#*gasp* Starlit is actually writing a little bit again!?

[starlitangels]

One Last Show?

... More Rockstar AU. In the same universe as "Last Night of Tour" but now with the other band ;-) Please welcome Milo and the Wolves to the stage! 5.5k words this was not meant to be this long omg

@palilious and @zozo-01... figured you two would like to be informed that I finished this one ;-)

—

Sweetheart

Milo shoved open the hotel room door and stormed inside. Me hot on his heels. “I am not your parents, Mr. Greer. You hired me for your safety, remember?” I snapped the second the door closed.

Milo scoffed. “And you’re good at what you do—but I’m gettin’ a little sick-a you breathin’ down my neck day in and day out!” His retort fired off his tongue fast, like he knew what I was going to say.

“Look. I’m not here to judge you, okay? If you wanna go out and party, then go out and party. If you’re sick of the rest of the band and want to sneak out to party without them—fine. But you take me with you. I’m not gonna judge you for sneaking out. I’m just here to make sure you’re protected. That’s why I’m the one carrying the gun. So if you’re sneaking out, then dammit I better be right by your side next time. I don’t care about the why or whatever. I’m just trying to do my job. And you make it pretty damn difficult when you go behind even my back, understand?” As I spoke, I pushed myself into his personal space and glared him right in the eye. But didn’t touch. Never touch unless it was absolutely necessary.

Milo bared his teeth at me and looked like he was literally going to pounce down my throat. Insufferable spoiled rockstar who always got whatever he wanted and—

He slouched. “Fine, sweetheart,” he bit out with a pissed off snap in his voice. “Next time, you’re comin’ with.”

I leaned a little closer. “Good.” With that, I whipped around and stomped back to the door, yanking it open. “Goodnight, Mr. Greer.”

He waved me off dismissively. I pulled it shut firmly behind me, but didn’t slam it.

Out in the empty hallway, identical to every other hallway, I closed my eyes for a moment. Trying to calm myself down. I rubbed my eyes and went to my hotel room on the other side of the wall from Milo’s.

“You look frustrated,” my roommate, the band’s manager and the lead guitarist’s partner, remarked. “You find him?”

I inhaled deeply through my nose and sighed out of it. “I found him.”

They smirked. “Did you have to ping the GPS in his phone with your hacker whiz skills?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. Thankfully.”

“Do I want to know where he was?”

I blinked several times. “No.” I turned toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower and go to bed. I had to chase that moron halfway across Kennedy and I'm exhausted. Next thing I know I’m going to be hunting him down while he’s getting frisky with a cowgirl or cowboy or someone in Mont Blanc. And if I do, I might actually lose my mind.”

Asher's partner crossed their legs on their bed when I paused in the bathroom doorway. "You ever wonder if he's acting out like this to get your attention?"

I stared at them for a moment. "Wh... why the hell would he do that?"

They shrugged. "I don't know. Because you're hot?" they suggested. I scoffed. "I'm serious! You're attractive and I've seen him sneaking glances at you when you're not looking and he thinks no one else is!" They sat forward on their bed.

"That's not why he's sneaking out. He does this at least once a tour because he gets sick of the band."

"And he always does it in Kennedy."

I shook my head. "Nope. Last time we were in Borden. The time before we were in Mont Blanc. He's only done it in Kennedy once before."

"You've paid that much attention?"

"Had to. It's my job," I said. I ducked into the bathroom. "See ya in a bit."

"Or not! I might spend the night in Asher's room."

"Okay." I shut the bathroom door behind me and yanked off my jacket to reveal my gun holster. After unbuckling that, I stripped everything else off and got in the shower.

—

Baaabe

I knocked on Asher's door with the same knock we always used to signal one of us was there. A pattern Asher had come up with that had taken me about seven tries to actually get right.

Barely three seconds later, the door opened. "Baaabe!" Asher whispered, beaming broadly and ushering me into his room without a moment's hesitation. I fell immediately into his arms and let him kick the door closed as he tucked me into his arms.

We took whatever time we could while on tour to be alone together. It was rare. Most of the time, at least one member of the band or crew was within at least earshot. If not direct line of sight. Most nights everyone slept on the tour bus as it drove to the next city. Not the most comfortable of beds or the best of sleep. Where Milo found the energy to kept engaging the audiences at every performance, I still had no clue. I wasn't the one on stage every night and tours left me absolutely wiped. How the band did it... I didn't know.

Well, except Ash. I knew where he found the energy. He'd been a coffee addict since before the band became famous enough to do tours. According to David—who had known Asher since they were pretty much born—Asher had been stuck on coffee since he was sixteen.

"Did they find Milo?" Asher asked as he tugged me toward his bed. It was a rare night on tour when we got to be alone in a hotel, and we were going to make the most of it.

"Of course they did. Milo could disappear to the bottom of the Bermuda Triangle and they'd still be able to drag his short ass back."

Asher's muscles relaxed under my fingers. "Thank God," he breathed. "Now we get to have fun without the anxiety of that looming over our heads."

I snorted. "As if you were ever actually worried." I tilted up onto my tiptoes—Asher was so tall—and puckered my lips just a little.

He bent down immediately and met them in a kiss, one hand cradling where the back of my head met my neck. Quickly the kiss turned hot and heavy, Asher digging his fingers into my body to keep me close. I felt him bump his legs against the bed.

Before he could react, I pushed him down onto it.

"Whoa—whoa!" He hit the mattress, shaggy warm black curls splaying out over the white duvet with his head thrown back in a smile. "Mmm. Miss me, babe?" he teased.

"What are you talking about? I see you every day."

A lazy, playful smirk bloomed on Asher's stupidly handsome face, white teeth stark and glittering against his bronze skin. "Well sure. But not alone. Not—" He bucked up at the hips and caught mine, dragging me down onto the bed on top of him. "Not private." He kissed me. Sloppy and heavy. "Not like this—with no chance of David or Milo turning the corner and finding us. For the first time in weeks, it's just you and me. All alone. No where to run. Nowhere to hide. No one trying to find us." He pulled back enough to wink. I snickered—

And planted a hand on his chest, pushing him down into the bed and away from me. "Are you gonna behave, Talbot? Or am I going to make you behave?"

