#Julie and the phantoms oneshot

[heliads]

sorry to send in two requests but if you've got the time Luke Patterson x reader where she is his tutor for English or something and he develops a crush, so even when he understands the stuff she's teaching him he pretends to be confused so that the tutoring sessions last longer. And then one day he gets a good grade and she's proud of him but that means the sessions are over so he builds up the courage to ask her out? You can put this at the bottom of the list or not even write it because I know how swamped your requests get, but ily.

do not apologize for two requests!! my blog exists for you!! and jatp s2 may be dead but my feelings for that show are not. xoxo

masterlist

Luke Patterson is currently fighting a one-man war against his English class, and he is losing. Badly. This was not supposed to be his problem class, he was thinking the biggest struggle would be math or science, but surprise surprise, there’s no such thing as a class you can just skate through. He tried to skate through English. He tried really, really hard, but instead of Spark Notes-ing his way through whatever classic book they threw his way, Luke’s staring at a bright red D on his latest essay.

This would happen to be the most recent essay they were assigned, the one Luke pushed off until the last minute because he was too invested in getting some good songs down on paper. He hadn’t meant to procrastinate, he never does, it’s just that whenever Luke had a spare hour or two, it’s always far more tempting to head out to the studio and mess around with some chord progressions than to do homework.

This essay had gone just like all the other ones so far this year. The book had been assigned, the essay followed not soon after, and Luke told himself that he was going to start it on time for a change. The only problem was that he came home late that day after a shift at his job, so he couldn’t start it that day, and then he was studying for a test the next day, and after that he was working on songs. Before he knew it, it was the night before and he was speed writing to get everything down in time. Luke doesn’t even think he had time to proofread before turning in that mess.

So yeah, he shouldn’t really be surprised about this grade in particular. Still, he isn’t pleased about it. He doesn’t want to see the look on his parents’ face when he dodges another question about his grades, nor listen to all the other kids in his class talk about how easy that essay prompt was. Everything just makes him feel worse.

And, if Luke’s day couldn’t get any better, his English teacher pulls him aside after class to talk about it.

“I noticed your last few assignments haven’t been going as expected,” she says sympathetically, “is there anything you want to tell me about that?”

There’s a lot Luke wants to tell her, such as the fact that this class is dry as a saltine and twice as bland. They’ve spent the last few classes just going over social hierarchies around the time when the book was written, talk about boring. If Luke wanted to study history, he’d read a textbook.

He can’t say all that without damaging his final grade even more, though, so Luke plasters on a grin and does his best impression of an earnest student who’s just had a bad string of luck. “Not really, I’ve just been so busy recently that I didn’t have enough time to really ponder the prompt, you know?”

Usually, this is Luke’s best strategy for getting out of these kinds of nonsense conferences. He’ll whip out a few key words like ‘time commitments’ and whatnot and his teachers will fall for it every time.

He might have done this too often, though, because his teacher just nods and refuses to let him go. “That makes sense to me. Do you think it would help to spend a little more time exploring the prompt or connecting the book to the essay topics?”

“Sure,” Luke says vaguely. He’s only half paying attention; he just saw Reggie outside the door mouthing the words what did you do?? as dramatically as he could.

The teacher looks pleased by this. “That’s what I thought. I’ve gone ahead and signed you up for some tutoring sessions, you’ll start this afternoon after school.”

Luke blinks. “Wait, what?” Clearly, he hasn’t been paying attention nearly enough. Since when was tutoring on the table?

The teacher spreads her hands. “You need a little more help and organization to stay on track. Tutoring is the perfect answer to this.”

“Is it?” Luke asks feebly.

“Absolutely,” the teacher decides, and that’s that. Luke tries to wheedle his way out of it through repetition of how busy he is, like, all the time, but it doesn’t matter. She’s caught him in a half-lie and there’s nothing he can do to avoid it.

Reggie’s waiting for Luke outside the door when he finally leaves. “What happened in there?”

“Pure misery,” Luke groans, and contemplates giving himself a concussion by ‘accidentally’ falling down the stairs so he can go home without having to go to tutoring.

Unfortunately, Reggie enlists Alex in keeping Luke free of head trauma, and so he finds himself in an empty classroom later that afternoon, mournfully watching all of the other students leave the school with no doubt wonderful plans awaiting them.

Luke’s just starting to wonder if his tutor isn’t going to show up after all (after fifteen minutes, he’s legally allowed to leave, right) when someone slides into the seat in front of him.

“Sorry about being late,” they gasp, “I just found out I was doing this like ten minutes ago.”

Luke breaks his desolate stare out the window to glance at his tutor and instantly, he feels the crushing weight of shame bear down on him tenfold. It would have been one thing to have a total stranger be his tutor, someone Luke could avoid looking at in the hallways and never speak to again, but he knows this girl. More importantly, he’s thought she was cute for at least the last four years.

This is the worst case scenario, then. Y/N L/N is smart, she’s pretty, and judging by the fact that Luke always sees her in a group of friends laughing at her jokes, she’s funny, too. Definitely someone Luke would want to impress through gigs or shows instead of, say, his crumbling English grades.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, and Luke realizes that she’s probably been waiting for him to say something. Great, he can’t even introduce himself properly.

“Luke,” he answers, “but you probably knew that already.”

Y/N laughs, and judging by the slightly manic tone behind it, she’s just about as composed about the whole thing as he is. That makes him settle slightly in his chair, lowering his guard. “I was told that I would be tutoring you when I was trying to leave class. Ms. Brown pulled me aside when the bell rang and told me about it.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke grumbles.

The corners of Y/N’s lips quirk up before she manages to tamp them down again, and if Luke weren’t totally out of his mind, he might even say that Y/N has the same attitude towards their English teacher as he does. That would certainly make this whole tutoring experience a lot more interesting.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound official, “you wanted to talk about essay pointers, right?”

Luke starts to say something about how he didn’t want any of this, actually, but Y/N arches a brow and he relents. “Yeah, essay stuff. The last one didn’t go over too hot.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, contemplating this. “Did you agree with her grading?”

“Yeah,” Luke admits, “she wasn’t wrong to mark me down, I kind of did it the night before in one sitting.”

Y/N frowns. “Really? Why’d you put it off so long? I thought you liked writing. Whenever I see you, you’re always jotting something down in that notebook of yours.”

Luke grins. “You’ve been watching me? That’s creepy, you know.” He’s obviously holding back a laugh, though, so the comment has no trace of a barb.

Y/N rolls her eyes, although her face looks a little hot at the moment. “Just answer the question.”

“Alright,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender, “you’re right, I do like writing.”

“Then why wait until the last minute to do the essay? I mean, I get not having a ton of time to work on assignments, but if you really do enjoy writing, it shouldn’t be all that bad, right?”

Luke groans. “ This is different. It’s not fun writing,” he tries to excuse himself.

It sounds bad even to him. Already, Luke can see how this is going to play out– she’ll laugh at him, maybe, say that someone who just got a grade like him can’t possibly be thinking about writing and fun in any way at all. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she nods and smiles at him. A real smile. Not mocking in any way.

“What is fun writing, then?” She asks.

Luke blinks in surprise. “Well, writing songs is fun, I guess,” he stammers, “stuff that actually matters, you know? All these essays are the exact same, but songs are all different. That’s why I care about them and not some pointless paper.”

Y/N nods. “That makes sense to me. So you release music, right?”

Luke isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but he’s perfectly happy to talk about music instead of that offensive red scribble all over his paper, so he plays along. “Yeah, me and my band. We try to, at least.”

“Have you ever gotten a review that bothered you? Not because they didn’t like it, but because they disliked your songs for the wrong reason? Like you had a whole story in mind for your album but the critics just ignored it?” She prompts him.

“Yeah,” Luke says, eyes widening with irritation, “Man, it’s so annoying. You go to all the trouble of writing out these ideas, and you make them have a really good meaning, too, and then it’s like they never read it at all. It makes me so mad sometimes, I want to write a column or something in response about how they totally missed my point.”

“Like, say, an argumentative essay about the real strengths of your chosen piece of writing?” Y/N says as casually as she can.

Luke’s about to argue and say that’s not like this at all, but on second thought, it is. It totally is. “Wait, you’re right. I never thought about it like that, but you’re right. Y/N L/N,” he decides on the spot, “I really like you.”

She grins back at him. “Luke Patterson, I like you too.”

That settles it for him. Luke had been annoyed at the thought of having to suffer through tutoring beforehand, but maybe he’ll be alright with it now. Y/N isn’t a part of the oppressive legion of teachers all conniving to make his life a living hell because he wants to be a musician instead of a doctor or a banker, she’s on his side. That makes it all better somehow.

And, unsurprisingly, it is better. Luke actually ends up having a really good time in his tutoring sessions with Y/N. They don’t feel like tutoring at all, more like a chance to hang out with a friend. They talk about Jane Austen and tell awesome jokes, read Shakespeare and spend more and more time together. Luke knows this is only a temporary thing until his grades get back up, but it’s too easy to forget that.

Until, one day, it isn’t. His English teacher hands back an essay with a bright red ‘A’ marked on the front, and tells him that she’s proud of all the progress he’s made so quickly. Instead of a sigh of relief, the only thing escaping Luke’s lips is a desolate sigh. After all, if Luke’s improved to this point, that kind of means his tutoring sessions will be over, right?

Y/N doesn’t know that, though. Y/N doesn’t have access to his grades. All she knows is what Luke tells her, and if informing her of his latest essay win means she’ll stop seeing him after school, why should Luke let slip a single syllable?

So, later that day, when Y/N asks him how the latest essay went, Luke shrugs and pretends to be disappointed. “I’d hoped for more,” he says, “she, uh, didn’t like my commentary.”

“Really?” Y/N questions, frowning slightly, “I thought you were really good at that.”

Luke’s eyes widen, caught in a lie. “Who knows with teachers, right?” He laughs weakly.

Y/N pretends to shudder. “I know, right? I feel like half of your grade is literally just how much she likes you. English classes are always so subjective.”

“Subjective?” Luke asks, grinning and propping his chin up on his hand, “Tell me about that.”

Y/N laughs. “Only if you promise we’ll talk Jane Eyre immediately afterwards. Immediately.”

“I so swear,” Luke intones, holding up his right hand with all the solemnity of a president being sworn into office.

Y/N swats him on the shoulder with her notebook, but she obliges, and maybe they don’t talk about Jane immediately. Maybe they laugh a little longer than usual. And maybe, just maybe, Luke thinks that he’s perfectly fine with obscuring the truth if it means he can have more of this when he needs it the most.

The truth, unfortunately, has a habit of making itself heard regardless of who is inclined to hide it. Luke comes into their usual study spot in the library one day to see Y/N waiting for him, not already in her seat like normal but standing tentatively at the side.

He frowns, slinging his backpack down on the ground and pulling up a chair. “Everything alright? You look like you’re about to run. If you’ve got something planned, we can do this another day.”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “No, I’m free all day.”

Luke gestures towards the table. “Then sit down, my legs are getting tired just looking at you. We’ve got stuff to study, don’t we?”

“Well, that’s what I was going to ask about,” Y/N says, “Ms. Brown stopped me after class today, said she had someone else she wanted me to tutor. I said I was already booked with you and she was confused. Apparently you’ve been doing just fine for quite some time.”

Luke feels his breath catch in his throat. This is not how he’d wanted Y/N to find out. For what must be the hundredth time this year, Luke sends out a silent curse to all meddlesome English teachers.

“Yeah,” he says as carefully as he can, “I have, but only because of your expert tutoring. It’s like antibiotics, you know? You don’t stop taking ‘em when you start feeling better, only when the prescription is over.”

Y/N blinks at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to feel like everything is slipping out of control in an instant. “It was a simile, sorry. A bad one. All I mean is that we don’t have to stop this just because I got a good grade or two.”

Y/N almost looks like she’s smiling, but that could just be Luke being delusional. “I thought you didn’t want to do tutoring.”

“I didn’t at the start, but you’re different. We’re cool. We are cool, right?” Luke starts rambling more and more with each passing second, but he can’t help it. He’s overthinking everything. What if he’s literally just been a tutee this whole time, and she doesn’t think they’re friends at all?

Y/N stares at him a second longer, then takes a seat at last. “Luke Patterson, are you telling me that you like my company so much that you’re willing to keep going to extra English practice just to see me?”

Luke can feel his face heating up, but he does his best to ignore it. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds–” He still has a little bit of self control left, so he cuts himself off before he can make a truly terrible mistake.

Y/N catches him, though. “It sounds like what?”

“It sounds like I like you,” he admits, and Y/N’s smiling at him, so he decides to take the leap of faith and just do what he’s been wanting to do for quite some time. Since the start of this, actually. “And I do like you. I like you a lot. I might not need the tutoring anymore, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you. So what if we met up sometime soon? Not for English, for us.”

Luke decides that he likes Y/N’s smile more than anything. “Are you asking me out?” She says.

“I am,” he affirms. “Are you saying yes?”

“I am,” she repeats.

Suddenly, Luke feels like the luckiest kid of all. Maybe he does have to throw in a good word or two for meddlesome English teachers after all. Sometimes they have a way of connecting you with the best people in the world.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

jatp tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @callsign-scully, @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

[presleyluvschris]

Join The Dream

alive!luke patterson x girlbestfriend!reader

a/n: not requested, back after 4 months!

desc luke didnt know you could sing after years of being your best friend

wc - 1.8k

warnings slight cursing, fluff, grammar, not proof read

the door krept open as you got home from school, tossing your grey messy laced converse off of your ankles and sludging your backpack off one of your shoulders and onto the floor.

it was 4:09 pm, you had nothing to do besides an english paper. but that could be done later.

you walk across the kitchen to sit on top of the counter, your nike women's dry-fit socks dangling as you thought about something, anything to do.

reggie and alex were out making flyers for their upcoming band gig on friday, while your best friend luke was probably somewhere in your guest house messing with your dads old music equipment and speakers you had gotten out of some dusty boxes for him a few weeks ago.

what was there to do?

you make a raspberry with your lips.

laundry...done. homework..ish, done. rooms clean...dad didn't get home until 10...

you stare at your mom's piano in the crevice of a large indent in a wall as you hear the air conditioner buzz softly.

the house was dead silent. no one was home.

for some reason, your hands begin to shake and your throat closes up staring at the white keys and grand black figure just sitting feet away, almost feeling like an old friend waiting for you to come back to it again.

after years.

this was the longest you had ever beared to look at it before.

the blank truth was you had completely disregarded the thought of ever playing any musical instrument ever again after your mom had died of cancer four years ago.

especially the piano. especially singing.

it was all the things you and your mom had cherished with each other. everytime you tried to even look at it. all that could replay in the back of your mind was your five-year-old self playing and singing along to "i love you baby", with your mother and you giggling with her.

what was so wrong about it? that you couldn't have that same feeling anymore? you didn't know.

it just hurt. all of it did.

over the years you had become slightly jealous of luke, reggie, and alex for being able to enjoy music like it was a second nature. maybe thats because it used to be yours, too, and your love for music had been taken away. and you felt like you could never get it back.

luke never knew about your passion for music. neither did alex, or reggie. sure, luke had watched you play with your mom as a kid but he never knew that you had the same thriving passion of music that made you feel alive like he did also.

everytime he tried to get you to sing along to one of the songs he had wrote with reggie you just shrugged it off, letting them sing.

because when your mom died, music died too.

in fact, luke had never heard you sing before. not even in the car, the shower, nothing.

but would this be what your mother had wanted? never even singing on the radio just because of memories?

if you were honest, you hadn't been the same person when you gave up music. If you were even more honest, you felt a hole without it.

you decided to get off the counter and slowly creep over to just....look.

not play, of course, no.

just...looking.

just...sitting down at your mom's favorite stool..

just..looking at the keys..

just..feeling them..

breathing...

you flinch when you accidentally hit a note with your finger.

your heart immediately starts pumping and you feel your stomach sink.

technically, you did just...play.

so, technically, accidentally, you could just play another...

on purpose, this time, you press a note, taking in the sound of a piano again like it was something completely new.

again, maybe? just once.

you start to play a few chords, trying to dig back in your brain four years.

you remember of a song called "forever", written by you. when you were 14. a month before your mom passed.

after playing the chords a few times, it comes flooding back to you like a sudden tidal wave.

you start playing them in order, now, and start singing your lyrics.

tears fall down your cheeks and onto the keys as you play the whole song through, singing the chorus, the verse..

you lean back slightly, holding your hands to your chest with a sniffle.

you wipe your eyes, but then jump at the sudden touch of a hand on your shoulder.

you whip your head around, quickly backing away from the stool.

