show loss on his face.

You thank him again, smiling at him in a way that gets his knees very close to buckling, but he just clears his throat and nods, saluting you playfully and letting his wings flap, already a few feet in the air as he tells you to enjoy the rest of your night and to call him if any other creeps show up. You’re still smiling as he flies back over the roof of the building, but you don’t notice how he stops, peeking over the roof to see you make your way in the direction of the grocery store.

A small smile sits on his lips at the sight, smaller and more genuine than the smirk he’d been wearing moments ago.

Knew it, he thinks earnestly, already mentally predicting what you’ll pick up from the store. And as he hovers back into the air, cracking his neck and knuckles, he decides following you there couldn’t hurt – just in case any more men decide to mess with his woman.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Keigo’s obsession with you is overwhelming, terrifying, and pushes him to do a number of things that force his morals to be flung out the window of favor of keeping you safe, happy, his, but there’s still a few things that he can’t push himself to do, even with you in mind. One of these things is to steal you away.

Kidnapping you is not something he wants to do – he may nurse a few beliefs about how you’ll eventually forgive him for being so obsessive and domineering over you, but Keigo isn’t stupid. He knows your image of him will never recover if he presses the chloroform-soaked rag up to your mouth and coos at you while you fall limp and into his arms.

He knows you’ll never truly forgive him if you wake up one morning in his apartment, breakfast in bed waiting beside you while he stares eagerly down at you, apologizing for having to be so extreme but trying desperately to convince you that he had no other choice, that he did it for you, that he did it to keep you safe.

He knows it won’t go over well, and Keigo already feels so unsure of how to properly court you and make you genuinely like him and not just Hawks that he doesn’t want to do something even slightly risky. He already knows that stalking you, breaking into your home at night to restock your refrigerator and lay beside you on your bed is crossing enough boundaries and grounds for you to be seriously afraid of him, but kidnapping you is a line he simply isn’t willing to cross.

At least, that’s how he initially feels – until something drastic happens, something that seriously threatens your safety and Keigo can’t just simply sit back and allow it to happen. And of course, it’s fucking Dabi – Keigo’s stomach drops when he hears you mention something about running into a man on your way over a cozy cup of coffee in a local café, the air warm and smelling of espresso.

He’d picked the café because he knew it wasn’t super busy – as much as his pride swells when civilians notice him and beg him for autographs and photos right in front of you, it also makes him nervous because the last thing he wants is to come off as cocky or arrogant or rude.

(Plus, the thought of making you jealous of his fans – especially the adoring women – gets his heart racing, his face and ears feeling hot because it makes him feel good that you’re being possessive over him, but he really doesn’t want you to worry. He’ll always be yours.)

But now he’s wishing it was full to the brim, voices chattering and making it difficult to hear the way you describe a man with so many piercings and a pretty serious skin condition came up to me, he knew my name! Keigo, why do you think he knew my name? Do you think I should be worried?

He’s stiff, every muscle in his body tense and his grip on the coffee cup in his hand so tight that it shatters, coffee and ceramic shards getting everywhere. He’s still staring at you, though, even as you gasp and stand up, running to grab some napkins and wipe up the still steaming coffee. There’s some on his hand but he doesn’t seem to care – to even notice, really, if the way he’s just staring and not even flinching is any indication.

Your brows furrow as you wipe the drink off of him, chest heaving slightly as you ask him if he’s okay, if it hurts, if he’s even listening to you. Keigo just swallows, still looking at you, before telling you with an unnervingly flat voice that it’s certainly weird, but I wouldn’t worry about it.

You don’t mention it again, instead trying to ignore the heavy atmosphere and the way he’s looking at you, all wide-eyed and not a single bit of emotion on his face. It’s scaring you, to be honest, and you’re quick to give him a small side hug and thank him for meeting you for coffee. Keigo mumbles something back as he watches you walk away, something prickling at the corners of his eyes that almost feel like tears as he imagines how Dabi could’ve possibly learned about you.