A wild gleam flickered to life in his eyes. I felt his breathing speed up under my fingers. "I don't know, babe," he said breathlessly. "I might be feeling a little naughty."

I raised a brow. "We'll see how long that lasts."

I trailed my hand on his chest down his torso, lifting all but one finger to trace the line between his abdomen muscles. His eyes rolled back and his eyelids fluttered.

I paused with my fingertip low on his torso, just above the waistband of his pajama trousers slung low on his hips. "May I slide these off?"

Asher nodded. Fervently.

I didn't move. "Both?"

Another nod.

My other hand rested on his hips. "Use your words, Asher."

"Yes—God—please, babe."

I smirked and hooked all my fingers around the waistband of his pajamas and underwear. "Ready for a long night?"

"I've been dreaming of it," Asher said.

—

Angel

"I miss Tank," Asher remarked, leaning back on the folding chair he'd dragged onto the stage while we were all prepping for tonight's concert.

"We all do," David said softly, setting a hand on my mid-back to edge around me from behind with a case for part of his drum-set in his other hand. "But they made their choice to leave the band behind and we're going to respect that."

"Well duh," Asher retorted. "But, like, remember their energy? I miss the chaos."

"I don't," his partner—the band's manager—muttered. "Do you know how many fires of theirs I had to put out? I love them but they're a troublemaker."

"Besides," Milo threw in, a cord for something wrapped around his arm, "I thought you liked bein' lead guitar now."

Asher opened his mouth, thought for a moment, then closed it. Milo burst out laughing.

I drifted over to where David was setting up his drum set and sat on his usual stool. "Nervous for tonight?"

He glanced up at me, spinning something into place. "Not particularly. All things considered, I have the easy part."

I scoffed. "You do not."

"I keep the rhythm. It's not like I have notes to worry about."

"You have the hard job. You're the foundation of the whole song. Keeping the rhythm can be hard—and also your instrument has more parts than all the others. Except maybe the keyboard. And you have to remember which drum and which symbol to hit when. I think that's a lot to keep track of."

David almost cracked a smile. "Well, one of us is a musician, and one isn't. I think one of us is more qualified to speak on the difficulty of my part in the band than the other."

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe. But you have a habit of undercutting for the sake of humility and it's boring." I spun around on his swivel stool while he rolled his eyes and pulled one of his snare drums out of its case.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Curious—since I rarely got notifications right before a concert even as the PR manager—I pulled it out.

Tank: How was the Kennedy show last night?

I smiled. "Hey! Speak of the devil," I said.

David looked up from where he was setting up the snare's stand. "Tank?"

I nodded. "Asking how last night's show went in Kennedy." I was already texting them back.

Me: It went really well! There were very few technical issues (apart from Milo's mic having a funky connection during testing but we got that fixed) and I thought it was a great success. Got a lot of pictures for promo stuff.

David nudged me off of his stool and sat on it himself so he could put a cymbal stand together. I just stood there, watching the bubble of Tank's reply appear with the dots that showed they were typing.

Tank: Sounds great! You should check out the replay of the Dahlia concert of House of Solaire that they did last night. Right after intermission ;-)

Me: Am I going to find shenanigans?

Tank: Mild shenanigans maybe. Nothing illegal. Nothing certain members of MatW didn't already agree to.

They sent a quick follow up text with a YouTube link to The House of Solaire's verified YouTube channel. A specific video on said channel.

I paged through it quickly. Someone had marked "chapters" in the video of each individual song.

Until I found one that was most definitely not a House of Solaire song.

Scrunching my eyebrows, I put a Bluetooth headphone in and started the video from there.

My jaw dropped.

I disconnected my headphone and sat in David's lap, starting the song over. He made a grunt of protest before he realized what I was doing, and watched House of Solaire perform "Tougher than You"—with Tank. On stage.

A wistful, nostalgic look crossed the tilt of David's eyebrows and angle of his mouth before quickly vanishing. "Some things don't change," he muttered, lifting me off his lap to go back to work.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He scratched the back of his head. "We made a fairly decent amount of money in this band before Tank took their hiatus—or retired. Whichever. But in all that time, I've only ever seen them play that one guitar. They could have bought a new one. A nicer one. A better one. They never did. They treated it like their baby. Not surprised they still take meticulous care about it."

I smiled as I went back to the text thread. "Maybe they'll return to performing, one day."

David shrugged. "Maybe."

I texted Tank back.

Me: OMG! So good to see you on stage again! Definitely haven't lost your touch. 100/10 would recommend. Vincent did the rest of the vocals justice, I can give him that. We miss you <3

Tank: I miss you all too. But that's what dinner and the club is for when you all return to Dahlia. You are Going to meet up with me and No One is allowed to protest.

Me: Aye-aye, Captain!

They replied with a single emoji—flipping me off—and I threw back my head and laughed.

Milo wandered over with his gold mic stand in one hand. "Did I hear 'Tougher Than You' over 'ere?" he asked.

I switched back over to YouTube and showed him, Asher and Christian drifting closer over the course of the song.

Asher looked sad. "That's the sound I miss. I can never replicate it."

"You do a good job!" Asher's partner reassured him.

"It's not the same as when they do it," he mumbled, drifting off as the song ended and I paused the YouTube video again.

Me: I showed the rest of the band. Milo was smiling. Asher got kinda sad. Christian didn't react and David seemed a little nostalgic.

Tank: Wow. The big guy reacting visibly? I might pass out of shock XD

Me: We all miss you a lot

Tank: I know. But I'll see all of you soon Tank: Speaking of... what's the MatW tour schedule again? Have a screenshot you can send me?

Me: Of course. Let me dig it up. One sec

—

Tank

"So... who all knows about this?" Sam asked as we took our seats in the stadium. He hadn't been back to his hometown here in Mont Blanc in years—The House of Solaire tours always skipped it, opting instead for Atlanta due to some of Sam's bad memories in Mont Blanc—and seemed a little fidgety. Looking around like he might see people he knew.

In a leather jacket, a graphic T-shirt, jeans, and boots with his sleeve tattoos hidden and his distinct black piercings removed, no one in this crowd recognized him. Despite the fact that Milo and the Wolves and The House of Solaire shared a massive portion of fans.