"what the hell!" you gasp, but then realize who it was.

it was luke standing in front of you, now. his expression completely shocked.

it was silent, the only sounds was you trying to catch your breath.

his mouth was practically on the floor.

"y/n l/n."

you swallow, "yeah."

"what the fu-"

you cut him off, and play dumb, "what? i was just-"

you turn your head slightly to look at the piano behind you and then back to him.

"i was just like, messing around, i dunno, it was like- something i came up with..like..uhm..."

"i-i have so many questions." he scoffs, "first, okay? why in the honey bunches of fuck did you never tell me you could...you could..sing like that?"

you take a breath to answer, but he keeps going.

"two." he puts his hands to the back of his head, "since when could you play the piano? what song was that? was it yours? your moms? is this why you've never sang before? why-"

"luke, it-its complicated. i-" you take a breath out and shake your head, "i wrote it when i was 14. secretly. kind of before my mom died."

"why didn't you tell me you could write music?" he almost sounds offended.

"i dont know-- at the time you hadn't even started your band with reggie and alex yet, and that was like..your thing, and i just couldn't handle doing music again!" tears filled the bottom of your eyes as you tried to explain.

he steps towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you, caressing the back of your head as he holds it so his chest, stroking it with his thumb gently.

"shhh, sh. you don't have to explain anymore." his voice is gentle and warm. "i get it. but, music isn't something i own, okay? i wish you would have told me earlier, and i dont know how i didnt notice this before."

a sob accidentally escapes into his chest, and luke feels his heart slowly sink into the floor. he was a tough guy, but he would always let his guard down for you.

he rubs your back in comforting circles, "its okay, yeah? this is a good thing. its a great thing."

he tucks your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as you look up at him with swollen eyes and a slightly runny nose, luke speaking to you in a low and comforting voice. "you are so beyond talented. You know what im thinking?"

you shake your head softly, with a small sniffle.

"you need to be our singer for the band." he looks at you and titls his head like he already knows what you're going to say. "n' before you say no, think about it. you could do it in honor of your mom? y/n, look at you. you have crazy chemistry with a song you haven't even tried playing in years. you could play your keyboard? its waiting for you in the guest house. It would be practically wasting this amazing gift you have. and i cant let you do that. you know it, too."

"luke-" you almost whimper from the thought of playing music...all of the time. not just when you had sudden courage, like..all the time.

"please." he begs, "you dont have to decide or anything right now...just..think about it?" he looks down at you with those same eyes. "for me?" he bites his lower lip with a small smile.

"fine." you barely say. he almost jumps from excitement and hisses in victory before putting his hands on your shoulders and looks at you in the eyes. "you wont regret it."

"luke, what if-" you stop. "what if i fail? like, im not as good as i used to be? i havent even tried writing songs again-"

"from what i heard today? the like, one minute of you just...singing, and playing, was-- like, crazy good and thats more than what regs and alex and i could ever even dream of." he smiles, his dimples peaking out like a deer in headlights, "it would be totally awesome if you could join our band. Like an honor."

as you look at him speak you bite your lips nervously, and let out a shaky "okay."

he towers over you, taking a step closer and looking in both of your eyes, you could feel his warm breath dripping down your neck.

there was a silence as you look into both of his eyes back, smiling back slightly

"there's that smile."

he leans in slightly, you breathing out, and then looking down as your tone becomes quieter.

"we shouldn't do this." you whisper.

he makes you look at him by putting his finger under your chin.

"we definitely shouldn't do this." he breathes, trying not to smile.

"definitely." you say, him matching your expression.

"definitely." his breath catches in the air.

your lips meet his as he gently backs you into a wall, picking your legs up and holding them with his palms up like a feather.

you feel his warm lips lock against yours over and over.

"y/n," he takes a breath out, finally pulling away making a small click sound from your lips seperating.

"yeah?" you gasp for air.

"i love you." he chokes on his words, "i know its soon. i know. you dont have to say it back." he swallows. "i just thought you should know. n' like - its totally cool if-"

"i love you too, luke."

his eyes meet yours again, this time his eyebrows slightly furrowed, "for real?" a smile quickly creeps up on his face.

you gently nod your head as he kisses your lips again once more.

"i-i dont know its like- when i saw you playing, and- it was just-" he pauses, laughing and shaking his head.

"you're so talented. so real. like, down to it, real."

he looks at you with his soft eyes, kissing your forehead.

"your hole's filled now, y/n."

your eyes widen in surpise, "how did you--"

he rolls his eyes and tuts, "cm'on, seriously? i know you better than you know you."

a little smile appears on your face. it really was him all along. he knew after you played again you got the spark in your eyes back that you had when you met him and you were now the same girl he fell in love with all over again since he was ten.

he runs his thumb over your jaw. "that spark, right here?" he puts his hand off your chin and presses a fist gently to your rib. "right there."

"you're back."

you giggle softly, "im back."

divider creds to @benkeibear my nav ★

[littlemissaddict]

So this idea came to me while I couldn’t sleep last night, I've not used any names so you can imagine whoever when you read it although I originally had Steve in mind.

You lay there content under the covers, your new puppy snuggled up next to you already asleep and the only thing you were missing now was your boyfriend. He had said he wouldn't be long but that seemed like forever ago even though it probably wasn't, just you over tired brain making it seem like it.

When you finally heard him enter the room, you couldn't help but smile and expect him to slide into the bed next to you. Although that never comes and as you lift your head off the pillow to see him staring down at you unamused. "And where am I supposed to sleep?" He asks, arms crossed over his chest.

"Right here" you mumble, your hand patting the space of his usual side of the bed.

"In that tiny little gap? I thought we had discussed this, she's not to sleep on the bed" he counters, referencing your earlier talk (argument?) about the puppy on the bed.

"I never agreed to that" you point out, "and besides she's comfortable do we have to move her" you pout up at him, hoping that he'd break as he usually did and give into you.

"Yes come on" he confirms, getting her attention and encouraging her to follow him to the specially bought, very expensive, dog bed.

"Meanie" you mumble as he finally gets into bed with you.

"Oh behave, you get too warm to sleep with just me in the bed, imagine how much warmer it'll be with a dog" he tries to reason with you but you still don't want to agree with him. "Trust me you'll thank me in the morning" he yawns, settling down and closing his eyes.

You fight sleep for a while knowing how quickly he normally falls asleep and when his breath seems to have evened out is when you call for her but you were wrong.

"No" he warns, surprising you even though you shouldn't be. He knows you well, too well, to know that you would try something like that. "I know you feel sorry for her but look she's already asleep so that very expensive bed that you picked out specifically for her must be comfortable" he tries to be the voice of reason again and you can feel yourself giving in or maybe you were too tired to argue.

"But she's just a baby she shouldn't be sleeping on the floor" you pout at him again.

"She's fine, now come on, let's get some sleep ourselves," he soothes as you mumble something about tomorrow and he just smiles at your stubbornness. He's also slightly amused at how easily you've fallen asleep as soon as you've closed your eyes.

Bonus: He lasts a week before he caves from your persistence, letting 'your baby' sleep on the bed.

[stargazing-dreamer-girl]

After the show

Pairing: alive!Reggie Peters x reader

WC: 3.2k

Summary: After being away for a few months you were finally back in Los Angeles, just in time to watch your best friend Julie perform with her band. The first time you got to see them live and get to meet them, including the cute bass player.

A/N: Here's something new which probably nobody still counted on getting from me hahah but writing has always helped me cope with some stuff and even though I hadn't pictured myself returning to this, here I am, dealing with life problems by escaping into fanfictions. So, I hope you guys still read it and like it!!

It had been a while since you saw Julie last. You had lived with your dad last semester while your mom had to go abroad for work. That left you at the other side of the country, a six-hour flight away from your best friend and your normal life.

Of course, staying at your dad's wasn't the worst. You got along great. One of the only plus sides of that move was that you could spend more time together, but you also had to get used to a new place and new people. And you missed your friends dearly. Daily Facetime calls to Julie and Flynn kept you going, but those declined in frequency as well. Everybody got busy, so these past few weeks it had been, at most, one call a week. With your upcoming move back home to California, Julie's successful debut with her band and Flynn managing them, there hadn't been a lot of time. Until now.

You were finally back in California, basking in the Los Angeles sun. The hot sand beneath your feet warmed your soul. A content smile graced your face while you were waiting for Julie and Flynn to join you. This felt like home. Definitely.

Your serene moment got interrupted as someone practically fell into you, making you tumble forward a few steps. You were able to keep standing with arms still wrapped around you. With them came a squeak and the call of your name before the figure, which turned out to be Julie, came around to your front. As soon as you saw that familiar face you pulled her into your arms again. Yep, home. "Oh my God, I missed you so much!", you said, squeezing her once more.

"Same! I can't believe you're back! Finally!" The two of you let go of each other and settled onto the sand. "Tell me everything!"

"Well, you already know basically everything," you laughed. "I mean, the last time we talked wasn't even 24 hours ago."

"I know!" Julie took ahold of your shoulders and shook you. "Way too long! I need a play-by-play of your flight."

"Uhm ok, so, when I got to the airport..." And so you told Julie everything that happened at the airport, on your flight, at the reunion with your mom, the ride home, just everything up until the point where she had joined you at the beach. "When is Flynn coming by the way? Shouldn't she be here already?" You looked around hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl amidst the other beach-goers.

"Oh yes, I forgot to say! She actually had to hang back for a bit. She was able to get us a gig tonight, totally last minute, so she had to organize some stuff, but you'll see her later when you come to the show."

"Oh, so I'm invited, huh?" You bumped her shoulder.

"Of course, you are! We made sure to have you put on the guestlist. Then you can also meet the rest of the band! They're so excited to meet you. I mean, Flynn and I always talk about you, so they're always on us about when they actually get to meet you." She laughed at the dorkiness of her friends.

She could still picture the first time you were brought up in conversation in front of them. Flynn had been late to watching the practice and when she finally did come in, she looked a little distraught. Julie had asked her what was wrong, but didn't expect that the reason for her distress was actually your distress. You had just broken up with your partner who was not ready to commit to long-distance, even just for a while, so you had called your friends in tears. The boys had immediately told Julie and Flynn to not worry about practice and call you back and be there for you. Since then, you had been topic of conversation a few times.

"Actually," she continued, "Reggie could not shut up about you being at the show today since we found out it's happening, so you can't disappoint my bassist by not showing up." Julie wiggled her eyebrows at you. That's what you get for one time mentioning that you thought the dark-haired bassist was cute and asking about him. You had kept up with Julie's band, watched all their music videos and the private photos and videos that Julie had sent you.

You felt a warmth spread over your neck and cheeks, slighty embarassed by the teasing. "Oh please, Julie, shut up." You chuckled and looked out at the waves crashing onto the beach. "Of course, I'll be there. I'm super excited to meet the band, too. And to see you perform live!" Looking back at her, you saw the spark in her eyes that had been lost for so long after her mother's death, but there it was, portraying her excitement for making and sharing her music.

The moment got interrupted by an alarm sound coming out of Julie's pocket. "Oh ok, that's me. I actually have to run now," she said while standing up and silencing her phone. "I need to prepare for the show, but I'll text you all the details and will see you there tonight! Ok, bye, love you!" She shouted over her shoulder while already walking away in a hurry. You laughed to yourself at her behavior. It hadn't changed in all this time. You stayed at the beach for a few more minutes, before deciding to go home and get ready yourself.

You looked in awe at the line in front of the club the band was playing at tonight. So many people were here to see your friend perform. It was crazy. And you actually got to walk past all these people to tell the bouncer your name and be let in before all of them. The whole experience was so surreal, but it was everything you had ever hoped for your friend. Inside was already pretty packed as well but Flynn had texted you where to find her, so you made your way through the crowd to the roped-off area at the side which was slightly elevated. You once again gave your name to the woman standing there. She scanned her clipboard before she moved aside to let you in.

You spotted Flynn pretty easily in her eye-catching outfit. She was sitting in the far corner, closest to the stage, typing away on her phone. You walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey there, stranger!"

She turned around quickly. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there before she jumped out of her seat with a wide smile on her face. "You're here!" She pulled you into a hug. "It's so good to see you! Wait, let me look at you!" You were pushed an arms-length away, so that she could check you out from head to toe. "And you look amazing! Perfect! Show-stopping!"

"Well, I hope not. I did come here to watch the show after all." You took the seat next to Flynn's, catching up with her until the lights dimmed and the show started. You and Flynn immediately got up from your seats as the stage lights came on and illuminated your friend and the rest of the band. Julie's gaze quickly flickered up to where you and Flynn were standing before she started playing the first notes of the song. Actual tears sprung to your eyes as you watched your friend live her dream. You were so proud of her.

You watched her interact with the other band members while performing. They all seemed to have so much fun on stage and you could clearly see their passion for music shining through. More than once did your eyes glance over to the bassist. You had to admit that Reggie looked even better in person than on the screen. He had to know what he was doing when he put on that leather jacket for the performance. Damn.

When the show ended, you actually felt out of breath from all the dancing and jumping and singing along you did with Flynn. The whole concert was so much fun and you could not get rid of the smile on your lips. "So, I am in charge of getting you to Julie's for the after-show party," Flynn turned to you and explained.

"Wait, there's an actual after show party at Julie's? And her dad's fine with it?"

"Yeah, it's just a few people and as long as we clean up and don't make too much noise, he's chill. So, you coming?" Flynn held out a hand for you to take and then skillfully maneuvered you through the crowd. The ride to Julie's turned out to be Flynn's mom who greeted you with a hug. You three chatted for the whole ride, mainly about your last semester and the show, before she dropped you off at Julie's. Before driving off she reminded Flynn to be respectful and considerate of the people living in the house to which Flynn rolled her eyes, but promised to be on her best behavior.