He’d been so fucking careful – always making sure to not let his phone ever directly point at your face or your address, never explicitly saying your full name in case he was being bugged, never even breathing any bit of information that the greedy bastard could get his hands on.

And yet, it’d all been for nothing – because now that Dabi knows about you, everything has changed. You’re in danger, because although Keigo believes that Dabi won’t immediately kill you, he can’t simply rely on his gut – you’re in danger. And although he’d promised himself he wouldn’t snatch you away, that he wouldn’t betray your trust and make you hate him, he doesn’t really have a choice now, does he?

And so, with a heavy heart and red, puffy eyes, Keigo slips into your apartment, the sleeping pills he’d mixed into your water sitting on your nightstand leaving you out like a light, even as he fabricates the crime scene. He’s shattering your window to mimic a home invader, tangling up your sheets and leaving dirty prints coming out your front door, your clothes ransacked and your television and computer destroyed.

It has to look real, after all – faking a death is difficult but he’s done it before, and as he soars away across town to his own apartment, with you clutched in his arms and your hair tickling his neck, Keigo can only whisper apologies against the crown of your head, squeezing his eyes closed and hoping that even in your unconscious state, you can feel how terribly, terribly sorry he is.

Of course, even though your kidnapping isn’t the idea situation for you or your captor, Keigo still tries to make the best of it. He doesn’t pretend to think that you’re happy with him – he expects the crying and screaming when you wake up the next morning, his expression carefully neutral as you accuse him of being a villain, a creep, even though it makes his chest ache in a way no injury ever has, his lips feeling numb because god, he can’t breath with how you look at him in disgust and hatred.

It’s horrible – but he grits his teeth and bares it, avoiding the pillows (lush and top-quality, of course, covered in sheets of your favorite color) you’re throwing at him, not saying anything until you’ve had your fill. And really, his explanation once you’d calmed down enough to listen to it isn’t nearly enough – he’s at a loss for words, really, looking at you with such honest eyes that it only makes you cry harder.

He’ll tell you that I need to keep you safe, and I – I’m selfish, so this is the only way. It’s lackluster and it’ll have you despising him, but as the days slowly pass, you’ll find yourself growing less and less enraged at him, instead growing more and more complacent about your new life.

Because really, Keigo absolutely fucking spoils you. He’s certainly not hurting financially, and he won’t bat an eye at buying anything and everything he thinks you could possibly want.

He’s getting takeout every night, ordering all your favorites (without having to ask you, of course, something that’d scared you at first, but there’s something about the way he eyes you as you eat it that makes you pause, his small, almost shy question of do you like it sounding rushed and nervous) and making sure to pick up snacks and goodies on his way home from almost every patrol. He loves to see you smile, and even in the beginning, when you’re still afraid of him and betrayed, the way your lips quirk up ever so slightly into the shadow of a smile when he hands you your favorite snack makes him gulp, something warm and overwhelming and hopeful bubbling up inside him.

He’s buying you pretty necklaces and jewelry that remind him of you, all the pieces startlingly within your tastes, his memory of the jewelry you used to wear so acute and strong that he knows your style even better than you do.

All of the clothing he buys for you (mostly comfortable clothing, lounging shirts and sweatpants and giant blanket ponchos) fits you perfectly, almost seeming to be tailored with the way they fit around your bust, hips, ass, shoulders, and thighs.

(He won’t buy you any formal clothing, however – he’s faked your death, and he can’t exactly take you out for a nice date now, can he? He wouldn’t mind doing a candle-lit dinner in his own apartment, maybe sprinkling a few rose petals over the table and cooking you something that he really, really needs you to like, but he knows you aren’t willing. You’d thrash and refuse, not eating his food and looking at him with those eyes, the ones that are hard and calloused and sting with pain. So, he instead purchases the pretty dresses with low tops and slits up the leg, storing them in his spare closet so that you never see them, so that you don’t feel forced into anything more than you don’t want. Kidnapping is enough – romantic dinners would be amazing, the kind of thing that Keigo thinks about with a small, sad smile on his face as he watches you sleep late at night, but certainly not a thing that could happen. Absolutely not – at least, not any time soon.)