Then again, this crowd had seen me perform on this very stage a few years ago, and none of them seemed to realize who I was either. One of Sam's flannels hiding one of the tank tops I used to perform in and a baseball cap on my head, I didn't even merit a double-take.

"The PR manager, the manager-manager, the security team, and Milo," I replied, settling into my seat. "That's it."

Sam looked around. "We're on the front row, darlin'. Dontcha think Ash and David will recognize you?"

I scoffed. "David won't be able to see me past the stage lights. He's too far back to make out anything in the crowd. Ash plays on the other side of the stage and won't be looking down here.

"If you say so."

The wait for the concert to start always seemed so much longer on this side of the stage. Backstage, I knew Asher's partner was running around frantically making sure everything was ready. Milo was pacing in the dressing room, wringing his gold-painted mic between his hands in order to not mess up his hair. David's partner, the PR manager, would be sitting in David's lap, letting him hold them tight enough to crack ribs if he squeezed just a little harder. Asher would have his head down on the makeup station, practically biting into his own arm to keep from clenching his jaw.

All that was missing was me sprawled out on the couch of the dressing room, spinning one of David's drumsticks between my fingers and needling them all to get them to chill as my own way of coping with nerves.

The band didn't get stage fright, but they were always anxious for everything to go well. Every show.

A playlist of old rock hits and a few new ones was filling the stadium as a crowd of fans filtered in. I kept the brim of my hat low just in case, and Sam looked stubbornly straight ahead. A few stage hands were putting the finishing touches on the setup. A few of them finishing the final soundcheck. The base drum of David's set rippled as it was struck, making the band logo flash in the stage lights.

Then the stage lights turned off and the stage was left empty, set up for each person. Any second now, tucked into the backstage clutter of equipment, the band's PR manager was setting one last thing up, hidden from the others. Aided and abetted by the band's main bodyguard and main manager.

"Waitin' feels long on this end," Sam remarked. "Nothin' to prep. No nerves to work through."

"Yup," I agreed.

"This what it's like every time you fly out to a show on the weekends with Vincent's partner?"

"Yup."

Sam swore under his breath. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "It's always worth it to watch my man perform." I leant close and pecked a quick kiss to his neck so I wouldn't bonk him with the brim of my hat.

We only exchanged a few words for the rest of the waiting time.

Until I snickered.

"What is it, darlin'?"

"Hear that?" I nodded toward the speakers in the ceiling playing the rock music.

"Yeah. 'Through the Fire and Flames.' Dragonforce, right?"

I smirked. "I begged David to let me put this on the playlist when we were first setting it up. Everyone else thought it was a little too much. I'm surprised they left it in the lineup after I backed out."

Sam gave me a look. "They care about you more than you think," he said.

The house lights faded out. The crowd's chattering went silent and still.

"Hello, and welcome!" a prerecorded announcement from a DJ friend back in Dahlia boomed over the speakers. We used to get a new one from him every year so it always sounded just a little bit different. "Everyone give it up for Milo and the Wolves!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and screams and whistles and clapping. Sam dared a glance around at the crowd, slightly curious.

My friends—who had been my only family for so long—ran out onto the stage, taking their positions.

Milo's eyes found mine immediately and he winked before waving at the crowd. "Good evening, Mont Blanc!" he called into his gold-painted microphone. "How's everybody doin' tonight?"

Sam passed me a pair of earplugs as the cheering grew even louder. We both put some in.

"A'right, a'right. Not bad," Milo said, exaggerating his East Coast accent a little. "Who's ready for a great lineup for tonight?"

More screams.

Milo nodded, pacing back and forth. "Good. As most of you know, we're on our 'Winter Solstice' album tour. But we got a few of our more popular hits sprinkled in too. I think you're all gonna have a great time tonight. Should we get started?"

The roar swelled.

Milo sucked the back of his teeth and sighed, pacing back toward Asher. "I dunno, Ash. I don't think they're ready. What do you think?"

Ash leaned close to his own mic. "I don't think they are." He chuckled. "What do you think, Mont Blanc? Are you ready to get started?!"

The cheers and screams were so loud it hurt even with the earplugs in.

This was the crowd I remembered. The House of Solaire crowds were loud and rowdy, but they were a lot of alternative rock fans. This was the true rock-and-roll crowd I loved.

"A'right. I think they're ready, Ash. Shall we?"

"Let's do this!"

Milo glanced back at David, but said nothing.

The same way Sam did, David knocked his sticks together to signal to the rest of the band the rhythm before slamming them down on his drums at the same moment Asher opened on a power chord.

Milo and the Wolves didn't believe in gentle openings. A stylistic choice leftover from when I was writing the instrumentation.

I smiled.

I knew every song. This was their second album without me, but they always sent me the album early. I could play along to every single recording by the third week, usually.

Their fifth song in, they played one of the popular ones from an old album. One I'd written.

Fighter's Spirit

Sam held my hand through most of the concert but let go of my hand so I could pretend his wrist and arm were my guitar's neck to play along out of sheer habit and muscle memory. He didn't seem to mind it so much.

"Baby, you know I got a fighter's spirit— "Can't give up, won't give in— "Know it's bad but ya gotta hear it—"

I'd written it based on something Milo's mom had said to me once. She and David's dad had been better parental figures to me than my own. Marie had once looked me dead in the face and told me I carried the spirit of a fighter lodged in my throat, barely bitten back by my teeth. Gabe had joked when he overheard that I was a wolf in human form, just waiting to bite someone.

And the name of the band had been born.

During a brief interlude so Milo could take a drink of water and work the crowd, Sam turned to me.

"You miss this, don't you." It was phrased like a question, but his voice made it a statement.

I blinked. My eyes were stinging a little. I hadn't blinked in several minutes, it felt like. "I... to an extent." I swallowed. There was a hollow feeling in my chest. One that the cheering around me made yawn wider—though the cheering used to fill it. Because it wasn't for me this time?

Sam squeezed my hand. "You're allowed to miss it, even if you don't want to go back to it," he remarked.

I didn't reply. I did miss this. Severely. But did I not want to go back?

Jury was still out on that.