After her mom was gone, she turned to you. "Ok, come on, we need to get some snacks and drinks out before the others arrive." She led you to the garage, which you hadn't entered in what felt like years, and pulled the doors wide open. The lights turned on and as you looked around you realized that not much had changed, except for some trinkets being strewn about here and there. You quickly helped Flynn get some drinks out of the mini fridge and onto the table as well as some snacks when the first few people already started arriving. You easily recognized Nick, one of the first to enter the garage. He hadn't changed much from when you last saw him, still had the same Golden Retriever look to him. Carrie was also easy to spot. She spotted the two of you instantly and came over to greet you. From your calls with Julie and Flynn you were already aware that the feud had ended and there was some kind of friendship blossoming now.

"Hi, girls!" She greeted both of you with a hug before she turned to you. "It's nice to see you! How long have you been back?"

"Oh, just today actually. Been quite a busy day." You made some more small talk with her while other guests arrived and Flynn went off to greet them. It wasn't long until the conersations stopped to greet the arriving band with a round of hollers and applause. The guitarist, Luke, you knew, basked in the applause, entering the garage with raised arms and a grin, ready to high-five his friends that were waiting for him. Julie, Reggie and Alex followed. They had the same grin on their faces, the performance high, but passed up on the high-fives.

Carrie excused herself, but you didn't stay standing alone for long as Julie spotted you and pulled Alex and Reggie over to you. "Guys, I want you to meet someone," she exclaimed and proudly introduced you.

Aley was the first to speak up. He had a nice smile on his face. "Hi! It's really nice to meet you! I'm Alex. Julie has told us so much about you, it's like meeting a legend." Julie hit him in the arm for that comment. "Hey! What? It's true! You're always talking about her like she's a celebrity or some kind of myth. No wonder Reggie-" He got cut off by another hit in the arm, this time from the bassist. "Alright, fine, I'll stop stalking! Anyway, nice to meet you. I'm gonna go over there to my boyfriend." He turned and walked right into the arms of a long-haired guy on the other side of the garage who had been engaged in a conversation with Luke.

You turned back to the other two still standing with you, holding back a laugh. Your gaze fell onto the one who had yet to introduce himself. His eyes were still trained on Alex' back, but as he turned towards you, he realized that your focus was already on him and his cheeks turned red. It only took him a moment to regain his cool though. "I'm Reggie. Nice to meet you!" His eyes trailed your body once over. He shot you a smile. "I can't believe you're even prettier in real life than in the pictures." That earned him another smack against the arm from Julie. He yelped. "Hey! That's not how you treat your bassist!"

"Whatever, go get Luke, I want to introduce him, too!" Rubbing his arm he left, pouting, to get the guitarist. As soon as Reggie said a few words to him, he came jumping right over and put his arms around Julie's shoulder, placing a kiss on her cheek. She chuckled a little at the display of affection. "Luke, I wanna introduce you to-"

He cut her off, saying your name himself. "You talk so much about her. How could I not know?!" He smiled brightly and pulled you into a hug. "Great to finally meet you! How did you like the show?"

"Ah, it was amazing! You all looked so great out there! I had so much fun and everything sounded great! You even played my favorite song," you admitted.

"Oh, and which one is that?" You told him your favorite song, him nodding along to your answer. "Yeah, great taste you got there!" He looked around the room as a group of guys called his name. "Alright, I gotta go entertain for a bit, but we'll definitely catch up soon!" He promised with a wink and another kiss to Julie's cheek.

"Is he always like that?" You asked her.

"Most of the time." She nodded before breaking out into a laugh which you joined.

At some later point in the evening you found yourself on the couch with a drink in your hand. Reggie let himself fall into the seat next to you. "Hi there!" You smiled at him.

"Hi!" The small smile he gave you made him look even cuter. "Sitting here all by yourself?"

"Well, I was just waiting for you to come keep me company."

"Oh." That took him by suprise. "Here I am!"

You tilted your head to the side a bit, taking him in some more. He was still wearing the leather jacket you liked so much during the show with a simple white shirt below it and a pair of jeans. "I really liked to watch you play. I wanted to tell you that before, but you left so quickly."

"Ah, thank you! Yeah." He rubbed his neck as his cheeks turned pink. "Sorry that I left so quickly. I actually did want to talk to you some more! Julie told us you were coming to watch us play, so I- we put some extra effort into making this show amazing!"

"You certainly did! How long have you been playing bass for?"

"So long I can barely remember. I learned the guitar first though," he admitted.

"So you play the guitar as well, wow! I've never had any musical ability. Julie's mom tried to teach me to play the piano a long time ago, but it was completely hopeless." You chuckled at the memory. It was right in this room so many years ago.

"Maybe the piano just wasn't the right instrument for you? I can teach you some guitar if you want. Or bass, if you prefer."

"Alright, I'll hold you to it, but really don't get your hopes up. It might end in an absolute disaster," you joked. "Let me actually give you my number, so we can set a date."

"Oh yeah, totally!" He pulled out his phone and opened it to a new contact. You put your number in and called yourself right after saving it.

"Now I have your number as well." You smiled at him before saving the number into your phone as 'that cute bassist'. You hoped he had seen the name but when you looked back at him his eyes were trained on your face.

An hour moved by as you kept sitting on that couch, talking and laughing with Reggie. Luke, Alex and Julie had each come over for a few minutes but left fairly quickly to give the two of you some space.

"Hey, do you want to get some fresh air? It's getting a bit stuffy in here," you suggested to which Reggie agreed. The doors had been closed by now to keep the noise from reaching the neighbors, so that you hadn't noticed it'd gotten a bit chilly. Before you could say or do anything Reggie already took off his jacket and laid it over your shoulders. You pulled it on tighter as you took a seat on the stairs, the smell of the leather enveloping you. It smelled good, you imagined Reggie to smell distinctly of the jacket as well.

"Can I ask you a question?" He asked warily.

"Of course." You assured him, placing a hand on his thigh.

His eyes fell from your face to your hand. "Are you flirting with me? Like, are you actually hitting on me?" His hopeful eyes found yours again as your smile turned wider.

"Yes, Reggie, I have been all evening."

"Oh, ok, good, so I didn't misinterpret anything." He laughed a little and placed his hand over yours that was still lying on his thigh. "You see, I think you're really pretty. I've thought that since Julie and Flynn showed us pictures of you for the first time. And now I know, you're really funny, too, and I'm just totally blown away by you, so I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me?"

"I would like that a lot, yes. You lnow, I've had this little crush on you for a while now that Julie and Flynn have been making fun of me for. There's something about you that really draws me in." You bit your lip, taking Reggie's attention from your eyes to your lips.

"So, uhm, can I kiss you right now?" He asked.

Your lips spread into a wider smile as you shuffled closer to him on the stairs. "Yes, Reggie, I'd love that." There wasn't much of a gap between your faces anymore now, but he took his sweet time letting you feel his breath on your lips before finally connecting them. His lips moved softly against yours. He squeezed your hand on his thigh and brought the other one up to cradle your face.

You pulled back a little to catch your breath. When there was a crash from inside the garage your gaze quickly flicked to the door to check if anyone was coming out. When nobody did, you turned back to Reggie. "Do you wanna go back inside or keep doing this?" You asked him, hoping for the latter.

"I think, I'd rather stay out here a bit longer." He smiled before catching your lips in another kiss under the starlit sky.

[peachiejeongin]

The Phantoms Part 2: Wake Up | Bang Chan

Part 1 | Part 2 (You are here) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Synopsis: It was supposed to be a huge night for Chan, Changbin, and Han; they would be playing their biggest show yet at the Orpheum! Yet, it all slipped from their grasp within a matter of a few seconds, as all three passed away just hours before the show. What happens when they end up on their old garage floor and meet a someone who can make their dreams come true again?

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader [Occurs somewhat in this chapter]

Genre: Julie and the Phantoms/3RACHA AU, Crack, Angst, Fluffy Moments

Warnings: Mentions of death, grief and loss of a parent, slight bullying

Notice: Hello, my loves! I decided to split episode one into two chapters so it would not be as long! I feel as if this part is a bit repetitive and perhaps a tad rushed, so I do apologize :,) I would also like to clarify that a few aspects of the plot have been edited or removed to fit the concept of this imagine and for brevity! As always, I do NOT own the rights to 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor any of its characters!!! Enjoy the story!

"Alright, we have one final performance. Y/n?"

The sound of your name snapped you out of your daydream, your pen freezing mid-doodle on the back of your sheet music. The teacher's eyes were fixed on you, expectant and unyielding. Panic shot through your chest like a jolt of electricity. You had been counting on the bell to save you, to delay your performance just one more day; however, it seemed as if luck was not on your side.

Growing up, you loved music; your mom, ever so patient and passionate, had taught you how to play every instrument possible, from piano to guitar even going so far as to learn a few drum beats to turn you into the ultimate musical prodigy. Of the plethora of instruments, piano was your speciality; your mother always joked that you could play a Mozart composition with your eyes closed. Music was always the niche for you and your mom.

Now, your mom had passed away, and with her died your passion for playing.

Your newfound disdain for music had not just seeped into your personal lift; it was starting to dismantle the diligent work you had put into your high school’s prestigious music program, one you had worked tirelessly to get into. Motivation to participate in performances, showcases, or even simple rehearsals had evaporated, leaving you adrift. The consequences of your disengagement were becoming painfully clear. Just yesterday morning, the program’s director had pulled you aside, her tone sharp and uncompromising. She made it clear: if you did not perform in this week’s showcase, you would be removed from the program.

Thus, you found yourself rising from your seat in class, the screech of the chair legs pushing back cutting through the silence of the classroom. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, each beat seeming as if it were a signal of the impending doom ahead. You dragged your feet against the ground, anxiously gazing at the piano placed directly in the center of the classroom; the class's gaze followed your heavy, hesitant steps. As you reached the instrument, your trembling hands fumbled with the sheet music, placing it on the stand with an almost imperceptible shake.

"It's okay, y/n," your teacher gave your back a slight pat. "Take your time."

Her words echoed in your mind, yet they did little to ease the dreading ache in your heart; you felt as if every action you took was being rerecorded in slow motion. You hesitantly sat down on the piano bench, the familiar creak of the wood grounding you momentarily. You shakily adjusted your sheet music, perfectly aligning the papers. Your hands shook lightly as you hovered your fingers over the piano keys, hesitating in your dormant abilities, perhaps even questioning them. The weight of expectation bore down on your shoulders, and you felt a pricking sting in the corners of your eyes; tears were threatening to spill over into the vulnerability you were trying so desperately to suppress.

In that moment, all you could think of was yourself as a little girl, perched on your mom's lap. You remembered the warmth of her hands as she gently guided your small fingers to the keys, her voice soft and encouraging as she taught you your first ever composition. The memory was so vivid, it almost felt as if you could hear her voice again, but your heart aching pulled you back into the present.

Your fingers twitched as you attempted to play a note, but your hands came into contact with your lap instead of the instrument, frozen in hesitation. You let out a deep, aggravated sigh and hung your head down, the pressure of your failure too much to bear.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled to your instructor. "I can't do this." The teacher's gaze saddened, her sorrowful expression laced with understanding. She gave a small, sympahtetic nod before gently instructing you to head back to your seat. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hurriedly gathered your music sheets, the papers messily fixated in your grip. Keeping your eyes fixed on the floor, you quickly navigated your way back to your chair, where your best friend, Flynn, waited. Her presence was postulating and comforting, offering quiet reassurance as you sank into the seat besides him.

"Hey, it's okay." Flynn reached out, her hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. Her demeanor was mellow, a blend of sadness and empathy as she leaned closer. "You tried. That's all that matters."

"Is this the part where we clap?" A shrill, grating voice pierced your ears. There was no mistaking it; it belonged to Carrie, your ex-best friend, who seemed to envy your every breath.

"Watch it, Carrie," Flynn warned, side eyeing her deviously as the bell to dismiss class sounded.

It was surreal to think Carrie had once been your closest friend, someone you entrusted every secret with. Yet, everything changed when her father struck gold; he was a musician, and an incredibly famous one at that. The release of his first album catapulted him, and subsequently his daughter, into a wealthy lifestyle; this newfound luxury altered Carrie entirely. The warmth and loyalty you once knew were replaced by traits of arrogance and a biting jealousy that only grew with time.

Flynn motioned for you to walk with her, but you stayed behind for a minute, dejectedly looking towards the teacher. She gave a sad smile, her eyes conveying her despondent tone before she even spoke.

"I'll miss, you, y/n."

---

You pushed open the front door of your home, the familiar squeak of the frame echoing in the quiet entryway. With a weary exhale, you shrugged off your backpack and tossed it down in the corner of the living room, not bothering to check if it landed upright. The events of the day replayed begrudgingly in your mind as you trudged your way towards the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Oh good!" you heard your father exclaim from the kitchen. "You're home. I was about to go watch your brother's game, but then I got a phone call." As you reached the top of the steps, you paused and turned around, your gaze landing on your father's stance in the doorway; he had his camera in hand, yet the familiar device seemed almost out of place with the tension rising in the atmosphere. His expression was undeterminable, but the weight of his stare made your stomach churn with guilt. A regretful look crossed your face, figuring he already knew about your removal. from the music program

"Yeah, I figured as much," you confessed, your eyes glued to the ground.

"Well, it was my realtor friend."

A wave of relief washed over you, the weight on your shoulders lightening; for a fleeting moment, you were grateful for the small miracle. Yet, as you looked up at him and noticed the optimism on his face, a knot tightened in your stomach. Taking into account the gravity of his statement made your solace disappate.

"Oh, right. That." In hindsight, this phone call was not any better. Since your mom's passing, your dad had constantly brought up selling the house, convinced it was the best way to get a, "fresh start." He thought moving away from the place that held so many memories of her would help him escape the grief that lingered in every room. But to you, this house was more than four walls; it was the last place where everything still felt whole, where her presence could still be felt.

"Yeah, and she says if we are serious about selling the house, then she wants me to take some pictures for the website." He motioned to his camera briefly. "Which means we'll have to do a lot of cleaning and get rid of some stuff, and I was hoping maybe," he stopped speaking for a moment, taking what seemed like a reluctant breath, "you could tackle mom's studio? I mean, you're the expert. Your brother and I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Your eyes widened and your gaze was back to staring at your shoes. You felt a lump in your throat as you anxiously pondered the idea.

Since your mom’s passing, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to step back into the garage she had lovingly transformed into her music studio. The guitars stood untouched, their strings quietly gathering dust. The drum kit sat still, its once lively rhythm now replaced by the soft whispers of the wind. Even the piano keys, once vibrant under her fingertips, were now dulled by neglect. You had tried to go back once, but the memories overwhelmed you before you even reached the stone path leading to the building. Now, knowing that your family home, and your mom’s studio along with it, would soon be sold made the weight in your chest unbearable. The thought of losing this last physical connection to her filled your mind with an ache you couldn’t shake. Your dad, watching you wrestle with the turmoil, caught onto your fearful hesitation, his expression softening as if he could sense the storm raging inside you.