He’s embracing each and ever artistic and creative passion you’ve ever had, buying you unfathomable amounts of supplies and instruments of the highest quality, waiting with baited breath to see if you like them, hoping with his hands clutched into fists at his side that you’ll smile at him, that you’ll look at him in anything other than hate – and perhaps, if he’s lucky enough, you’ll even thank him.

(Just the thought makes him shiver, a blush rising from his chest all the way up his neck because he can’t not immediately imagine the way you’d thank him – perhaps you’d give him a kiss, full of tongue and spit and moans, or maybe you’d even sink to your knees for him, telling him that you appreciate his thoughtfulness, his love, how he works so hard to keep me safe, won’t you let me thank you, Keigo? Please?)

It’s wishful thinking, of course, but Keigo tries to do everything humanly possible to keep you as happy as you can be given the situation. Of course, he’s still controlling, laying down rules that you’ll be too afraid to disobey, because although Keigo is soft with you and treats you like you’re made of glass, you’ve seen the televised fights, the way his knuckles are sometimes bruised after patrols, the way he snaps angrily into his phone when the Commission calls him with yet another assignment. He’s still dictating what you can eat, how much contact you get with the outside world, your limited sources of entertainment, anything and everything. But he tries his absolute hardest to respect you in every other way, if only to perhaps plant the seeds of you one day growing to tolerate him, of you one day even perhaps loving him.

And so, Keigo forces himself to do the hardest thing of all – not physically crowd you. He’s always wanted to be touchy with you, the years of not having anyone to hold or even give platonic physical affection causing him to be touch-starved, and so once you come into the picture?

Well, he’s only a man – he can’t help but imagine the way your hand would feel in his, fingers intertwined and your soft skin pressed against his own rougher hands.

He can’t help but imagine kissing you, feeling how soft and gentle your lips would be against his, how you taste, how you’d make little sighs and whines when he starts kissing you harder, deeper, letting even just the smallest sliver of his desperation for you shine through.

He can’t help but imagine pulling your body against his own, keeping every inch of you flush with him while you watch a movie together, his fingers toying absentmindedly with your hair, deep exhales sounding from behind you each time he leans in to catch a whiff of you.

He can’t not imagine the way you’d get all shy and bashful when the hand that’s been running up and down your sides suddenly dips lower, cupping at your ass while he lowly mumbles your name, telling you that he can’t hold back anymore, angel, can’t I have a taste?

He’s being good – he’s forcing all those urges and fantasies to the side, not putting you in a position where you feel forced into physical contact of any kind, sexual or otherwise. He’s respecting you, prioritizing you, even if it slowly destroys him. Having you right there, stuck with him, permanently bound to his side makes him want to grab onto you and never let go, to latch onto you like some sort of leech and take everything you have to offer and then some. It drives him fucking crazy, but he knows he’ll get nowhere by forcing anything onto you.

And so, he holds his tongue, forcing his hand to not reach out and touch, forcing himself to not say the compliment on the tip of his tongue that’ll likely make you more uncomfortable than flattered. He’s good, and eventually you’ll end up slowly coming to tolerate him. Sure, he’s kidnapped you and sure, you’re still understandably upset at him, but isn’t he right? You’d seen the man that approached you before Keigo stole you away – if he’d attacked you, what would you have done? You’d have hoped and prayed that Hawks would have shown up, that you’d been saved because you were too weak and incapable of doing it yourself.

So maybe he’s right – maybe you do need him, like he tells you late at night when he thinks you’re asleep. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, sounding more and more sure of himself as the night wears on and he repeats aloud that he’s keeping you safe, I’m keeping you safe, I know you don’t understand it now but someday you’ll realize that I only took you to keep you out of harm’s way.