A heavy bass line from Christian opening the next song after Milo's brief break to take a drink cued me on which song they were starting next.

Asher had written it, but back when I was still in the band and he played the bass instead of lead guitar.

I sang my harmonies and fingered the chords on Sam's arm while he smiled. As if I didn't catch him mimicking David's movements. We were both musicians and we felt our instruments in our souls.

A few more songs passed, Milo introduced the band to uproarious applause, and before I knew it, Intermission had arrived. The band ran off the stage to go dry off the sweat and change out of T-shirts and into dry tank tops. Where the crowd would certainly go wild at the sight of David's arms.

David felt like a brother to me and I'd never been attracted to him particularly but damn his arms were something else.

Of the band, I'd always been the only one to spend the whole concert in tank tops.

People filed out of the stadium for a break.

Sam turned to me. "You can go back, you know," he said softly. "You know these guys would take you back in a heartbeat."

I sucked in a deep breath and sighed. "I know."

"You wanna go back?"

"Yes and no. After Quinn and Nomadic... I just... you know what they tried to do to me. My image and reputation. Backing out of public life seemed the best idea at the time. And Asher's been a great lead guitarist."

Sam made a face. "You know we listen to y'all's albums on the tour bus while we're tourin', right?"

"You've mentioned it before, yeah."

Sam nodded. "Asher's a good lead guitar, sure. But he doesn't have the raw power you brought."

"Meaning what?"

"Asher..." Sam sucked in a breath. "Don't take this the wrong way, darlin', but you play like you're desperately fightin' to get somethin' outta you. It makes your sound heavy and raw. Ash doesn't have that. You can feel the difference between how he plays your songs and how you do. His technique is perfect but the feelin' behind it is all off." He made a face.

I mimicked it. "We'll see."

The rest of intermission was spent in silence between us.

Fact of the matter was, I did want to go back. But I couldn't admit that to Sam or myself. I didn't want to leave Sam. We'd end up seeing each other even less than we already barely could with him being the only one touring.

Get through tonight. Then unpack those feelings, I assured myself.

Eventually the house lights dimmed again. The band came back onstage. With no preamble or gentle opening to ease the audience back into the mood, they rocked into an opening. I smiled at the looks on my friends' faces. Still a little sweaty but mostly dried off. Absolutely high on the adrenaline of performing.

The crowd went nuts the whole song while I laughed and sang right along with them.

When the band reached the bridge of the song, I started to subtly unbutton Sam's flannel I was wearing, keeping it closed so my black-and-gold marbled-looking tank top was still hidden. One of my favorites to perform in, a couple years ago.

They reached the end of the song and I slouched in my seat, slipping the ball cap off my head and handing it, my earplugs, and the flannel to Sam.

Milo waited until the crowd settled a little. "Welcome back! Hopefully, everybody's had the opportunity the make their way back to their seats. Because we have a special surprise in store for everybody."

A few cheers. Scattered, and a bit confused. Most of the crowd seemed to just be waiting with bated breath for Milo to get on with it.

"It's been a couple years since we played this next song on tour. It never felt right, without the writer of it with us. You get to be the first ones to hear us play 'Tougher Than You' live on stage since Tank retired."

I saw David and Asher exchange a confused look.

Milo smiled conspiratorially at the crowd. Caught on the jumbotrons. "Because Tank is here tonight and gonna play it with us."

Asher's jaw dropped open and David's eyes widened as I popped out of my seat and hauled myself onto the stage. I whirled to face the stadium and waved, knowing the cameras were all on me.

The screams were loud enough to nearly knock me over. Milo threw an arm around me, lowering his mic to his side. "They never hated you," he said quietly. "Quinn failed."

I smiled at him and went to go get my guitar from backstage.

David shook his head. "Oh you sneaky motherf—" I didn't catch the rest because I turned away but I didn't need to catch it. I knew.

David's partner was beaming backstage beside Asher's partner and the band's security lead, holding my guitar out for me by the neck.

Grinning, I snatched it and threw the strap over my head, rushing back out with one hand held high, a pick flicking out of my leather cuff and into my fingers. I took a spot on the stage where I used to stand. Asher had taken a few steps back to give me room at his mic, plucking out the rhythm guitar part to remind himself what it was.

David knew this song even better than Sam did. So I didn't bother giving him a chance to count off the rest of the band before slamming into the opening.

Everything came naturally. Easily. Milo sang with the biggest smile on his face I'd ever seen during a show. I was at home, leaning my back against Asher's on the harmony. Feeling the stage lights' heat bead up sweat on my forehead and neck, David's drumbeat strong enough to sway my heartbeat to follow it.

Like I'd never left the stage behind.

Sam was right, I thought as I struck a hard chord. I do play like I'm fighting to get something out of me.

Because I was. I was fighting to get the music I felt in my soul out of my soul so the audience could feel it the way I did.

I'd written Tougher Than You from the perspective of me telling it to an ex of mine.

Now I sang and played it to Quinn, the same way I had onstage in Dahlia with Vincent and Sam and Alexis and Frederick. He'd allowed me to take a step back from the rockstar life—but he hadn't knocked me down permanently. I would always get back up and fight whatever he tried to do to me. I was tougher than everything that bastard could have ever thrown at me. I'd chosen the stage-name Tank as an inside joke. But it felt right now, in a way it hadn't before.

I was at home. With my band on my stage and my audience cheering me on with excitement.

Milo was right too. They never hated me.

As we hit the last note of the song, letting it sustain over the absolutely wild crowd, I panted with the biggest grin on my face.

I could get used to this feeling again, if I let myself.

Asher slung his guitar down its strap until it was upside-down on his back. I did the same, knowing what was coming. He crushed me into a hug, holding me tight. I ignored the slight stinging in my eyes. I was a damn rockstar—I wasn't going to cry onstage.

"God, I missed you, Tank," he said.

"Missed you too, buddy."

Milo rushed over and hit the hug on my side.

Next thing I knew, David was there too, arms encircling all three of us.

The crowd was still going wild.

When the cheering started to die down, I ran my guitar offstage and went back to my seat. Sam handed me my earplugs first, then my hat and flannel. Thankfully, the people sitting on either side of us respected us enough to leave us alone. And, to their credit, still didn't seem to recognize Sam.