"Honey, if you don't want to, it's okay," he reassured you. "I can always-"

"No, it's fine," you interjected. "I'll start on it tonight." You nodded, a blend of hesitance and determination flickering across your face. Deep down, you were not sure if you were sure that ready to face the ghosts of your past, but you were sure that you were tired of letting fear hold you back. Even if the weight of your emotions felt insurmountable, you knew you could not let cowardice define you, not when it came to your mom’s musical legacy. You at least owed it to her to honor her craft. You had to do this.

"Yeah?" your dad inquired hopefully. You nodded your head and your dad clasped his hands together in delight. "Awesome, sweetheart, thank you!" He made his way to the front door before suddenly stopping and turning back to you. "And uh, don't forget the loft. You know those old instruments that were there when we moved in? Like, the drumkit and the red bass and such? They need a new home."

"Mom would like that," you agreed, reminiscing on your mom's kind heart.

"Yeah, she would." Your dad checked his wrist-watch, his solumn expression quickly changing into one of worry. "Oh no, I am going to be late." He scrambled around the living room in search of his car keys.

"On the counter," you called to him; his gaze shifted to the countertop in the kitchen, and he caught sight of the silver key ring.

"You're a lifesaver!" He snatched his keys and shot a playful finger gun towards you as he made his way out the front door.

---

Night time came much too fast.

You begrudgingly trekked down the cobblestone path leading to your mom's studio. The night was quiet, the stars and moon being the only sources of illumination down the path. Your hand quivered as you reached for the door handle; you paused for a moment as you fully grasped the handle, taking a deep breath before opening the door and flicking on the light switch.

The studio looked untouched, frozen in time, exactly as it had been the last time you stepped inside with your mom. The faint scent of wood polish and sheet music still lingered in the air, like a fragile whisper of the past. You stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in, your eyes scanning the familiar space as if seeing it for the first time. Every detail, from the neatly stacked sheet music, to the instruments resting in their usual places, felt both comforting and saddening; it was a bittersweet reminder of a world you could not bring yourself to fully return to.

Your feet carried you to the piano first, your finger absently tracing a line through the thin layer of dust that had settled on the keys. The instrument, once vibrant with life, now seemed like a relic of a distant past. Your gaze drifted to the small table beside it, landing on a framed photo that had remained untouched. It was a picture of you and your mom, taken on a sunny day at the amusement park. The two of you were grinning ear to ear, your laughter practically radiating from the image. Now, the sight of those bright beams brought a hollow ache in your chest. You picked up the photo, the cool metal of the frame grounding you as your thumb gently brushed over its corner.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," you regretfully apologized as you made eye contact with her photograph. "I'm sorry I haven't been out here." You delicately sat down the picture frame and made your way to the opposite corner of the room. Here lay your mom's "treasure chest," as she referred to it. Truthfully, it was a chest that contained all of her collectibles from over the years, from music albums to band t-shirts she had decorated with shimmering sequins and jewels.

Curiosity tugged at you as you knelt before the chest, its lid creaking slightly as you pushed it open. You began sifting through the items inside, each one layered with the dust of forgotten time. Your fingers brushed over fabric, paper, and finally something smooth and hard. Your nails clinked against the plastic, piquing your interest. Gripping the object, you pulled it free and held it up to the light; it was a CD encasing. Its cover was black with bold, curving white letters spelling out the band’s name across the front.

"3RACHA."

'"I guess some music while I'm cleaning wouldn't hurt," you thought aloud. You walked over to the coffee table, sat in front of the brown, leather couch in the center of the studio; sat atop the table was a retro CD player your mom had found at a garage sale about five or so years ago. Carefully, you removed the disc from its casing and deposited it into the player, pressing the play button once it was fully inserted. You began making your way up to the loft, deciding to tackle that area first as the music began to play...

"Take off Last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge..."

It was here that the music began to sound a bit strange. The melody began to warp, becoming almost unrecognizable as it was gradually overtaken by a disturbing sound that sounded like...screaming? At first faint, it quickly swelled, rising to an unbearable intensity that made your skin crawl. The screeching noise clawed at your senses, so sharp and overwhelming that you instinctively clamped your hands over your ears, desperate to block it out.

There was a flash of light, and three guys appeared on the garage floor out of nowhere. They groaned in pain, their bodies stiff as if waking from a long slumber. You let out a bewildered gasp, the scene before you surreal. The three of them got to their feet, their eyes wide as they took in their new surroundings. They looked around, dazed and amazed

"Woah!" the middle one spoke, his tone laced with a moderate Australian accent. "Woah! How did we get back here?" he inquired to nobody in particular, pointing at every facet in the studio.

A horrified, prolonged scream escaped your mouth before you could comprehend the sight in front of you, causing all three boys to look at you; fear was present in all three of their gazes as well. Before you knew it, they were screaming as well, squirming around in terror and holding onto each other for dear life. You were still shrieking as you ran out of the studio, fleeing back to your house as fast as your legs could carry you. You only ceased your sprint when you ran into your dad.

"Woah, slow down!" he chuckled while commanding. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I have!" you spit out without thinking, making your brother express his intrigue. You did not respond, however, fleeing up the porch stairs and running into your bedroom. You immediately pulled out your cell phone, texting Flynn your emergency code.

'SOS!'

---

"Come on, Flynn," you groaned as the minutes dragged by. "SOS means SOS! Why aren't you answering me?"

"Sweetheart?" you heard a knock at your door and squealed at the noise, instantly calming down once you saw that it was your dad. "Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were alright." He took a seat besides you on your bed, looking down at you concerned.

"You don't believe me, do you?" you inquired, your gaze intently focused on your pillows.

"Of course I do, honey," your dad responded. "I see your mom all the time!"

"This isn't like that."

"I know, it's different for everybody, but-"

"Dad, you're not listening to me!" you interrupted, exasperated out of frustration. "I saw something out there, something that wasn't mom."

"Okay, I'm sorry," your dad threw his hands up. "Tell me what you saw. Nobody else is listening, and this is not a judgmental environment."

"You sound like the psychiatrist," you told him bluntly.

"Yeah, well maybe seeing the psychiatrist again isn't such a bad idea," your dad attempted to crack a joke, but the comment riled you up further.

"Can we just drop this?!" you asked, your voice rising to an octave near a yell, the frustration and confusion in your words impossible to contain. Your dad let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he stood up, the weight of your question settling between you.

"Okay. Dropped."

---

You tried to talk yourself out of returning to your mom’s studio, but curiosity gnawed at you, pulling you back. You needed to understand what you had seen, to prove to yourself, and to your dad, that you were not losing your mind. With a hesitant breath, you made your way down the cobbled path until you stood before the familiar door of the studio. In your hands, you gripped a makeshift crucifix, hastily crafted from sticks

"Are you still here?" you quieried the empty building. "Whatever you are?" You spun in every direction, your eyes scanning the shadows and corners, searching for something—anything—that might explain what had just occurred. stopping when you turned back to the front entrance. When you finally turned back toward the front entrance, you saw nothing. The room was still, silent, as if it were mocking you. A wave of frustration washed over you, and with a defeated sigh, you dropped your hands, letting them fall to your sides. The emptiness around you felt suffocating, and you wondered if you were just imagining it all.

"I know I saw something, I'm not crazy!"

"Well, we're all a little crazy, mate." You heard the same Australian accent from earlier behind you; you swiftly circled around to see the same three boys standing behind you. They all had small smiles plastered on their faces. Reflexively, you began to scream once more, holding out the crucifix in front of you; this time, you were quickly shushed by the Australian boy.

"Please stop screaming!" he pleaded with you, and you did as demanded, albeit reluctantly.

"W-who are you?!" you interrogated. "What are you doing in my mom's studio?"

"Your mom's studio?" the Australian bewilderedly asked as he took a few steps toward you; you swiftly pointed the crucifix towards him, chasing him throughout the middle section of the garage as if he were some demonic being that was about to possess you.

"This is our studio! Trust me! Okay sure, the grand piano is new, and..." Your efforts caused the teenage boy to scramble over the aforementioned instrument; however, his attention quickly fixated on the couch. His eyes widened, seeming as if he was looking at an old friend for the first time.

"MY COUCH!" he yelled in delight as he threw himself onto the piece of furniture, kicking his feet up onto one of the arm rests. His eyes closed in a restful manner; when they opened once more, they trailed to the guitar beside the couch, the sight of which made him stand up once again. His eyebrows knit together as he pointed to the unfamiliar instrument. "But that is definitely not my six-string." He hurriedly shuffled back over to the other two, confusion rattling in his brain. "Give us a second," he gave you a brief, somewhat phony smile before turning around and forming a huddle with the guys. You listened in on their conversation:

"Guys! What is going on? How did she get her stuff in here so fast?"

"Maybe she's a witch? I mean, there are chairs on the ceiling," the shortest of the three suggested, pointing up at the ceiling; he was buffer than the other two, sporting a white, tight fitted t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a red flannel wrapped around his waist.

"Okay, witches aren't real," the boy who you could best describe as looking like a squirrel shook his head in disbelief; he had on a black backwards cap with a pink hoodie snug under a jean jacket.

"You sure? Because I used to think ghosts weren't real!"

"Fair point."

"Okay, so we're definitely going with witch," the Aussie decided, looking in between his mates for reassurance on the claim; he was wearing a white band tee with the sleeves cut off and a blue oversized jacket over top.

The buffer boy nodded his head in agreement; however, the squirrel knitted his eyebrows togehter, waving his hand dismissively in contrast.

"No, we are not! Okay, she is not a witch; she is clearly just scared. So let someone with a softer touch handle this!" He concluded his monologue with a sharp clap of his hands toward the other two, the sound echoing in the stillness. He began to approach you, his steps slow and deliberate, dragging as though he had all the time in the world. The air between you thickened, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he drew closer, his movements unhurried but somehow foreboding.

"Why are you in our studio?" he asked, accentuating his mouth in a strange motion. In a burst of sheer fear, you thrust the makeshift cross forward, driving it straight into his middle. You gasped in horror as the crucifix passed through his form as if he were nothing but a faint, shifting hologram.

"Oh my gosh!" you shrieked as you pulled the cross away; your panicked eyes flickered first to the cross, then horrifiedly shifted back to the boy. "How did you do that?!" He looked back at the other two narrowing his eyes out of conclusive annoyance.

"Okay, clearly, you're not getting it," he condescended, rubbing the corners of his eyes once he turned back towards you. "Okay, we are ghosts," he motioned to himself and the other two. "We're just three ghosts who have no idea how they got back home but they are really happy to be here! So thank you for the new decor, it really brightens up the room, but we've got it from here."

"We're actually in a band called 3RACHA," the Australian chimed in, causing you to swiftly adjust your head in order to get a good look at him while the shorter boy chimed in with, "Tell your friends!"

Woah, he was hot. Not in the typical high school heartthrob way, but more in the supernatural sense, like someone you would never expect to develop a crush on, yet here you were, inexplicably drawn to him. His smile was dazzling, cheeky, and almost too perfect, while his loose band tee couldn't quite hide the way his slim yet muscular frame moved with an effortless confidence. You found yourself lingering on every detail, but you snapped out of your daze when he spoke again, grounding yourself back in reality.

"Last night was supposed to be a huge night for us," he explained. "It was supposed to change our lives."

"I'm pretty sure it did," the short one responded, earning a flick on the back of the head from the Aussie. You were convinced you were losing it, even if everybody was, "all a little crazy."

"This is freaking me out," you exclaimed. In order to prove their claims, and reassure the doubt lingering in your gut, you pulled out your cellphone from the back pocket of your jeans.

"What is that? What are you doing?" The Australian peered over your shoulder, motioning to your cellphone.

"It's my phone," you started to expound, but quickly caught yourself, biting back the words before they could spill out. Instead, you shifted the conversation, turning the focus back to yourself with an awkward yet determined attempt to regain control. "Nope! Stop talking to them! They aren't real! There's no such thing as cute ghosts!"

"Aw, she thinks we're cute!" the shorter boy cooed. His adoring realization elicited a warning eye from you, prompting him to silence as he pressed his lips into a thin line. Your attention refocused on your phone, and you scrolled through social media applications and gaming selections until you found your search engine. Your fingers fidgeted as you typed the band's name into the search bar in a rushed manner.

"Who ya calling?" the boy with the squirrel-esque features inquired. You jerked your head up to face him, annoyance washing over you after being inquired for the second time that night.

"I'm googling the band Sriracha."

"THREEracha," all three of them corrected at the same time. You jumped back slightly, quickly correcting the name in the search bar. As soon as you typed in the band’s name, the first result that popped up was a news article titled, "3RACHA: A Hollywood Tragedy." Intrigued, you clicked the link, and within seconds, a photo of four boys appeared on the screen. Three of them were unmistakably the ones standing right in front of you.

"Okay! There is a 3RACHA." You spoke to yourself, relieved that this was not just your imagination. The three guys nodded as if to say, "Obviously!" You read the first paragraph of the article, which stated as follows:

"Last week the music industry lost an up and coming band that could have taken the world by storm and topped the charts. 3RACHA was a local band out of Hollywood having sold out its showcase on Saturday. Unfortunately, the band never made it to the stage. Three of its members, Chan, Han, and Changbin, tragically died when they ate bad street hot dogs. It was supposed to be their biggest night, opening live at the Orpheum Theater on the Sunset Strip. They were only 17. There was a surviving band member, Hyunjin, but no one has been able to track him down and talk to him about his friends dying that fateful night."

You focused particularly on the date the article was released: July 29, 1995.

"You did die," you muttered upon seeing it. "But not last night. You died 29 years ago." As the words fell from your mouth, all three boys exchanged glances, their faces twisted in confusion, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape in disbelief.

"What? No way. That's not possible. After we floated out of the ambulance, all we did was go to that dark room where Han cried." Upon the shorter boy's statement, the squirrel-esque boy began to stammer.

"Well," he prolonged his high-pitched voice. "I don't think, I think we were all pretty upset, y'know?"

"But that was only for like an hour," the Australian boy jerked his head up, the look in his eyes nothing short of perplexation. "We just showed up here."

"Look, I'm just telling you what my phone says." You turned your phone around so they could read the article for themselves. "You died in 1995 when you were all 17. It's now 2024. All three boys looked at each other, their expressions a mix of utter confusion, as if their very souls were trying to make sense of what was happening.

"So, it's been 29 years?" the squirrely boy raised his hands behind his head, his posture tense, as if he were on the verge of a breakdown. "I have been crying for 29 years?! How is this possible?!"

"Well, you're a very emotional person," the shortest attempted to put his hand on the boy's shoulder in hopes of comforting him, but it was immediately shrugged off.

"I AM NOT."

You sighed in frustration at the boys' conversation, turning to leave the studio. But before you stepped out, you paused and glanced back at them, your brow knitted in vexation.

"Look," you began sternly, "I am very sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn't your studio anymore. You need to leave." You attempted to exit again, but the Australian member called for you to wait.

"We never got your name," he tilted his head and slightly smiled in an attempt to be friendly.

"Y/n," you answered bluntly.

"Cool, I'm Chan..." he moved towards you, resulting in the crucifix being raised once again, "...by the way, and this is-"

"Changbin! Hey, I'm Changbin," the short, buff boy introduced himself, his soft voice not matching his build in the slightest.

"I'm Han, how's it going," the squirrel-esque male was the last the greet you. You shrugged your shoulders and pursed your lips.