And once you get past that barrier of hatred and animosity, it’s disturbingly easy to let Keigo take full control, to give into him in every possible way.

You’ll stop fighting his diet planning, you’ll gladly thank him for any book he gives you as entertainment, you’ll eagerly listen when he tells you about his patrol and how he encountered so many villains who’d done horrible things. And Keigo will notice this change in your attitude – it’s too early to tell and he’s always been too pessimistic to be hopeful, but you almost seem to be liking him. You’re starting to revert back to the woman he first became obsessed with – all smiles and laughter and snarky comments that left him choking on his drink.

And he can’t believe it – he has to pinch himself, staring at you in shock with a flushed face as you make some comment alluding to him being ‘too handsome for his own good’, the fork in his hand clattering down onto the plate. From there, it’s a steady trajectory up – you’ll start getting even more little knick-knacks, shiny things and expensive things that he leaves in pretty, bow-wrapped boxes for you, a card written in his best handwriting that says something along the lines of for my angel.

It’s cheesy and makes you laugh a bit, but Keigo keeps doing because god, please laugh like that again, say his name while you do it and maybe even reach out to touch his shoulder…

He jumps at the opportunity to further your changing opinion of him, determined to make you like him, determined to let him love you like he knows he can – like he’ll do anything to prove to you.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, getting Keigo upset with you is kind of difficult. He views you as his own personal slice of heaven, the only thing that he truly has. You’re the only thing that belongs to Keigo Takami, not Hawks, not the Commission, only him, and because of that he tends to idolize you.

You’re his first real romantic partner, his first real romantic experience, and the combination of that plus his intense, pitifully strong desire to please you makes it hard for him to stay angry at you for any significant period of time. And so, while he’s far from the ideal captor (too clingy, too controlling, too awed when he looks at you), Keigo will avoid punishing you at all costs.

He just doesn’t see the point – he doesn’t want you to hate him any more than you already do, and the thought of purposefully hurting you makes him feel physically ill. He hates seeing you in pain – it’s part of what drove him to steal you away, after all, the terror he felt at knowingly putting you in harm’s way. He’s protective and frankly anal about your health, and so to purposefully bruise your pretty skin or make you cry makes him angry enough to want to hit something, angry enough to literally writhe in his own rage.

And so, Keigo swears off any sort of physical altercations with you – he’s just too strong and you’re just too weak, and it would break him to know that he was the source of your pain and misery.

(He knows he is, already, but he can’t be the source of it physically, too, otherwise he might just shatter, feeling entirely numb and carrying out his missions like a robot, utterly unaffected by the world because he hurt you, and can he even call himself a decent hero, a decent man after that?)

However, while causing you physical harm is off the table, Keigo is realistic enough about your situation to know that punishing you entirely is something he can’t avoid. You will act out, he’s sure of it – he’d be concerned if you didn’t, really, and so he’s expecting you to lash out at him and try to hurt him. If he were you, he’d do it too.

But as much as he expects this behavior and wouldn’t fault you for it, Keigo knows that if he wants to make any progress, if he wants to give you even a chance at eventually growing complacent (it’s a selfish desire, really, but it’s the only route he can see to where you’ll be even remotely happy, or at least not fighting tooth and nail at all costs), he has to establish repercussions for when you’re throwing tantrums or acting poorly.

It feels condescending and Keigo hates it, but he decides that where physical punishments fail, he must rely on emotional ones. It’s manipulative and it makes Keigo feel dirty, disgusting, like a poor excuse for your so-called-protector, but it’s his only choice. He has to get you into shape, both for your sake and his. It’s the only choice, he swears.

You really hadn’t meant to stumble upon something you weren’t supposed to find, really. As a general rule, you don’t snoop through Keigo’s things – he’s a clean freak, first of all, the apartment he keeps you in minimalistic with everything in its correct spot. It’s classy and pretty, sure, but it’s boring, and can you really be blamed for wanting to explore after a few weeks cooped up in this penthouse?