—

Angel

"Tank!" I shouted, running across the backstage area after the concert was over. They held their arms out, letting me slam into them in a hug. "That was incredible!"

They laughed. "Thanks. Glad I could make it in time for Mont Blanc."

Sam chuckled from behind them. "Surprisin'ly, me too," he said softly. "Good reason and good way to come back."

I smiled at him too. "Thanks for accompanying our guitarist here," I teased. "Heaven knows they need it."

Tank glared at me playfully. I beamed.

David pressed a kiss to my head as he passed by. "Don't mind my menace too much, Tank," he remarked. "They do enjoy teasing."

Tank shrugged. "Feels like home, Davey."

That earned them a growl and an eye-roll.

I kept holding onto Tank in a hug. "So! What did you think?"

Tank glanced at where Milo, Asher, and Christian were helping the crew disassemble everything. "I'm gonna be honest, I missed this like hell. I wanna come back."

Asher's head whipped over at those words, smiling.

"I don't know if I'm ready just yet, but if you ever want me back..." They sniffed and wiped a quick, small tear that had escaped their eye. "I thought this was going to be one last show with this band. But I don't know if I'm ready to fully give it up."

"We'd take you back in a heartbeat," Milo said.

"Less!" Asher agreed.

Tank smiled. "When I'm ready, I'll let you know."

Sam kissed the side of their head. "There's my darlin'," he said quietly. "I knew the rockstar was still in there."

They laughed.

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @thegoldenlittlerose @shellssstuff @darlin-collins @icedunderwaterroom @ajfromabove

[dcviated]

He may have glimpsed one of the fuzzy creatures before— idly sorting the shelves in her storefront, briefly ferrying something small out from the kitchen before disappearing again, or even trailing along behind the little blonde as Miss Moto buzzed about the town doing whatever it was she did with all her time— but Diluc would be forgiven even if he didn’t identify Honey’s little familiar on first glance; and he wouldn’t have to wonder about the little-winged-thing’s appearance for long. 

Just as soon as the lumie caught the barkeep’s attention, it doffed its burden into his care: a garish heart-shaped card trimmed with gold details and tiny rhinestones, sealed on its edge with one of Honey’s usual hand-drawn charms. Of course. In what world would his foremost “admirer” miss a chance as perfect as a whole holiday functionally dedicated to big romantic gestures and professions of love? None, is the answer. Not a single one.

Does he groan just to look at it? Maybe. …but does he still open it?

If (read: when) he did, he’d be greeted immediately by a flourish of magic: a cloud of glitter and sparks not unlike a tiny firework display, and a musical trill of chimes to match– all pink and gold and shimmering, but mercifully brief. And once the pageantry was out of the way, he’d be left with another folded up bit of paper tucked inside, and a note written in fuchsia ink:

Dearest Mr. Ragnvindr / Diluc / Lulu, 

I’m not actually writing you a love letter! Gasp! I mean, I would totally write you a love letter, except a) I wouldn’t to be there to see your adoring and immensely flattered expression as you read it, which would be an honest-to-gods tragedy, and b) I’m 1000% sure you’ve probably got a stack of said letters from other would-be woo-ers accumulating by now. Boring! So much reading! I’ll just wax moonily at you when next I see you, yeah? Yeah!

…so, anyways: come see me!

I’m sure we’ve both had a busy day today, all things considered, and yours won’t be over ‘til late— but if you do want to celebrate even the teeeeeensiest bit, why not swing by my little starlit picnic? I found the prettiest little spot for stargazing the other night, over by Windrise, and I’ll be out there basking until I run out of stars to gaze at (at which point I’d happily just gaze at you, if you were there~)

I marked the spot on the little map tucked there →

if you decide you want to drop by. ♥♥♥

- Honey

[P.S. – Emphasis on “if” and “want;” don’t worry about wounding my damselesque feelings if you’d rather just go home and fall into your bed after a long day of witnessing other people make googoo eyes at each other— I’ll survive, somehow. (And a certain bard will be keeping me company for the earlier evening, anywho).]

@mielmoto gets this ask posted because trying to move it breaks the editor

The idea of him working the bar that night would be ludicrous. Diluc does what he can to support Charles when it came to running Angel's Share but just thinking about having himself behind the counter on this night of all nights was enough to give the uncrowned king a shiver like no other. He worked a shift earlier in the day instead, allowing the normal bartender the time he needed in order to get his affairs (hopefully not in that respect) in order.

He does feel bad for the man, by the time he turned the counter back over word had just managed to spread that Diluc Ragnvindr was working Angel's Share on Valentine's Day. Wouldn't you be excited to stop by? It honestly was not intended to be a ploy for extra business for the establishment.

Alas, peace would not befall him. A strange creature darts over to him, flittering about with an excitement that evoked a sense of familiarity in the man. Whatever mystery of sender that could have remained is dashed when the letter is held in his hands. Scents. Textures. The assault on the eyes. Garish is right. If the spirit had hopes for thanks, they would have to settle. An errant glance and perturbed furrow of the brow before Diluc nods and shoos it away.

Go on. You're done.

It doesn't hurt to open the letter now, surely. He's away from the streets now and heading to the stable to retrieve his horse for the ride back to the winery.

No sooner is the pinch undone does the flurry of magic and glitter burst harmlessly over the stoic face of the young master. Perhaps this is some modicum of karma for bequeathing the growing crowd he left behind onto Charles?

He's not exactly impressed.

One blink. Then two. No mystery indeed. That baker, must she go to these lengths? Apparently it was in her nature, and it was in his to trip every trap that was set. Whether it was conversational, physical, or otherwise. A knead of his brow, a shake of the head. Pft...

"And what might our favorite baker be plotting today..." He mutters before finally deigning to peruse the contents. With most other letters he would wash over platitudes and trifles. Wishes and desires that boiled down to taking the man and fitting him like a piece to complete their lives. People who knew nothing of him yet wished to have him. A picture. A symbol. Oh, he's aware of his status as the most eligible bachelor in Mondstadt. Some of his staff often reminded him as well.

...Not a love letter? He'll believe it once he's reached the end.