"Okay?" you muttered, shaking your head before storming out of the studio. You slammed the door behind you, leaving the three boys standing there, dazed and speechless.

"Y/n seems nice!" Changbin beamed after a few seconds. Chan raised an eyebrow, a puzzled frown tugging at his lips, while Han’s gaze flickered between Changbin and him, clearly thrown off by the awkwardness of the situation.

"Did you miss the part where she kicked us out, Bin?"

---

After setting the table and blessing the food, you tried your best to settle into what should have been a normal family dinner. As normal as it could be, at least, considering the bizarre events of the day; after all, encountering three ghosts that no one would believe you about was not something you could easily put behind you. You poked at your plate absentmindedly, lost in your thoughts, when suddenly, you felt a hand clamp down on your shoulder. You jolted, glancing up to find your aunt standing behind you, her face serious. She had come over for dinner, but now her presence seemed even more weighty, as she leaned in and whispered how she needed to have an important conversation with you.

"Now, sweetie," she began sugarly, "I want you to know there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of?" Your eyes widened in alarm, a cold wave of realization washing over you. You could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air, and you knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

"Uh, that's so funny of you to say!" you tried to blow off the conversation.

"Well, honey," your aunt continued, her voice soft yet firm, "all I was going to say was that now that you aren't in the music program anymore, you can focus on your academics!" You let out a quiet breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your body unwinding with the release of tension. But as your eyes flickered toward your father, you immediately sensed the disappointment etched across his face, further proven by the way he dramatically cleared his throat. The action hung there like a shadow, unspoken but heavy, and it made the room feel colder. Your aunt looked at him, her expression etched with confusion.

"You got the email from the school, yes?" she asked.

"We're still discussing it," your dad replied harshly. His angry, piercing stare never left your solemn gaze, causing your heart to sink down to your stomach.

"Eh, no matter," your aunt dismissed. "Now, excuse me. I have to run to the restroom." She strutted away from the table, seemingly in attempts to escape the conversation she had started.

"So, when were you going to tell me?"

Before you could formulate a response, a sudden blast of rock music pierced through the air, reverberating from somewhere in the distance. The unmistakable beat of the guitar and heavy drums echoed from the garage, loud enough to drown out the quiet tension at the table. It was jarring, almost out of place, and it drew your attention away from the conversation.

"What is that?" your father inquired, his voice laced with alarm.

"Uh, I must have left the stereo on in the garage!" you exclaimed. "Let me go turn it off!" You darted out of the house and out of the conversation. Your heart raced as you made your way toward the garage, and as you rounded the corner, the noise grew louder. You froze for a moment, eyes wide, as you took in the sight of the three boys. They were completely immersed in their music, jamming out with an ease that left you speechless. Somehow, they had found their instruments and were tearing through an old rock song, the sound of their music filling the air like an electrifying presence.

"Guys, cut it out!" you yelled. They did not listen to you, however, drowning your command out with a crescendo of music. You rolled your eyes, reaching down to unplug Chan's guitar from the speaker; you threatened to do the same with Changbin's bass, but the music halted before you resorted to that measure. "The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you guys to leave." To your surprise, the band looked more delighted than depressed.

"People can hear us play?" Chan asked, a cheeky smile spreading across his face as he looked at you. His confidence was almost teasing, as if he were fully aware of the effect his music, and perhaps his presence, was having on you. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from blushing, your heart suddenly racing for reasons you could not quite explain. The playful glint in his eyes only made it harder to focus.

"Yes! My dad specifically!" you snapped, your voice a little sharper than you intended. You tried to mask the shy undertone with feigned anger, crossing your arms as if that might make the situation feel less awkward.

"So, only you can see us, but everybody can hear us?" Changbin asked rhetorically. "What kind of ghosts are we?!"

"Who cares man!" Chan yelled out enthusiastically. "People can hear us play!" The three of them came together at Han's drumset, fistbumping and high fiving one another.

"We may be dead, but our music isn't!" Han remarked. You sighed, frustration bubbling up as you stood there, irritated by the bizarre turn of events. Everything about this situation felt off, with your dad, and now the ghosts casually playing rock music in your garage. It was all too much to process, and yet, here you were, stuck in the middle of it all.

"Why can’t you guys be normal ghosts?!" you shouted, your voice higher and sharp with frustration. The words burst out before you could stop them, making all three boys flinch in surprise. "Hang out at an old mansion! I hear Pasadena’s nice!" Without waiting for a response, you stormed out of the studio, the door slamming behind you with a force that seemed to shake the walls.

"I've always wanted to go to Pasadena," Changbin muttered, completely oblivious to your frustration. Chan was the first to react, teleporting out of the garage with Han close behind him. Changbin, still lost in his Pasadena fantasies, followed after he snapped back to reality. Within seconds, all three of them appeared in front of you just as you reached the steps leading up to your house. You squealed in shock, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden appearance of the ghosts. But before they could say anything, annoyance quickly washed over you, the frustration you’d been holding back resurfacing in full force.

"What now?!" you asked them, your tone encapsulated by rage. You crossed your arms, your gaze impatiently moving between all three of them as you waited for an answer.

"Look, I know this is all completely insane," Chan began to tell you, "but you do know how rad this is? People, actual people can hear us play!" He was absolutely stoked, contrasting your sorrowful demeanor.

"Yeah, it's just I've just had a really, really awful day. I gotta go." You attempted to evade the pep-talk, but Chan began again before you could get too far.

"Well, I'm sorry you had a bad day, but three guys just found out that they had a bad 29 years," he retaliated, "and then they found out that the one thing they lived for in the first place they can still do. That's pretty rad."

"You're right. It's just..."

"Your bad day. Yeah. I know," Chan interjected. "Look, I'm sorry we came into your life, but what I just felt in there actually made me feel alive again. We all felt alive again. So, you can kick us out if you want, but we're not giving up music. We can play again. That's a gift no musician would ever turn down."

You sighed, the sound a mixture of irritation and a lingering sadness that weighed heavy in your chest. The frustration from earlier still simmered, but Chan’s words caught you off guard. "You gotta know that. Clearly, your mom was into music." His voice was gentle, almost too understanding, and it only made the ache in your heart grow stronger. You shifted your gaze from him to the ground, the quiet pressure of his statement settling in. It felt like a reminder you were not ready to hear.

"Was," you corrected softly, your voice catching slightly. "She passed away." The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The boys exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from playful to somber.

"I am... so sorry," Chan murmured, his voice filled with genuine regret. He moved as if to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, but his ghostly fingers passed straight through you, the gesture falling short. Despite the ethereal nature of his attempt, the warmth of his intention still made your heart skip a beat, leaving a strange mix of comfort and sadness swirling within you.

"Yeah, we didn't know," Han explained, his mind racing with panic.

"It's all right," you breathed out, regret now present in your voice. "You guys haven't seen her anywhere, have you? From wherever you're from." You figured they would not have, but it never hurts to ask.

"Um..." Chan hesitated. "No. No, I mean, you're kind of the first person we've seen."

"Yeah, but she's not dead, so it doesn't answer her question," Changbin put his two sense in, earning an irritated side-eye from Han.

"Yeah. I think she knows what we mean. I'm sorry for your loss," Chan commented once again, his eyes just as dejected as yours were.

"Thanks," you shook your head in understanding. "Sorry I got mad. You guys are kinda good."

"Kinda?" Chan sounded playfully offended. "Y-Y-You know that's like 29 years of rust just getting dusted off." For the first time since meeting the boys, you smiled at them, and your grin made Chan's eyes light up.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on you with an almost admiring intensity. He didn’t say anything more, until Han, with a knowing look, smacked his shoulder to snap him out of it. Chan blinked, visibly shaking himself from the moment. "Uh, do you play the piano too?" he asked, his voice suddenly more tentative, trying to shift the attention away from his earlier slip. The change in his tone was almost too obvious, but the question itself felt genuine.

You dithered slightly before responding: "No. No, I don't play. That was my mom's stuff in there. She's an amazing songwriter." You puzzled yourself by the lie, knowing full good and well you could play.

"She was," Chan nodded in agreement. You looked at him, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

"Wait. How would you know?"

"There's a song on the piano," Chan explained. "If it's hers, then your mom was really talented." His tone had a certain fondness to it, as if he knew your mother like an old friend; it made your face go hot. The compliment of your mother's abilities caused you to reconsider your prior statements.

"I guess," you began while grinning, "if you guys need a place to stay, you can stay here." The boys widened their eyes in delight, their mouths forming into bright grins. "There's a bathroom in the back and a couch that turns into a bed if you still use any of that stuff." Upon finishing your words, Changbin instantly threw his hand up.

"Dibs on the shower!" You side-eyed the boy but laughed at his strange actions. "I just really like showers and sometimes the occasional bath."

"You are so weird," Han commented while throwing an arm around the boy and leading him into the studio. Chan giggled at the actions of his bandmates before turning around to face you.

"Thank you, y/n," he nodded, his close-mouthed smile warm and sincere, as if your kindness meant more than words could express. "See you tomorrow?" His voice was gentle, a hint of hope behind it, but you could not bring yourself to meet his gaze. You looked down at the ground, your heart beating faster as your timidness took over.

"Yeah, you will," you finally nodded meekly; Chan bit his lip excitedly before joining Han and Changbin in the studio. You shook your head in disbelief, smiling at nothing in particular.

"This is too weird."

---

All night, you thought about what Chan had said:

"There's a song on the piano. If it's hers, then your mom was really talented."

What song could it have been? You thought back to all the songs your mom had written before her passing. She was undeniably talented, but most of them were not the kind that would have evoked such deep, overwhelming emotion. With this thought spinning in your head, you reluctantly woke up early for school the next morning. The darkness outside still held onto the quiet of night, the sun just beginning to grace the horizon with its pale light. You dressed quickly, your movements automatic as your mind continued to race. Despite the overwhelming sense of dread you felt every time you approached the studio, there was something else undeniable pulling you back. It was ironic, really, that this was your fourth visit to the studio in just two days, and yet it still felt like stepping into a place that had been off-limits for years. The weight of it all settled in your chest, but you could not shake the nagging feeling that you needed to be there.

You walked straight to the piano, the familiar coolness of the keys beneath your fingertips positioning you as you hesitated for only a moment before pressing your fingers gently against them. The sound was quiet, barely a whisper, but it was enough to settle your nerves. Your gaze quickly found the song Chan had mentioned, your eyes scanning over the notes as if searching for something you could not quite name.

This song was new; it was not like any other one your mom had taught you how to play. You read the lyrics, tearing up as each word resonated deep within your soul; it was almost as if this was her departing message to you. Your eyes flicked to the bottom of the page, a handwritten note from your mom reading: "Never give up, y/n. I love you, forever."

You sat down on the piano bench, your fingers finding the starting notes. Taking a deep breath, you began to play, adding your own rhythm as the melody unfolded. As your voice joined in, it felt natural, almost as if the song had always been inside you.

"Here's the one thing I want you to know You got someplace to go Life's a test yes But you go toe to toe You don't give up no you grow."

The lyrics poured out softly, carrying the weight of memories and emotions you hadn’t known you were ready to face. For a brief moment, it was as though your mom was right there with you, her presence lingering in the music.

"And you use your pain 'Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it"

The last line caused your voice to waver, the emotion swelling in your chest. You wished, more than anything, that your mom were here with you now—holding you through the grief that had been building for so long. The ache of her absence hit harder than ever, and for a moment, the music felt like the only connection left.

"I know it's not the same You got livin' to do And I just want you to do it

So get up, get out relight that spark You know the rest by heart"

The notes grew stronger as you reached the chorus, your fingers pressing the keys with growing intensity. A sense of pride swelled within you for your mother’s songwriting talent, and with it came a surge of confidence. As the music enveloped you, it felt like a reclamation of something you had lost, a reminder of your own strength through the melody she had left behind.

"Wake up, wake up if it's all you do Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost It's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain"

"Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up Wake up"

The sun began to rise over the treetops as you reached the bridge, its golden light spilling over the landscape. Unbeknownst to you, your father stood on the porch, bathed in that same light. His eyes sparkled with quiet joy, a soft smile on his lips as he listened to your voice carry through the air. In that moment, he knew: his daughter was back. The music had returned, and with it, the hope he had thought was lost.

"So wake that spirit spirit I wanna hear it hear it No need to fear it you're not alone You're gonna find your way home"

The final lyric soared into a high note, your own subtle twist on the song. With each note that filled the small studio, you felt your passion for playing reignite. The music flowed through you, every chord more powerful than the last. You finished with a dramatic low note, the sound lingering in the air. Your eyes remained fixed on the sheet music, drawn to the note at the bottom. You read it over and over, as if trying to unlock a secret it held just for you.

You did it. You woke up.

You woke up and rediscovered your love for music. You woke up from the long, paralyzing nightmare of your mother's death and escaped the grief that was holding you back. You woke up and found yourself, realizing who you were:

You were Rose's daughter, the child of a musical genius, and you were not going to let her legacy pass on with her.

You breathed in deeply, joyful tears filling your eyes as your heart pumped with a newfound courage.

In that moment, although you were not aware of it, four pairs of eyes shimmered...

[t-h-e-seance-tua]

I'm sorry (JATP One shot)

So here we go, turns out this has been sitting in my google drive for a while. I found it last night and finished it off. It might seem a little rushed, but time passes differently when you are in danger.

What actually happened after Luke, Alex, and Reggie ate those street dogs?

It was the tingling in his hands he noted first, it had started not long after he grabbed the hot dog.

He wished he hadn’t ignored it.

If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

He was kneeling beside Alex, who was screaming in pain. He was the first affected. He said his throat felt funny only one bite into the hot dog, now his throat was being burnt.

“Can someone call 911!” Luke tried to call out, but was starting to feel his own throat starting to burn. He watched as the man who had sold him the hotdogs pulled out his cell phone.

“Alex, hang on. They will be here soon!” Luke tried to comfort him. Alex didn’t reply, he couldn’t reply. He was curled up on his side, clutching his stomach. Suddenly, he began violently vomiting with no signs of stopping. He continued vomiting until splashes of red turned into a river of red.

“The hot dogs must have h-had battery acid on them,” Reggie said behind Luke. Luke turned to look at him and noticed he had started sweating. Luke could tell that Reggie wasn't okay, that the front he was seeing was fake. A pit started forming in Luke’s stomach as he realised this was serious. Luke tried to form words but suddenly was overtaken by a stabbing pain in his stomach. It came on so suddenly and painfully that he let out a scream.

“Luke!” Reggie yelled, worried for his friend. Luke tried to take deep breaths, to tame the pain but it didn't work. Instead, he put on a fake smile to make sure he didn't worry Reggie.

This can't be happening

“I'm all good, go, grab my drink. Quickly rinse your mouth out.” Luke told him, hoping it would rid Reggie's mouth of the battery acid.

Reggie nodded his head. He went to stand up but instead crumbled onto his knees before falling forward.

“Reggie!” Luke called out before making his way over, clutching his side. Reggie never responded. He felt down to Reggie’s chest and noted that it was rising and falling very slowly.

How was this happening? What was going on?

Luke tried shaking Reggie awake but he wouldn’t stir. He desperately tried pushing himself up from the ground to try and get back to Alex who had also fallen silent. His arms shook before his body collapsed onto the cold, damp street.