Certainly not – which is how you find yourself tiptoeing into Keigo’s bedroom – he’d brought up the idea of sharing a bed multiple times only to be outright refused by you, and so he kept his things in this separate room. And it wasn’t explicitly off-limits, your captor never actually telling you that you couldn’t venture in. And so here you are, opening up the tall, wooden cabinet in the corner of the room and immediately sucking in a sharp breath at what you find.

You’d known Keigo had stalked you, the confession slipping from his lips early on into your captivity and the evidence difficult to deny.

(How else could he have known all your preferences before you ever voice them, knowing the way you like your morning drink, the products you use in the shower, hell, even the way you sleep – getting the pillows you like, pajamas similar to your own, even the type of sheet you prefer.)

You’d known, sure, but this – this is something else entirely. The cabinet’s housing a variety of items that send a chill down your spine because they’re yours.

An old bottle of perfume sits on the corner, the brand name smudged off from wear, and you bite your lip as you notice it’s still got just a bit left, though not nearly the amount you remember when it’d gone missing a few months ago. Your nose scrunches at the thought of him using your perfume, and bile rises in the back of your throat as you start imagining exactly how it’d been used, for what purpose and how often for that much to be gone.

There’s a few old lip balms sitting there, organized by flavor – cherry at the right, then melon, then mint, then peach and coconut. You don’t bother looking at them closely, too nervous to find signs of usage from someone other than you. (Which is good: the mint flavored Chapstick’s missing a chunk, with what looks like teeth marks sunken into the material.)

There’s an old hairbrush you thought you’d left at a friend’s place, still a few tufts of hair left between the bristles, though something seems to be crusted against the handle, and you wince at the thought of what that could possibly be. You’re scared, really, your heart screaming at you to stop searching, begging you to not look deeper because you don’t want to know what else he’s stolen from you, but your mind urges you to keep going, some sort of sick urge to know exactly what he’s taken, why he’s taken it.

(Though, you think you already know – the way he leans in close to smell you when he thinks he’s being subtle is telling, as is the way he has you sort out your used period products into a separate waste container, telling you that it's because the pads he gives you are compostable. You’ve seen the way the bags linger, though, staying in his bathroom, blood sometimes sitting under his nails when he emerges, eyes dilated and licking his lips at you.)

But as soon as you spot the photographs, you crumble.

Of course you’d known he was stalking you, following your every move and watching you at your most vulnerable, but somehow this is worse – there’s dozens of them, stacked neatly in piles that you can’t even begin to understand. Leafing through them with shaking fingers, they only seem to get worse and worse, images of you laying on your couch, cooking, doing your makeup, changing into your bathrobe, sleeping, and oh god, there’s even one of you on your bed, legs spread and fingers thrusting and rubbing and oh god you’re going to be sick-

The photographs fall from your fingertips as you shakily take a few steps back, the sound of the front door opening and Keigo’s call of I’m home making panic swim in your veins. He’s quick to come find you, asking you in a voice that’s edging on concerned where you are, but when he steps into his bedroom and spots you against the far wall, hands covering your mouth and the wooden door open and askew, Keigo’s clenching his teeth, jaw working.

Oh, is all he has to say, and it snaps you out of your horror.

Oh? That’s it? That’s fucking it, Keigo? What – what is this? You’re sick, a sick freak! Why do you have my stuff? What’s wrong with you? You’re yelling, pushing yourself further against the wall, and he can only frown, irritation and worry eating away at him because god, hearing you so upset is physically hurting him but there’s nothing he can do.

You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s, uh… He trails off, mind racing and panicking as he tries to think of what to say, but you don’t let the silence sit for long.