And it IS technically not a love letter, though the flirtations contained in the lines and the messages between convey certain intentions. Should he choose to indulge her invitation, of course.

"She'll be waiting for me, then, for a picnic?"

How simple it would be to ignore, for Diluc to simply ride the black mare back to the winery as he intended and cast it into the pile of other letters that Adelinde had surely prepared into a clean stack in the dining room for his reading pleasure on his return. If only he still possessed the level of joy and kindness that she did, that she had instilled in him those years ago.

And yet it wasn't all gone.

But perhaps Honey may think it to be so? No, perish the thought. Yet the stars were in the sky and no fire-haired gentleman had rode over the horizon to accompany her in their viewing. Had he scorned the invitation as expected?

Not at all. For you see, there's a concern, here. As touching a holiday Valentine's could be not all would celebrate it. The baker was alone out there at her picnic, and there were any number of groups that would not take the day off out in the wilderness. Hilichurls. Fatui. Doubtful the Abyss Order took the day out of the calendar to find dates too. So. Yes. Maybe. You could say he was just worried for her wellbeing? A check up on the woman.

It's not like he trusted the bard to stay in one place. Or with one person. Or when the drinks are empty.

Diluc arrives to Windrise Valley on horseback, having traded the black horse for a palomino during the time he'd left Mondstadt City. After a moment is taken to confirm the woman is safe and the surroundings clear... he dismounts. No sense putting it off any longer. He's come prepared. The case he pulls off of the saddle fitted with two bottles and two glasses. If one of them is wine, it's not hard to guess what is contained in the other.

"You really did plan to stay out here all evening, didn't you, Miss Honey? That could have been dangerous... It's good to see you're unharmed. Not that I saw anyone or anything nearby. I can't stay for long, but... I did bring this for your enjoyment. If you're going to have a picnic it's best to have a proper drink for the occasion."

[amethystpath-writes]

A Lesson Learned

(NOT A PROMPT)

Hello :) Could you write a piece where the extremely flirtatious villain notices that the hero isn’t taking care of themselves and tries to get them to and promises not to do anything (capture them, etc), but (surprise!) then they do? Haha sorry if it’s a bit specific, adore your writing!

******

“Why, doll,” Villain cooed from behind the bench which Hero sat upon. The bench was old, wood in the process of rotting. Speaking of rot- Villain rounded the park bench, coming face to face with that once-handsome, now-perished face. “Don’t you just look like you sprang from Hell? Yeesh.”

Hero shrugged, not even caring that Villain was here to taunt him yet again- to pick at him with compliments. Usually, anyways. Now, she was insulting him. Did he really look that out of it? Hero felt like it, so it shouldn’t have been so surprising to him. “Don’t feel great- get out of here.”

“And do what? I’d miss the grumble in your voice too much. Come now, my dear, tell me what has that pretty hair of yours so tangled.” Villain’s hand grazed the locks atop Hero’s head, fingers skimming his scalp. She hummed her delight. “How pretty,” Villain whispered into Hero’s ear. “Even if it is greasy.”

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this.”

Good God, what is that stench? Villain could gag- not could; Villain did gag on the smell. “When was the last time you showered, sugar?” Hero certainly didn’t smell like sugar, but it was in Villain’s nature to shoot a flirt at him anyways.

“Don’t know. Would you get your hand out of my hair?”

“You don’t know?” Villain sighed, dropping her hand and rounding the bench until she came to the front, facing Hero and his abnormally large eye sacks. “Oh, darling…” you have jellyfish beneath your eyes. “You should take better care of yourself. I could help you, you know?”

Hero’s eyes grew as wide as they could with eyelids made of lead. “Help me do what? Bathe?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind helping you do that- think of how close we would be, my sweet doll.” She sat beside the broken-beyond-repair hero, dragging a fingertip along his dirtied pants. Villain sighed, slightly bored of this game of chess. Her flirtations were slipping away like a wet bar of soap. What an ironic comparison.

Villain said, “What I meant is this; I’ll give your handsomeness a break- or your ugliness, rather. You need to regain your looks, hence the break.”

Ignoring the insult, Hero said, dead-panned, “And I’m supposed to believe you.” A soft tut.

“Have I given you any reason not to? On this pretty night?”

“Beyond the not-so-subtle insults,” Hero thought aloud, and finished with, “I guess not.”

With a scoff, Villain said, “I wouldn’t call those insults. I could have said much worse- and anyways, you know I’m a tease. I feel even more concerned that you’ve forgotten such a vital detail about me. More reason to leave you alone. Right, my love?”

“I still don’t know if I believe you.”

“Why would it matter what I did or didn’t do when you don’t even care to look after yourself?”

She makes a good point. Still… “What would you do then?” Hero didn’t particularly care to have this conversation right now, but- well, he was a hero. Even if he were too exhausted to take care of himself, it was still his responsibility to protect the people. Just because Villain was saying she’d leave Hero alone didn’t mean she’d leave the citizens alone.

“What would I do? Sulk, mostly. I’d miss your pretty little face while I sat alone on my couch.”

“Right. Because I always sit on a couch with you.”

“There’s a taste of that precious fire. You’re beautiful when you’re sarcastic- and healthy.”

Hero sighed. It didn’t matter what he said, did it? He could tell Villain she looked like a horse’s rear-end mixed with a jackal’s paw and she’d continue sticking around. “You said you’d give me a break.” Of course, Hero still didn’t believe Villain’s words. It was her one and only nature to torment him with pointless compliments- and harmful insults apparently.

As if I didn’t already know I look like crap. I’m tired; that’s all. No motivation to do anything but sit on the park bench. He didn’t even feel like getting up to stretch his legs, despite knowing it needed to be done. Hero would rather deal with the aches of standing than to be forced into using so much energy while sitting. How draining it was- standing up from his position now. That’s why he stayed put, even with Villain’s hand circling in his hair once again.

This time, the hand in Hero’s hair was actually soothing. The tender scrape of Villain’s nails against his scalp. The gentle pull through the hair as her fingers caught on tangles, though the larger knots were a tad painful. Hero hummed his delight at the two former feelings, finding himself leaning into the arm which offered such relief.