His mind began to run through everything. Everything he regretted. This was meant to be the biggest night of the career, of their lives. Instead, the young boy was lying face down in the dirty street, praying the pain would stop.

Why did he have to be so stubborn with his mom? He knew she only wanted what was best for him. After all, he was her only child.

Oh my god, mom.

Luke had suddenly had the realisation that he could quite possibly die on this street, and his mom would never know. His mom; the one that brought him into this world. The one that coaxed him from across the living room to take his first steps. The one that held tightly onto his hand as he walked into school on his first day. The one that bought him his first guitar. The one that had been there when Shirley, Luke’s first love, had broken his heart. The one who wanted the best life for Luke. The one that was worried that playing in a band wouldn’t support him enough on his own. His mother.

An anguished sob escaped his chest that hurt even more than the battery acid in his throat. He was so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed the figure walking towards him.

“Hey kid. You’re okay,” The figure tried to comfort him. The figure mimed taking in deep breaths, which Luke mimicked and stopped his sobbing. “What’s your name kid?”

“Luke,” He whispered, trying his best to curl up in a ball hoping to relieve the pain in his stomach.

“Luke, don’t you worry. We are going to get you sorted.” The figure said to him. He could feel something placed over his face.

"My mom, I need my mom." He cried again.

“Don’t worry, we will contact her when we get to the hospital,”

“No, she doesn’t know where I am.” He tried to say under the mask. He kept his eyes closed, hoping that when he opened them he would wake up at home. He could feel his body being moved onto something softer, and he gathered that he must have been loaded into the back of an ambulance.

The figure continued checking him over, and asking him questions that seemed silly for the situation.

What's your name? How old are you? What's the date today? What time is it roughly?

Luke laid there in the stretcher, shivering even though he was covered in blankets as the person continued to ask him questions. When there was a lull in the questions, he quickly jumped in.

“The other guys, where are they?” Luke finally got to ask the figure a question.

“They are being looked after by my buddies, don't you worry.”

The figure continued to poke and prod Luke. Just when Luke thought the pain was going away, another wave rippled through. He felt as if it was ripping his throat apart. Was it ripping his throat apart?

He screamed out in pain and tried to desperately roll onto his side, hoping he could curl up and lessen the pain.

“I'm sorry kid, you've got to stay on your back."

“Please make it s-stop, please I'm b-begging you!” He screamed.

“I've already given you morphine, I can't give you anymore.”

“P-Please, I want my mom,” he cried, trying to move out of the figure's grasp.

“Don't you worry kid, she'll be here soon. We are just pulling up to the hospital now.” The figure told him. He could hear the unclicking of seat belts, and parts of a static voice in the background.

“Attention all units that attended Sunset Boulevard. This is an update that one of the patients-”

“Alright kid, let's go,” the figure announced, loud enough to drown out the radio. Luke opened his eyes to see now 2 figures working around him, getting him ready to offload.

“I'm gonna be sick,” Luke whispered, but one of the figures heard him and quickly gave him a bag just in time to catch his stomach's contents. The figures seemed to work quickly now at getting the stretcher out of the truck, and rushing towards a set of doors, all while Luke continued the throw up. He dropped back down onto the bed, closing his eyes. He was too tired to open them as he was wheeled into the emergency room.

“3 young males, found in an alleyway after accidentally ingesting battery acid. This is Luke, he has been alert and oriented the whole time,” The paramedic began to say as Luke felt himself being wheeled in before they dropped their tone, in a way so they hoped that Luke couldn’t hear

“I’ve just received word from the other crews who should be here soon. One of the males has been unconscious and convulsing since they arrived on scene, the other male has died on route here."

If the pain in stomach wasn’t enough, Luke could now feel his heart shattering.

“W-What do you mean they died? They couldn’t have. Who was it?” He yelled. All they did was turn and stare at him. Luke pushed himself up, trying to escape the gurney, only to be pushed back down by much stronger hands.

“Please, son. You can’t get up,” An older male said. “I’m Dr Macburn, I’m going to do all I can to save you and your friend.”

He knew that these words were meant to bring him comfort, but instead he burst into tears as the reality of potential death set in.

“I need my mom, please,” He whispered through tears.

“We are trying to get a hold of your Mom, Luke. Don’t worry, she will be here,” The older Dr said, holding onto the young boy’s hand.

Suddenly and without warning, Luke began to vomit. He screwed his eyes up and quickly turned to his side, trying to rid the bile but finding it hard to breath. He felt a tube go into his mouth and suck what was remaining. When he opened his eyes, he looked down and saw the stain that should have been green from bile was actually red.

He laid back down and sighed.

“Ring theatres, he is going to have a scope and then a laparotomy, to find out what is happening. We will most likely have to perform a tracheotomy too.” Dr Macburn called out to someone else, Luke was too tired to even open his eyes to see. “I want you to keep a watch on how much blood he vomits. He is obviously bleeding in his gastrointestinal track.”

“Sir, the other kid. I think we are about to lose him too.”

Luke could hear screaming as his mind swam through his thoughts.

What was going on?

Who was the other one on the way?

Who-

He didn’t want to think that thought.

Who was the one that had already died?

“You’re okay, you’re safe. Your mom will be here soon,” A voice tried to soothe him, he couldn’t tell where it was coming from, his eyes scrunched closed as if it was going to help stop the pain. The voice grabbed his arms and tried to rub them in a soothing manner. “Please, stop screaming. You’re okay. We are going to take care of you.”

Screaming? Was he screaming? That was when he realised the screams he had heard before were in fact his own.

He opened his eyes to see that a young nurse had been the owner of the voice trying to comfort him. He could see it in her eyes, she was worried for him. Did she think he was going to die?

“Please help me. Please don't let me die. Please,” Luke cried, grabbing the nurse's hand, not wanting her to leave him. “P-Please, I want my mom. She doesn't know where I a-am.”

“We've called your mom, she's on her way. She'll be here soon,” the nurse told him, brushing the hair out of his face.

He closed his eyes, imagining that the hand running through his hair was his mother's. Through his sobs, he let out a little whisper: “I'm so sorry, mom.”

Luke could feel his throat closing, he thought it was because he was about to cry but it wasn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he could not take deep enough of a breath. He opened his scared eyes and tried to look for the comforting voice from before, hoping they would help. As soon as he made eye contact with the nurse who was still trying to comfort him, she knew something was wrong.

“Sir, he’s stopped breathing!”

“We are going to have to perform the tracheotomy now! Grab the equipment!”

He closed his eyes again, trying to forget the pain and drown out the yelling that was happening around him. It was if he could feel how close death was, and he actually was wishing it would happen soon. He questioned every decision he had made in his life that led to this moment; dying alone knowing that at least one of his friends was already dead, and the other on the brink of death too.

It was at this moment, he noted the cold feeling spreading across him, as if it was the grim reaper himself wrapping the poor young boy in his arms.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” was all Luke could whisper as the darkness overtook him.

♡

♡

♡

I apologise for any emotional distress this one shot has caused 😂

[genuine-possum]

Commissions for fanfic oneshots!

Hi! I'm Jynx and my commissions for fanfics and oneshots are open! I will write you a oneshot for the fandom of your choosing, with whichever characters you like and even your OCs!

Your oneshot can be anything from alternate universes to epilogues and CODAs to character inserts! Including any tropes you'd like! From as little as 100 words to as many as 8k!

Here is a link to my Fiverr!

[vxyselectric]

Masterlist

Fluff: 🗲 Angst: ☁︎

Michael Vey

Nothing here a the moment...

~

The Maze Runner

Newtmas

🗲 Little Game Night (Blurb) ☁︎🗲 The Voice I Hear (Oneshot, Potential Series) ☁︎ Honey Brown Eyes (Oneshot) 🗲 My Sunshine 1, 2, 3 (Series, Ongoing...)

~

Riordanverse

Couples Characters

~

Julie and the Phantoms

Juke

☁︎🗲 Story of my Life (Oneshot)

-

I am trying to write more, but forgot I may need a masterlist! Feel free to request for any of these, just check out my pinned post to see what type of content I am and am not comfortable writing :)

[michelangelinden]

I have a hc that Alex is the Best at playing hide and seek for no real reason. Luke and Reggie could search for ages and not find him. And it’s (almost) never due to Reggie or Luke having no brain cells and missing somewhere obvious. He somehow wedges into seemingly impossible places and even when they were alive would manage to disappear. They’d never met anyone close to as good at playing hide and seek until Alex… That is UNTIL they meet Willie who is just as good. When they learn this, Alex and Willie start working together and hiding in the same place. Which they definitely don’t use as an excuse for forced close proximity. And when they’re Officially Dating they can pass the time while Reggie and Luke are looking for them with lots of kissing

Incredible headcanon!! I imagine it would go something like this:

People argue that the fun of hide-and-seek is actually finding all the people who were hiding, so you could go again.

Not for Sunset Curve. When they played hide-and-seek it was war. And they all fought as best as they could.

There was no denying that Alex was the best out of all of them though. He was the shortest for almost their entire youth, so he had been able to squeeze himself into the smallest corners or hide under a blanket mountain, blending in seamlessly. But even when he grew taller when they got to their last year of middle school, he was still nearly invisible, still able to squeeze himself into the smallest corners for some reason, and he figured out how to hide his long legs under the blanket mountain too.

It took the others ages to find him, but never once did they lose motivation. It was a challenge. They wanted to beat Alex. But no one was up to Alex's level until Willie came along.

Willie wasn't a particularly good seeker, because they did lose interest at some point (less because he wasn't keen on finding his friends or annoyed at them that they were hiding so well, but they got distracted sometimes, which rather annoyed Willie himself). But they were the world's best hider, finding corners even Alex hadn't considered yet, and Alex finally found his match.

Now it started to frustrate the others a little bit. Because now that they didn't only have Alex they couldn't find, but Willie too, it was nearly impossible to win the game. So in order to make it fair, Luke insisted that Alex and Willie would have to team up when hiding and find a place to hide in together. Reggie agreed with a lot of winks.

Their hope was that because they were now two bodies they had to hide, they had fewer places, but in reality it was Alex and Willie's hiding genius combined, so they always found a place. But they were two bodies they had to hide, so it was usually pretty tight. Alex didn't know if he wanted to party or scream.

The first time it happened was a little awkward, but mostly on Alex's side. They were hiding in a kitchen cabinet, Alex folded together like a lawn chair, Willie sitting opposite him with their legs involuntarily tangled together between them. It was summer and they were both wearing shorts, so there was a lot of leg-to-leg, skin-to-skin contact. Alex felt like his whole body was burning and he was very glad that it was pretty dark in the cabinet so that Willie wasn't able to see the bright blush on his cheeks.

"Comfy," Willie commented in a whisper.

Alex snorted. "You think so?"

"Hm," Willie hummed in response. "You come here often?"

"Are you really flirting with me in a kitchen cabinet?"

(Alex didn't know why he asked that. But he'd known Willie for a couple months now and he was comfortable around them, and knew that they wouldn't take the question too seriously, so he just kinda did.)

"I mean, we gotta spend the time somehow, it's gonna take a while until they find us," Willie explained, then winked.

Alex didn't respond, but he bumped his knee into Willie's. And in a spurt of the moment, he placed his hand on Willie's ankle, over their strawberry socks. He could see Willie smiling in the dark.

The first time they kissed was also in one of their hiding places. This time they were pressed chest to chest behind the bathroom door, trying to stifle their giggles and stay quiet. Alex desperately hoped Willie wasn't able to feel how fast his heart was beating with how close they were. Willie had his hands on Alex's hips (to save space and press closer, Alex told himself) and he had one of his a little awkwardly placed on Willie's arm.

And then Willie kind of just pushed up onto their tiptoes and kissed Alex. A surprise attack. Alex wasn't prepared. So it took him a moment to regain his bearings after Willie leaned back, nervous smile on their face, eyes searching his. Naturally Alex leaned forward and kissed the expression right off their lips.

That was the first time Reggie was able to find them before the rest, because in their excitement Willie's head had bumped against the door and made a sound. But Reggie was more delighted to have found them in the first place than to have found them kissing.

Alex and Willie didn't care about having lost so quickly for once, because oh wow, kissing, that was exciting!

Kissing was fun. Kissing each other was fun. So they kissed a lot. In their rooms, in the garage before band practice, at their lockers or outside the music room when no one was watching, and of course in their hiding spots.

Some spots didn't really allow it. Alex strained his neck so much to reach Willie in the kitchen cabinet again that he couldn't properly turn his head to the left for two days. Or when they were hiding behind a plant pot and they were so cramped that Alex's leg had somehow ended up on Willie's shoulder. Willie had laughed and just cheesily pressed a kiss to his shin.

But then there were places like between the spare couch on the loft and the wall, where they found themselves in an excellent kissing position. Yes, Alex was pretty uncomfortable lying on his back on the hard, dusty wooden floor, but Willie was perched in his lap, propped up with a hand on either side of Alex's head, kissing him stupid.

Now that they were dating and spending their time hiding with making out, Alex was no longer worrying about being in close proximity with Willie. Now he was hoping his lips were soft enough or that his fingertips weren't ice cold when he let them dip beneath Willie's crop top (they often were), or that he didn't accidentally bite Willie's lip (he did once, but Willie just kissed him harder after). They were much better worries, and Willie was always adamant on kissing them right away.

"I know you're making out, I can hear you!" Luke shouted from the ground, still looking for all of them. He huffed. "I just don't know where."

Alex and Willie grinned into their kiss. They weren't going to give Luke a hint. But as long as their kissing didn't tell Luke where they were hiding, they weren't going to stop either. They had this time to themselves and no one could say anything about it.

Hhhhh this was fun to write! And auch a great headcanon, thank you so much!!! A lot of forehead kisses for you 😘😘😘😘

(send me headcanons and I'll give you forehead kisses in return, or maybe a even a drabble)

[comment-exchange]

361. Operation: Summertime [podfic included] (Julie and the Phantoms)

Title: Operation: Summertime [podfic included]

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31490033

Creator: Mousek

Work Type: Fanfic and Podfic

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Rating: Gen

Pairing: N/A

Word Count: 1431 words 8:34 minutes

Warnings: canon-typical discussion of death, as well as implied depression/grief

Number of comments: 2

Completion Status: complete

Short summary/description: The summer after her mom’s death is hard for Julie. Fortunately, Carlos and Flynn are around to help her have some fun.

[missmitchieg]

Relationship tag with a slash = Romantic/Sexual

Relationship tag with an ampersand = Platonic/Familial

(Also, if you're finding not a lot of people are clicking to read your fic:

It takes up to fifteen to minutes for a new work to show in the tag once posted. Maybe they just can't see it yet. Give it a minute.

You may have just written a particularly niche story not a lot of people are gonna want to read when they see the summary and/or tags, assuming you tagged as accurately as possible and have a decent summary. It could just be a super niche fic you and three other people Get and they haven't seen it to comment.

Please do not add irrelevant tags to your fic for attention.)

Alright, to ao3's soon to be arriving Wattpad Refugees, a basic guide to general user culture:

1.) Unlike Wattpads vote system that let's you like each chapter, the ao3 equivalent kudos only allows one per work. Everyone is generally quietly annoyed about this. To engage with each chapter, you're heavily encouraged to comment. Trust me, it makes people's day.