There’s something wrong with you, you’re a fucking monster! You think you’re a hero? Stalking some poor civilian, stealing her shit, photographing her while she’s sleeping? You’re disgusting, a horrible, twisted, sick creep! Stay away from me!

You’re crawling backwards away from him as he comes towards you, his hands in front of him as a sign of peace. You’re crying, he can see, and it only makes his chest ache more, shame and self-loathing away at him because you’re right – he’s sick in the head, he knows it, but he can’t help it.

I know, I know, calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t stop crying, angel –

It's the wrong thing to say and he immediately knows it, because you give him a glare that makes something sharp dig into his heart, so much so that he physically clutches at his chest, wincing and averting his eyes from yours.

I hate you, Keigo, you whisper, and it makes something ugly come from his throat, a mix between a gasp and a whimper. I hate you I hate you I hate you.

He’s frozen for a moment, before swallowing, nodding his head and blinking the tears out of his eyes. I know, he starts, before turning on his heel and walking towards the doorway to the bedroom. I know you hate me, but you’re stuck with me.

And with that he walks to the front door, slamming it behind him and leaving the apartment empty. You stay curled up on the ground for a few minutes, still crying and hiccupping, the influx of emotion making your head ache. You’d been here for weeks now, and you thought you’d moved on from these crying episodes, from these emotional outbursts, but something about the photos had opened the floodgates.

After another ten minutes, you shakily get up, still rubbing at your eyes and avoiding looking at the wooden cabinet. You all but sprint to your own bed – the bed he gave you, at least – and curl up on top of it, letting your eyes shut and exhaustion fall over you. It’s not until you wake a few hours later that you notice Keigo still hasn’t returned home yet.

That was odd – he’s not on shift, and it was the middle of the night by now. Where was he? Shaking your head, flashes of the photographs race through your head, forcing you to stop thinking of Keigo. The night is quiet as you make yourself something small to eat – a piece of bread and a small amount of the low-fat butter Keigo eats, the apartment still eerily quiet.

You fall into a restless slumber soon after, your dreams filled with the sensation of something – someone – watching over your sleeping form.

When you awake, there’s still no sign of him – everything’s quiet and empty, and you bite your lip, equal parts relieved that he’s nowhere in sight but also slightly concerned. The feeling looms over you as the day slips away, his presence still gone. It’s not until two days later that Keigo finally returns home, and by that point the paranoia at his absence leaves you perking up when you hear the faint jingling of keys.

You’re immediately on your feet, practically tripping as you run to the front door, eager for him to return, eager to not be all alone and scared – something you’d realized about a day ago. You’d actually been afraid of his absence. Perhaps it was survival, wanting to make sure you had enough food and someone with the locks to all the keys that’d be able to let you out, or perhaps it was that you needed him. Maybe you needed some human contact, the total silence and your inability to contact anyone driving you stir crazy.

Regardless, you wait with eager anticipation as Keigo opens the door, those yellow eyes immediately catching yours, his expression carefully neutral though you can see something behind the practiced apathy. It’s relief, you think, and something else – something more desperate, something more vulnerable, something that makes you launch yourself into his arms, nearly knocking the wind out of him as he stares wildly down at you, shock written all across his face.

He’d expected that you’d be relieved that he came home, happy to have your source of food and care back, but not this excited – he swallows, frantically trying to not focus on the way your body is pressing against his and how he can feel all of you, instead letting his arms hesitantly wrap around you, not wanting to scare you.

You’re saying his name, he realizes, and he furrows his brows, closing his eyes and letting the sound ring through his ears. It’s wrong to be enjoying your clearly distraught state and he knows it, but he can’t help it – you’ve never initiated physical contact like this before, and is it really such a crime to be enjoying it?

I’m here, angel, ‘m here, he tells you, petting a hand over your hair and letting you squeeze him tighter. Please never leave me again, Keigo, please!