On a regular day, one not so adorned with absent motivation and sourness, Hero would have slapped Villain’s hand away- would have told her to go find a dog in the park to pet. Naturally, he would have regretted saying it, thinking that Villain might claw its eyes out instead of petting it. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t do something that serious, but she might have stepped on a puppy’s tail, making it screech- if only to horrify the owner.

“Isn’t this a nice break, sugar?” Villain asked, but, of course, there was more to it than this scalp massage. When Hero fell asleep, with his head on Villain’s shoulder, she would give herself a break- not him.

******

Eyes still closed from having just woken up, Hero pulled his shoulder back against the hard- hard? I thought I was in- His eyes cracked open.

White ceiling. Or, mostly white, at least. There was some water damage that Hero could see even through his blurry and freshly woken eyes. The yellow and orange stains did not belong on his ceiling.

He shifted slightly, body still stiff, but he wasn’t willing to stretch yet- just in case there was…a certain someone…paying attention. Damn Villain, Hero thought, because who else’s home could he be in if it weren’t his own?

It was with this thought in mind that Hero sat up. No use in lounging around. Better off to find a way out before Villain-

“Nice to see those starlit eyes of yours.”

Great. Turning his head, he saw Villain casually sprawled across a couch.

Well, one thing was for certain; Hero had the motivation to get up and run again. At least he could thank Villain for something, even if it were simply the desire to escape.

Sitting up, slowly and stiffly, Hero said, “A break. You were supposed to give me a break. It’s what you said, what you told me you’d do. You would give me a break to take care of myself and you would sulk.”

He could almost imagine Villain’s voice answering with an easy lull, ‘I didn’t say what the break would entail, love.’ Love. Darling. Doll. My dear. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.

“I gave you a break. Two of them, if we’re being technical. The massage and the shelter. Actually,” Villain smiled at him from her couch cushion, eyes closing just slightly as her cheeks gathered higher and higher. “I might call it liberation- instead of a break. Infinite freedom versus periods of mass depression and showerless nights.”

Hero felt his jaw tick. “What are you talking about?” he asked, voice low- just the way Villain liked.

He wasn’t helping his case any, now, was he? Being all cutesy. It only allowed Villain to enjoy this whole situation more.

“You wake up in your stalker’s home and don’t even think to check your body for modifications? What a pity you are sometimes,” Villain giggled. She meant it as a compliment; it was her way of calling the hero cute and favourable.

Stalker. Well, Villain might as well have been considered as such. She showed up just about everywhere Hero was, only to hold hostages for no other reason than to have control over someone, to hear the fear in their high whines- and to see the fear glistening low in their eyes. Villain was wicked, and she was wicked always in Hero’s presence. Stalker- maybe that’s what the news would start calling her if they, or Hero, ever managed to stop Villain.

Villain grew impatient with Hero’s procrastination of observation. “Explore yourself, won’t you?”

And Hero did now. He looked down his arms, torso, legs, anything that was in his perspective, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, except- “Do not tell me you actually washed me.” His arms were speck and dead-skin cleaned.

“A wet rag against your arms and legs, nothing else.”

Hero simply took her word for it, trying not to imagine how he’d feel if she were lying. How horrendous.

Then what is it? Nothing- absolutely nothing- was irregular, so why was Villain going on about…Hero’s fingers skimmed something along his neck- one of the few things he couldn’t see with his own eyes.

No…no. Not just along his neck. There was something inside of Hero’s neck. “What did you do to me?” His voice came out as a horrifyingly quiet whisper, one that squeaked in the back of his throat.

“You wouldn’t take care of yourself, Hero. I had to step in.”

“I don’t- no. No. Whatever you’re doing, you- you need to- I need to go home. I need you to stay away from me and I need- I need-” Oh no. Was he hyperventilating? He couldn’t- God, he couldn’t breathe. Hero was panicking, scratching at his neck, at the irregular shaped lumps. Get out. Get. Out. Getout. Getout. Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.

A gasp sounded in the room as Hero’s head hit the ground, trying to dodge the zap that occurred at the front of his throat, right where he was scratching so madly.

“Well, I guess that’s a lesson learned rather quickly. Darling, you didn’t even know what those were, and yet you were trying to rip them out. It might have killed you.”

“Uhah.”

Villain quirked her head to the side. “Didn’t get that, sorry. Must have fried your vocal cords- better that than you build up a bunch of infectious bacteria.” Truth be told, the zap wasn’t so bad that it would permanently damage Hero- only give him little tics and make him fret.

“You’ll be so very happy that I took that rag over your skin- otherwise you’d have woken up to your own stench while I was injecting the little stun rods. That would have been difficult,” Villain laughed, legs extending until they laid on the arm of the couch.

“Now,” Villain piped, “there is an outfit laid out in the bathroom- down this hall here”- she pointed- “and second door to the right. Get a shower, bath, whatever you want, and get dressed. I have plans and I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Swerving her legs over the arm- despite having just put them there- Villain planted her feet on the ground and placed her elbows near her knees, leaning forward, all amount of humour aside. “I’m the only one who gets to torment you, you hear me? Not even you have my permission to do harm to yourself or otherwise slack in personal healthcare. If you are in any kind of bad condition, it will be because I allowed it. M’kay?”

She stood, walked several paces to where Hero still sat on the floor and patted his cheek. “I’m making myself food before we leave and while you take a shower. Don’t disappoint me by trying to escape, my dove. You’re in my cage now.” Villain gave Hero a tap on the head as she pulled a remote control out of her pocket with her other hand. For extra measure, she held one of the buttons for three seconds, sending Hero onto his back once again, writhing on the floor- though avoiding scratching his neck.

A lesson learned indeed.

“Believe it or not, I do intend to be kind to you. I just wanted to show you what happens if you decide you’re not worth taking care of again.”

One last click of the button and she was gone, leaving a panting hero behind in the dust.