2.) Ao3 has no algorithm. By default it's latest updated work first. You can find things to your taste through searches, filters and tags.

3.) 'No archive warnings apply' and 'user has chosen not to use archive warnings' mean two very different things. No archives warnings means the work is free from any content that could require a warning tag (character death, graphic depictions of violence, non-con, etc). User has chosen not to use archive warnings means it could contain any of the warning content, be it hasn't been explicitly tagged. Treat it like an allergen. No archive warnings apply is allergen free. User has chosen not to use archive warnings, may contain traces or whole chunks of the allergen. If you're likely to have a bad reaction, maybe don't take the risk.

4.) Speaking of warnings, ao3 has very few restrictions on the type of work that's allowed. Whatever your personal thoughts or feelings on that are, thats how the site is. You're likely to run across some dark subject matters and a lot of people are uncomfortable with reading that. You're well within your rights not like these works and have your opinion on whether they should be allowed, but harassing the authors of such works (or any works) is more likely to come back on you than them. Ao3 operates on a strong policy of 'don't like, don't read'. Use the tagging system to your full advantage to only engage with the kind of works you want to see.

We look forward to welcoming you all and seeing the fantastic works you create. Happy writing!

[kithtaehyung]

｡☽˚ here come the f***boys | a f*ckboy au masterlist ｡⋆. 

in the phantom | oneshot ; rich kid!seokjin ; wip ➛ "go ahead then. impress me, angel."

three tangerines | series ; bbf!yoongi ; ongoing ➛ "listen, doll. i could've just said no."

hickeys & minnies | oneshot ; best friend!hoseok ; wip ➛ "you just had to wear that fuckin' headband, didn't you."

new guy | oneshot ; grey sweatpants!namjoon ; completed ➛ "kim namjoon, baby. look me up."

and f*ck you, too | oneshot ; work rivals!jimin ; wip ➛ "this is the last time? cute."

hush, yeah? | series ; bbf!taehyung ; ongoing/revamping ➛ "do you want me to stop?"

seven days | series ; roommate!jungkook ; ongoing ➛ "date me."

dial 1-800-fckboys 🦋 | permanent taglist 🦋

note: i don't have set schedules for my fics! whenever they drop, i usually give a heads-up ahead of time. additionally, these are all member x reader(f) scenarios.

© kithtaehyung, 2020-. please do not copy, claim as your own, or translate. mlist created: july 24th, 2023.

[littlemissaddict]

Hi!! I don't know if you still have your request list open but I really would like you to write luke Patterson x reader when the reader is always so guffy and childish. So reader is sick and luke take karę of them and maybe lullaby them to sleep by singing them and rocking them please

Also English isn't my mother language so please forgive me for any mistakes love you bye

Also feel free to ignore me if you want to byeeeee

Hello!!! My request list is always open and although I don't really write for any jatp characters anymore here's a little something, I'm sorry it's only short and sweet. Also don't worry your English is great :)

"Luke" you moan, voice hoarse from the soreness of your throat, "I'm gonna die" you pout up at him with wide innocent eyes that lack their usual shine but even still you're full of playful dramatics.

"You are not gonna die" Luke rolls his eyes as he answers but the fondness that swirls within them whenever he looks at you never falters even though you claim you're dying when it's only a cold. "Here drink this, it'll help soothe your throat" he offers, handing you the mug of hot water, lemon and honey.

You take it from him, puffing out an exaggerated breath of air in attempts to cool the hot drink so that you don't burn your mouth on it and Luke can’t help but chuckle at your childish antics. “Don’t laugh at me I’m sick” you sniff, nose beginning to run as you look around for some tissue though Luke seems to know as he grabs the box from your nightstand and holds it within your reach and you thank him with a smile.

Once you’ve drank your drink you have to admit that your throat does feel a lot better, for now anyway. As you pass Luke the mug to put back on your nightstand you lie back against the mountain of pillows that you seem to have made in an effort to keep yourself propped up so that your not coughing every two seconds. Adjusting your covers so that you don’t feel the cold that you were complaining about earlier, Luke moves to sit next to you on the bed, his back against the headboard seeing as you have all the pillows but even still you find yourself dropping your head to rest against his shoulder as the sudden need to be closer to him fills your body.

“You needing cuddles now?” he asks, voice soft as he feels you nod against him in answer to his question. Allowing him to guide your body so that he can get you in a position that’s going to be more comfortable for you so you don’t end up with a crick in your neck, you let him slide an arm behind your back as he encourages you to cuddle closer into him and you hum contentedly as you relax.

It’s not long before you find your eyelids growing heavy whether it be the combination of the hot drink and Luke’s body warmth lulling you into a slumber or just your lack of sleep from the night before but whatever it is he seems to notice. Feeling his hand come up to run through your hair, you can’t help but let your eyelids flutter closed as you let him soothe you further but then when he quietly starts humming a tune you vaguely know is when you know the sleepiness filling your body is inevitable and that you’ll succumb to it sooner than you thought.

And you do, wrapped in his arms as he softly lulls you into a peaceful sleep is the moment that it cements in your mind that you never want to lose the loving boy you’re lucky to call yours.

[midnightstar-90]

Fanfic Suggestions

This is a masterlist of all the fanfics that I have read and give a "10/10 Would Read Again" Rating. I love these writer's works, and I believe they deserve the recognition. They inspire me and my writing, and I am truly thankful for that.

I am incorporating both Tumblr and Wattpad Fanfics. If it has a user, it's a Tumblr writing, and no user is a Wattpad writing.

Hope y'all enjoy ❤️

🔥- 18+/Mature | ☔- Sad

Scream

Lovers Lane (C.M.M) 🔥

@msgorillagripcoochie's About You Fic (C.M.M)

@n-slayaaaaa's Calls I Can't Make Fic 1 2 3 (E.L) | (C.M.M) 🔥

DC Comics

Knight Wolf and Little Robin (J.T)

Lost Cause (J.T)

Control (C.K)

@tinkerbelle05's Maybe We'll Get Through This (J.R)

@asonofpeter's Where You Go Masterlist (J.R)🔥

@oneshots-heaven's The Motel Room Masterlist (D.G)

Vampire Diaries | Originals | Legacies

The Original Daughter (E.M)

Cursed Witch (K.M) 🔥

Damon's Daughter (D.S)

Avatar

@avatarkv

@cryinginthemoonpool's A Forgotten Birthday ☔ (Sully Family)

Harry Potter

Infinity (F.W) 🔥

Evermore (S.S) 🔥

Endgame (S.S) 🔥

Stranger Things

Ho Hey (E.M)

Julie & The Phantoms

Somethin Stupid (R.P)

Boy Meets World

Capsize (S.H)

Oscar Issac + Characters

@melodygatesauthor (O.I)

@sweetly-yours-and-mine (O.I)

@bastardmandennis's Pretty When You Cry (J.L) 🔥

@ivystoryweaver's With You Masterlist (Moon Knight System)

@mooooonnnzz's Miguel O'hara & Daughter Action 1, 2, 3, 4 (M.O)

Moondust (Moon Knight System)

@m00nsbaby's Why Won't You Love Me? (Moon Knight System)☔

@lockleysfav's Haze (M.O)🔥

@januaryembrs's Last Knight In SOHO Masterlist (Moon Knight System)🔥

@bastardmandennis's Even If It's A False God (M.S)🔥

@ohmystaxk's Goodbye, My Dear Stranger Masterlist (Moon Knight System)🔥

@alwritey-aphrodite's I'll Be Back Again To Stay Masterlist (S.G)🔥

Marvel

Pistol (H.B)

Freaks | Runaways | Heroes | Humans (P.M)

@anonymousewrites's Portal To My Heart Masterlist (L.L)

Shadow & Bone

Stain of Red (The Darkling)

@midnightlilium's Reborn Masterlist (The Darkling) 🔥☔ * Not as explicit as other content on this app*

@kasagia's I'll Be Back For You Fic 1 2 (The Darkling) | (K.B)

@moonlightgrisha's Moon Summoner Masterlist (The Darkling)

Actors

@yawneneteyam's All Things Connected Masterlist (J.F)

@babybluebex's Bad Idea, Right? (J.Q) 🔥

IT

@anxiouslymalicious's Losers Club Plus One Masterlist (R.T)

New Girl

A Summer's Day (N.M) 🔥

Bridgerton

@bosbas's Love In Bloom Masterlist (B.B)

@nikkisheep's To Be Alone With You series (A.B) 🔥 1 2 3

@bellatrixscurls's Arranged Marriage (A.B) 🔥

@bellatrixscurls's Exquisite Weather Today, No? (A.B) 🔥1

@fayes-fics's A Beneficial Arrangement (A.B) 🔥

@marwritesgood's Illicit Affairs (A.B) 🔥

@dreamwritesimagines's Enamored Masterlist (A.B)

The Second Born Bridgerton & The Second Born Bridgerton's Wife (B.B)

@homeofthepeculiar's I Know You So Well Masterlist (B.B)🔥

Criminal Minds

@dr-spencer-reids-queen's Criminal Minds Series Rewrite Masterlist (S.R)

@fortheloveofwonderland's Me & You & Everyone We Know - Masterlist (S.R)🔥

Jensen Ackles + Characters

@zepskies's Take Me Home Masterlist (B.A)

@zepskies's Masterlist (Jensen + Characters)

@luci-in-trenchcoats's Home Sweet Not Home (J.A)

@lamentationsofalonelypotato's You Call It Madness But I Call It Love Masterlist (S.B)

@anundyingfidelity's Blood, Sweat, & Tears (B.B/S.B)🔥

@syrma-sensei's Hush Hush Behind The Shield (S.B)🔥

@anundyingfidelity's I'm A Ruin 1, 2, 3 (S.B)🔥

@wayward-dreamer's Pillow Talk (S.B)🔥

@princessmisery666's Please Don't Leave (J.A)

The Rookie

@xxchumanixx's Rookie Masterlist (T.B/J.N)

@chiefdirector's Rookie Masterlist (T.B/Chenford)

@fluentmoviequoter's Rookie Masterlist (T.B)

Percy Jackson Series

@woodlandwrites's Mind Over Matter (L.C)

[presleyluvschris]

heheheheheahahashshshsh this had me giggling and kicking my feet like a middle school girl 😍

blushing | luke patterson

pairing: luke patterson x reader

summary: the three times luke made you blush and the one time it was the other way around.

warning: swearing.

Keep reading

[peachiejeongin]

The Phantoms Part 3: Bright | Bang Chan

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (You are here) | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Synopsis: With a regained passion for music, y/n decides to take it upon herself to get back into her high school's music program. Of course, she needs a little help from a certain three phantoms...

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader (Reader takes the place of Julie Molina from Julie and the Phantoms) [Occurs somewhat in this chapter]

Genre: Julie and the Phantoms/3RACHA AU, Crack, Angst, Fluffy Moments

Warnings: Grief of a lost parent, slight mentions of negative home lives, slight mentions of homophobia

Notice: Hello, my loves! I have been feeling a bit ill the past couple of days, but I still want to update this story as much as possible :) I want to go ahead and preface that in this chapter, there is mention of Han being gay since he takes the place of Alex in the original show. I would like to follow this up by stating I do not actually believe Han is gay in real life; I do not know Stray Kids personally, therefore I do not know their sexual orientations. I wanted to get that out of the way so there was no confusion! Additionally, like the other chapters, I hold no rights to 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor any of its characters! Enjoy part three! Fair warning, it is LONG lol!

You clutched the song in your arms, holding it in a tight embrace as if it could escape you at any moment. Tears fell down your face as your saddened gaze shut tightly. In the aftermath of your powerful performance, you felt a swirl of emotions, including pride, grief and even a twinge of haze.

Despite the confusing plethora of moods, one thought stood out in your mind: you had rediscovered your love for music, the hobby that made your soul sing, and with it, you had found pieces of yourself you thought had passed on with your mother.

You were unaware of the presence of Chan, Han, and Changbin stood behind you, their expressions flickering between sympathy, awe, and uncertainty. As Chan had stated prior, the song was a demonstration of your mother's extraordinary talent in songwriting, and they were absolutely mesmerized at how effortlessly you had performed the ballad; however, admist their admiration,the boys remained confused about one lingering aspect.

Why did you lie?

In spite of telling them you did not play the piano, the melody they witnessed moments earlier significantly debunked your claim. They were perplexed as to why you would feel the need to fabricate your talent.

Those thoughts were immediately pushed aside when the boys heard you lightly sobbing; they felt their hearts twinge at the soft noise, their expressions softening into ones of condolence.

Han instinctually stepped forward to give you a hug, forgetting both that he could not make physical contact with you and that you did not know that he was behind you; however, Chan grabbed onto his shoulder to stop him, shaking his head as if to say, "Don't." Chan shot a glance at Changbin before moving his finger around in a circle, symboling for them to make their leave.

The three warped outside of the garage, Han immediately making his way over to Chan. The sun was fully beaming over the earth, its translucent rays highlighting the band; there was a freshness in the air, which conflicted with the rigidity of Han's footsteps.

"Dude, why'd you stop me?" Han asked the older boy, befuddlement wrapping around his demeanor. "Y/n needed a hug!"

"Bro, a ghost hug isn't the feel-good moment that you think it is," Chan responded, adjusting the hem of his blue, sleeveless jacket; his tone was understanding yet firm. "Trust me. What she needs right now is just a bit of privacy." Han clicked his tongue, his gaze hardening slightly.

"You know, I think you poofed us out because you can't handle when other people cry," Han retaliated in a surprisingly stern tone of voice, causing Chan to widen his eyes in shock. "I should know. I cried in a room for 29 years, and I didn't get a single hug from either of you!" His dialogue had now shifted towards both Chan and Changbin as he motioned his pointer finger between the two guys, his voice breaking as he complained. The vicinity was silent, almost tense for a moment, broken only by Changbin releasing a sympathetic sigh.

"Alright, bring it in," Changbin spoke softly as he opened his arms to embrace the younger male; however, Han quickly threw a back-hand up in protest.

"Don't touch me!" he yelled. Changbin stepped back, the gentle beam fading from his features as he slowly lowered his arms.

"This is why no one hugs you!" he mumbled aggravatedly to Han, eliciting a quiet yet frustrated sigh from the latter.

"O...kay," Chan commented, extremely bewildered at what had just happened. "Look, I think the first thing we should do, once we get the courage to go in there is ask y/n..." Chan paused to look back at the garage, letting out a perplexed breath, "why she lied about playing the piano."

"Yeah," Han agreed. "Maybe tell her how amazing she is," he added onto Chan's proposition, earning an, "of course!" from the Australian.

"She's legit!" Changbin exclaimed. "I got ghost bumps." Changbin rubbed his arms in order to harp upon his play on words. Suddenly, the soft creek of the gate echoed behind them, followed by the sound of quiet sobs. Flynn appeared, her steps unhurriedly striding and her head hung in sorrow. The boys' gazes snapped to her as she entered the studio, their expressions morphing from surprise to concern then forming into panic.

"Was she crying, too?" Han asked meekly.

"Yes!" Chan threw his hands down anxiously, and he dragged out the affirming word alarmingly. "And the only thing worse than one girl crying is two girls crying!" He held up the respective amount of fingers for both numbers he enunciated upon; his voice was laced with dismay.