You’re begging him, he realizes, and it forces him to hug you just a bit tighter, his wings coming down to join the hug to. Closing his eyes again, Keigo lets out a slow, deep sigh, relishing in the way you’re clinging to him for comfort, begging him to never leave you for a moment.

And as he whispers a small I’m yours, I’ll never leave you again, you can only nod against his chest, disgusted with yourself for this display of your dependence on him. Because really, when had you become so fond of your captor? The photographs are still on the ground in his bedroom, all the things he's stolen from you sitting in that damned cabinet, but you find yourself not caring.

As you breathe in the now familiar smell of his cologne, hear his heart pounding away in his chest, you find that you don’t care about anything, really – because perhaps what he’s been saying along is really true.

Maybe you are in need of protection, needing him to provide for you. Because you’d been left alone for three days, and what do you have to show for it? Panic, loneliness, fear that he’d left you behind? Maybe you really are just as weak as he makes you out to be – and as you slowly pull back from the hug, you find yourself ever so briefly being thankful for him.

Thankful that you’ve finally, finally found where you belong: by Keigo’s side, letting him fawn over you and keep you locked up like some prized pet.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Keigo is less dangerous and more paranoid. He has so many alter egos and warring identities that once you come along, encouraging him to just be Keigo around you rather than Pro Hero Hawks or PLF Hawks, he can’t let you slip away.

There’s something about you that doesn’t leave his mind – perhaps it’s your mannerisms, your looks, the way you speak, how you walk and how you smell and how you think. Maybe it’s some twisted form of fate, or some long-repressed part of his quirk that’s beginning him to finally find a companion, a mate, someone to share himself with.

Regardless, once Keigo’s obsession forms, he’s a lost cause – he’s thinking of you constantly, unable to stop his mind from wandering into idle thoughts of what you’re doing or how you’re feeling. He finds himself unconsciously trailing behind you, watching over you from above with those sharp eyes of his narrowed in on your form, studying and memorizing the curves of your body underneath your clothing, the way you walk ingrained into him so deeply that when he closes his eyes all he sees is you.

His paranoia grows as his obsession does, too, the worrying realization that you’re weak making it difficult for him to ever part from you, anxiety swimming in his gut because what if you get hurt and he isn’t there to help you? What if you get into trouble and he isn’t there to swoop and be your savior?

(Some sick, twisted part of him almost wishes you would run into trouble, just so he could put himself into the position of being your knight in shining armor, of making you swoon for him, feeling the way you’d be so very grateful and want to make it up to him in any way you could. He forces the thought down, disgusted with himself for fantasizing about you being in danger, but during long nights where he tosses and turns in his too-empty and too-cold bed, the thought of you looking at him in such awe and gratitude makes something warm, wet, and shameful throb to life between his legs.)

He does eventually kidnap you, yes, but as time passes you’ll find that slowly you’ll stop caring about how he keeps you trapped by his side, how he controls your every day life, how he forces you into all sorts of loungey, comfortable clothing that always smells like him. Because really, Keigo is awfully pathetic – he thinks he’s good at hiding just how badly you affect him, but you can see the way he perks up when you enter a room, looking so hopefully and lovesick as he gazes at you that it almost hurts.

You’ll be able to tell how his heart is racing in his chest when you get close to him, his breath turning ragged and his palms so sweaty that when he wipes them on his pants they leave wet marks. It’s pathetic, sad, cute, and as time passes with Keigo as the only person in your life, slowly you’ll begin wondering if being loved by him isn’t bad.

Is what Keigo can give you – protection, adoration, reliability, devotion – really so bad? Is it so bad to just be loved?

And Keigo will be there waiting for you once you finally come around, his hands trembling as he hugs you, burying his face into your neck and you swear you feel something wet against your skin, his tears tickling you as his shoulders shake. He just loves you, and how cruel can you be to reject him, to leave him without the only person he’s ever cared for?

How could you be such a monster?

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere hawks #yandere keigo takami #hawks x reader #_lee's profiles #_keigo takami #_bnha

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