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #15 - Conquering The Storm

Thunderous - ‘relating to or giving warning of thunder’

————————————————————

The heavy feeling of charged energy made Katsum’s fur stand on end as the light falling rain pounded against her armor plating. The thunderous rumbling through the air around them excited her, and she held tightly to Raihogg’s scaled back as his wings fluttered to push them higher into the air, his glowing blue and yellow eyes locked on the storm clouds above them. He told her many times how he and Bridgette would fly into thunderstorms together, weaving through the strikes of lightning and bathing in the rain, and how he had adored those flights. The more he spoke of it, the more fascinated she became until finally, she asked to fly with him through one such storm.

He had hesitated for a moment and confessed, “Forgive my hesitation. I only fear I cannot keep you as safe as I could Bridgette as I am no longer living and breathing in my own body. For without the aether I draw from you and the necklace, you would be falling through the sky alone…”

Katsum had honestly been a little surprised by this answer, but she understood his meaning and it warmed her heart that he worried so. Still, she smiled at him and said, “Then let’s try a smaller storm first and go from there. You’ve gotten me so fascinated with the idea of flying through a storm I can scarcely forget about it so I would still like to try it one day if you’ll allow it.”

The great red dragon had thought for a moment before he nodded with a chuckle, “Ever as Bridgette was, haha. Very well, we shall soar through the thunder and conquer the storms together.”

And today was the day they would conquer the largest storm so far.

The skywatchers had spoken of a very large mass of thunder clouds hanging over the Black Shroud that was moving northward towards Dravania, a strange phenomenon as normally the storms moved away from the mountains, not towards them. This caught Katsum’s curiosity, and when she spoke of it to Raihogg, they both agreed that this would be the storm.

Thunder rolled in the distance as the sky grew darker as the clouds grew thicker, sparks of light flashing ahead of them. Katsum leaned close to the red dragon and shouted over the wind, “Are you ready for this, Rai?!”

The dragon glanced back at her with a small chuckle, “Am I ready? Art thou prepared is the better question. ‘Tis your aether after all.”

She rolled her eyes with a bright smile, her eyes wide with excitement as she looked at the cloud, “I am!!”

The dragon’s wings sliced through the air as he pushed them up into the air to gain a bit of speed, flying a bit higher than the clouds and out into the clear night sky above. Katsum shook the rain from her face and looked down at the flashing cloud below them, the rumbling thunder echoing without ceasing around them. Raihogg hummed and took a deep breath, “Hold fast to me and lean close. I’ll not have you become a lightning rod.”

Katsum lay down on his back, tightening her grip on his scales, yet she patted him softly as well, “You can do this, Raihogg. I believe in you.”

The great dragon chuckled again and smiled at her, “Thank you, Katsum.” She nodded and they turned their eyes to the cloud as Raihogg pushed his wings down and then folded them close as they began their dive into the heart of the storm, “Now let us fly!”

Katsum’s fingers tightened on his scales as the black clouds grew nearer and the heavy electricity in the air grew thicker. The miqo’te pressed herself lower against him as they breached the cloud, surrounded by nothing but blackness for a moment, yet when they broke through the other side, Katsum’s jaw dropped in wonder.

The hollowed insides of the storm cloud were filled with infinite lightning strikes, the streams of electricity striking every inch of the cloud and moving through it like living, breathing creatures swarming within their hive. Raihogg unfolded his wings to soar on the charged winds, his eyes following each strike closely as he dodged them. The knightess watched a charge of lightning flutter over them and hit the wall of the cloud, a stream of bright energy striking afterward and filling the trail the charge had left behind, “This is amazing!”

“Careful now, remember to stay—” Suddenly a charge shot down towards Katsum, and Raihogg shifted quickly to dodge it. Yet the charge would not be so easily shaken and struck the horns of his tail. Raihogg roared as the lightning streamed and Katsum braced for the pain she knew she would feel…yet it never came. Raihogg too seemed surprised as they both glanced back to see the horns of his tail now glowing red with energy, small sparks of lightning popping off of them. As if remembering some lost forgotten memory, Raihogg’s voice rumbled excitedly, “Ah yes….how could I forget. Hold fast to me, my queen. I shall show you how we shall conquer this storm!”

With a roar, Raihogg turned to charge as a bolt of lightning, slicing his wing through the energy so the charge struck the talons on the edge of his winged arm. The lightning flashed as the charge was absorbed into his horns and they too began to glow. He did the same with his other wing and with the horns on his head. His eyes glowed red he slowed and hovered in the middle of the cloud and sucked in a deep breath. Suddenly all the charges of the cloud changed course and shot towards them and Katsum ducked again as they struck his glowing horns. The sky grew dim as the electricity was drawn out of it and into Raihogg’s body until there were no more strikes of lightning and the only source of light inside the dark cloud was Raihogg himself. His red glow made the cloud look rather eerie, yet slowly the cloud began to dissipate, the storm itself no longer able to hold itself together without the charges of thunder and lightning. They hovered there as the cloud broke apart and Raihogg breathed slowly, waiting and he held fast to the sparking energy on its leash, waiting for just the right moment. As the moon and stars came into view again, Raihogg sucked in a large breath and all the glowing light shifted, flowing through his veins and scales to his jaws where it gathered into a great ball of sparking lightning. With one push of his wings, the red dragon turned his head to the sky and shot the ball of lightning into the heavens above them where it flew straight up and then burst into a million streams of lightning, both red and blue, as she spread across the empty starlit sky and vanished.

Katsum sat up and laughed in amazement, “Raihogg! That was amazing!”

The tired dragon fluttered his wings nervously for a moment, breathing heavily as he very carefully started to descend, “A moment if you please.”

He fluttered down to a tall spire of rock that gave him just enough room to land on and dropped heavily onto the stone as he breathed heavily with Katsum. Her heart was racing with excitement as she smiled the biggest smile and patted him, “You did it! You actually did it! That was…that was more amazing than I could have ever imagined!!”

Raihogg chuckled amidst his gasps for breath, but he nodded, “I did not think myself capable of such powers anymore, yet I seemed to have doubted myself far more than I should have.”

Katsum shrugged, “Don’t I know all about that kind of thing myself. Still, don’t push yourself now. Let us rest here for a while until you can breathe normally again before we head home, yes?” She excitedly swished her tail as her ears wiggled happily, “I cannot wait to tell Aymeric about this!”

“You may not want to, for I am quite sure he will go mad with worry for the next flight.”

“….You do have a point there.”