"He's right," Han told Changbin in the audibility of a whisper.

"Guys, we definitely can't go in there now!" Chan's voice came out in a panicked rush, his usual composure cracking.

"But!" Changbin suddenly perked his head up, a light-bulb brightening in his head. "We can listen." The three guys nodded and made their way over to the garage doors, Han giving Changbin a pat on the back for his clever idea. The three heads peered into the thin windows of the studio and listened in on the girls' conversation.

"Your dad said you'd be out here," Flynn got your attention, her hands shoved in the pockets of her black jacket. You flicked your head upwards to face her, which caused Chan, Changbin, and Han to duck down out of view; they could not see the two of you anymore, but they could still hear you.

"We need to talk," she bluntly continued as she approached the piano.

"Are you okay?" you asked while readjusting your sheet music so it leaned neatly against the front of the sleek, wooden instrument.. Flynn shut her eyes tight in response, an expression of dejection etched onto her face.

"No, I'm not okay!" she shrieked out. "You just got kicked out of the music program!" Her words were full of sorrow, yet they had a hyper undertone. "I've been up all night thinking about what I was going to say! I may have drank seven sodas in the process, but I need to get this out."

That explained the hyperactivity.

"Wait, I have something to tell you." You threw your hands on top of each other in a criss-cross fashion, your fingers brushing lightly against the sleek wood of the piano; you were anxious to tell her both about 3RACHA and about your consolidation in your music.

"No, it's my turn to talk," Flynn stressfully interjected. "You can't give up music! Your music is a gift, and wasting your talent would be a tragedy! You're basically cancelling Christmas, and I love Christmas!"

"Flynn, I-"

"Nuh uh!"

You pressed your lips closed, your eyes having a glint of humor within them as your best friend continued her caffienated ramble.

"When we were six, we promied to be in a band together! Double Trouble!"

"I never agreed to that name," you breathily countered, causing Flynn to roll her eyes and come around to your side of the piano.

"That's not the point! Y/n, if you leave the music program, we'll be apart forever!" Flynn's hands waved in front of her, accentuating her words as they shifted around nervously yet matter-of-factly. "That's just what happens! Sure, we'll see each other in the halls sometimes, but..." Flynn halted her words to let out a deep exhale and shake her head, "we'll have different lives! Make new friends!"

"That's not true," you reassured Flynn with a tone of soft certainty. Flynn pursed her lips together.

"You're right," she agreed, and you felt relieved. However, the ease only lasted for a moment, before she continued. "I won't be making any new friends! And the only time we'll contact each other is when we like each other's social media posts! Everytime I tap on that digital heart," Flynn's eyes began to lightly well up with tears, "my real heart will be breaking because my best friend left me and...ugh, do you have any soda? My head hurts." She clutched a hand over her forehead, bringing attention to her point as you tilted your head.

"Can I talk now?" you asked calmly in contrast to the girl's hyper demeanor. She dropped her hand down and sighed.

"Fine."

"I just played the piano and sang again," you explained, making her glance towards the piano then back at you.

"What?! Why didn't you just say so?!" Her tone had shifted from the previous depression to a present joy.

"I was trying before your seven sodas kicked in!" you teased, using your hand to motion up and down towards her. Flynn looked as if she was about to cry, scream, or alternate between the two out of joy.

"I'm so happy for you!" She grabbed your shoulders and shook you excitedly. "And me!" You giggled at your best friends words as she released you in order to move her hands down in victory.

"Look at you," she remarked, her tone lowering by several octaves, "looking all, I don't know, alive again?!"

Flynn carried an unshakable sense of pride within her heart for you; after all, the two of you had been inseparable since elementary school, and she had been the first to notice the cracks forming in your spirit after your mom passed away, watching helplessly as you began to drift away from the character she knew and loved. Thus, she could not be more pumped that you were back to normal; it was like she was meeting her best friend all over again.

"Right?!" you concurred happily. "It's like I drank seven sodas!" You pointed to yourself, your comment making her smile brightly; the holly was brief, Flynn's expression turning into one of intrigue.

"What made you decide to play again?" she asked, originating a solemn yet serene expression from your end. You grabbed the sheet music you had arranged as she arrived and slid it towards her.

"I found this song my mom wrote me." Flynn took the plethora of papers, skimming over the lyrics; reading the song alone made her own heart twinge.

"Woah," was all she could muster.

"I know," you replied in a low voice. "I was so scared to play it. Anything involving music reminds me of her." You glanced up from the keys to look at Flynn, a bright manner overtaking your dignified stance. "Then I woke up this morning, realizing that's exactly why I should play it. To keep her memory alive."

"Awe, bring it in!" Flynn opened her arms, hugging you tightly. The moment only lasted for a few seconds, however, as Flynn quickly jerked away while gasping.

"We need to tell Mrs. Jeon you can play so you can stay in school, and my life won't be that sad picture I just painted for you!" She took your hands in hers, smiling fondly. "My girl is back! Double Trouble lives on!" She held her hand up in a fist, turning around as if she was a superstar on the red carpet.

"Not our band name!" you reminded her as you went to grab your backpack from the corner of the studio.

"I gave you a t-shirt in seventh grade that says otherwise!" Flynn retaliated as she followed after you. As the two of you made your way out of the garage, the 3RACHA boys began to panic; they quickly scrambled into positions that made it look as if they had not just been listening to every detail of the conversation. Han propped his arm on the ledge beside of the door and began to fiddle with the lightbox, Chan put an arm behind his head and whistled at the wind, and Changbin sat down on the ground crossing his legs and looking downwards.

"Oh, hey!" you greeted them as you walked out of the studio; you caught Chan's attention first, the latter nodding in a 'sup motion. The action was miniscule, yet it made your heart flutter. The other two flashed brief, guilty smiles towards you. On the other hand, Flynn turned around as if you had called her attention; you had forgotten she could not see the boys.

"Hey! Let's hustle," you quickly covered your tracks, making it seem as if you were talking to her and not not the invisible band. "Don't wanna be late!" You ran to link arms with Flynn, waving goodbye to the boys and them reciprocating the actions.

"Bye, y/n!" Changbin yelled. "Have a great day that we have no idea what's going to happen in because we weren't listening!" Chan's eyes narrowed as he landed a kick to Changbin's leg; your eyes furrowed at the action, but they quickly relaxed as Chan gave you another toothy grin, your cheeks going red at the action.

This dynamic was going to be strange. You could feel it.

Chan's eyes lingered upon you as you walked away, his heart feeling a weird type of twinge within; it was not negative by any means, but he did not understand it.

"Guys, weird question," Changbin began as you had vanished from their line of sight. "Can we uh, can we go see my family?"

"What?" Chan's head motioned backwards, his eyes still fixated on where you had once been.

"My family," Changbin repeated. "Can we go see them? Y'know, just check in on them?"

"Yeah, man, of course," Chan replied as he, Changbin, and Han transported themselves to Changbin's family home.

Or so they thought.

---

"Believe me, y/n, I think it's wonderful that you're singing again." You and Flynn stood awkwardly as your teacher spoke; you had decided that you would ask her if there was a chance at getting back into the music program.

"I always hoped the day would come when you would get back into music," she continued as she set up a composition on the piano. "I'm afraid it's too late, though. You knew the deal."

"Please, Mrs. Jeon, just listen to her play!" Flynn pleaded with her on your behalf. "You know y/n is amazing when she plays! That's gotta count for something!"

"I wish it did," the older woman spoke with regret in her voice. "There's a new student set to take your spot tomorrow." Upon this realization, you nodded your head sorrowfully, looking up at the ceiling in attempts not to cry.

"You know there's only-"

"So many spots," you finished the motto of the program for her as she nodded in agreement. "If I don't play, I don't stay. I know." Mrs. Jeon approached you, taking her glasses off before talking.

"I tried, y/n," she confessed, nearly on the brink of tears. "I fought tooth and nail to keep you in this program. I can't change the director's mind. Yesterday was your last chance. Your only option from here is to reapply next school year." You looked down at the ground, feeling silly at pushing your passions to the side and letting your fear overtake you. At that moment, the bell rang to dismiss class; your teacher gave you one final glance as you walked away.

"I'm truly sorry, y/n."

---

"A bike shack right where my house used to be." Changbin stood dejected, Chan resting his arm on the former's shoulder and Han staring longingly at the sandy ground. The three had teleported on the beachside where Changbin used to live; lively residents played volleyball and swam in the background as the unseen bandmates stood sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry man," Chan apologized as Changbin's eyes welled up, patting the latter's chest.

"They made the Yangs' house into a restaurant," Changbin commented, pointing to the aforementioned diner. "Why couldn't they have made mine a pizzeria or something?"

"They tore down the whole neighborhood," Han had looked up from the ground, motioning to the entire empty lot; when they were kids, the bayside was filled with life. Houses lotted every corner, a park stood in the centerfold for the kids, and multiple small businesses were scattered around the empty spaces.

It was all gone, just as they were.

"I guess that means my parents are gone," Changbin sighed.

"Everyone's gone," Han responded as Changbin turned to face him. "Twenty-nine years gone like that," Han snapped to emphasize. "Our parents, our friends, Hyunjin, everyone!"

"Hyunjin, that's right," Changbin thought of their rhythm guitarist for the first time since they had rematerialized. "I guess he got lucky. What ever happened to him?"

"He probably aged like everyone else and moved on," Chan stated matter-of-factly while kicking his feet at the ground; he had moved from standing beside Changbin to sitting on a park bench across from his two friends. "No one wants to stay in a town where three of their best friends died."

"Dude, how are you so cool about all of this?" Han asked Chan, confused at how calm the older had been acting this entire time. "Don't you want to figure out what happened? To Hyunjin, our parents, anyone?"

"Han, let's be real for a second," Chan retaliated. "It's not like any of us were that close to our families anyways! My parents always regretted buying me my guitar, and my sister never bothered to come see me once I left. Changbin, your parents were one fight away from divorcing, and Han, your parents were never cool again once you came out to them." Han and Changbin fixed their stares upon the ground once more, sadness overtaking their features.

"Okay, none of us had it great," Han replied while huffing. "But at least we had something! You know what we have now? Nothing. And before one of you says cool teleportation skills, just know that I am not necessarily a fan of that! It tingles," Han squirmed uncomfortably. "In really weird places!"

Changbin pursed his lips in confusion, narrowing his eyes judgingly at the younger bandmate; on the other hand, Chan tilted his head as he fought back laughter.

"I'll tell you what we had," Chan rose from the park bench, taking a few steps towards the other two. "It's what we've had since the day we met! Since we formed 3RACHA!" Han and Changbin looked at each other, perplexed at what Chan meant; the oldest of the three sighed. "We have each other! We are the only family we're ever gonna need. And there's one more thing we have!"

"Death breath?" Changbin inquired, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Our music, you dork," Chan chuckled as he pointed towards Changbin; Han and Changbin still seemed wonderous. "People, actual people, can hear us play! Sure, we can't be seen, but we can be felt! It's like I said outside of the Orpheum that night: our music connects us with people! I just wish I had my guitar!"

As if an invisible genie were floating beside Chan, his guitar suddenly appeared, causing him to spin around from the impact, barely catching it in his grasp. His eyes widened in awe as he stared down at the instrument.

"Woah!" Changbin explained. "That was awesome! How'd you do that?!"

"I don't know!" Chan answered honestly. "I mean, I wished for it, and then it appeared!" Upon finishing his statement, Changbin squatted down and held his hands open.

"I wish I had a puppy!" He winced, expecting a puppy to appear in his hands as Chan's guitar had; he opened his eyes slightly, feeling disappointed yet trying again. "A hamster?" Nothing. "Pizza?!" he sighed exasperatedly on his final attempt, kicking at the sand and plopping onto the ground frustratedly whilst pouting.

"Hey," Chan leaned down to teasingly smack Changbin's shoulder. "I think I know something that'll cheer you up!" Chan began strumming at his guitar, playing the tune to a song Changbin had wrote a while back. Han added on to the beat, alternating between patting his knees, snapping, and clapping as if he was drumming.

"Come on, Binnie!" Han encouraged as Chan continued to play; Changbin jumped up as Chan began to count down:

"One, two, three, four!"

Can you, can you hear me? (Yup) Loud and clear We gotta get, gotta get ready

'Cause it's been years

Oh, this band is back Oh, this band is back"

And so, the three friends wandered down the beach, their laughter blending with the sound of claps and strums as they played their hearts out under the warm afternoon sun. Just like before, the music echoed across the shore, drawing the attention of those nearby, who could not help but dance and nod along to the rhythm. Though the crowd could not see the boys behind the melodies, 3RACHA didn’t mind in the slightest. They skipped and hopped, carefree in their joy, their playful teasing filling the air as they made their way down the path, smiles stretching so wide it almost hurt.

---

You returned home from school, trekking up the stairs dejectedly and still feeling bummed about your conversation with Mrs. Jeon. You opened your bedroom door, looking forward to resting after a despondent day; however, walking into the room revealed an unpleasant sight.

"What are you guys doing in my bedroom?!" you yelled at the three guys, who all perked their heads up out of shock; Han was attempting to pick up a photograph, although his hands kept passing through, Changbin was nearly half asleep on your bed, and Chan stood on a stepstool peering at the items you had collected on your shelf. Instantly, they all began stammering and tripping over words as they attempted to come up with a reasonable explanation.

"We were looking for the kitchen?" Chan asked more than answered; Changbin immediately nodded and pointed to him in a, 'Yeah, what he said,' type fashion.

"This," you moved your pointer finger around to gesture to all three of them, "can't happen! It's creepy!" You then fixed your gaze upon Changbin. "Off the bed, please!" you commanded, causing him to immediately jump off and mutter an apology.

"Hey, y/n," Chan raised his hand as if he was in class trying to signal a teacher. "What's in the box?" he pointed to a small, painted chest on one of your shelves.

"None of your business," you bluntly replied.

"Oh, okay!" Chan let out a laughter-esque breath. "Girl stuff. I got it."

"Oh, like unicorns and glitter?" an oblivious Changbin inquired.

"Oh, come on you guys!" Han exclaimed. "I am sorry about them."

"It's fine," you replied to Han's apology. "And yes, there may be a little bit of glitter." Changbin nodded approvingly. Han went back to attempting to pick up the photograph on your nightstand, his attempts futile as his hands once again passed through.

"I don't get it," you responded to his actions. "You guys can mess up my bed, pick up your instruments, but you can't make contact with other objects?"

"Right," Chan agreed. "It's hard, but holding our instruments is easy!"

"Yeah, super easy!" Changbin added emphasis to Chan's statement, beaming in excitement as he remembered a trick. "Oh! Check out what I learned!" He held out his hands, and his red bass guitar appeared into them, knocking him to the ground due to the force of the instrument.

"Yeah, that looked super easy," you smiled as you teased Changbin as he groaned in pain and attempted to stand back up.

"I guess it's like Chan thought," Han beamed. "Our instruments are attached to our souls!" Speaking of Chan, he had began to wonder back over to the mystery chest; however, you quickly caught him in the act.

"Chan! I thought I told you to leave that alone!"

"I know you did!" he responded, looking antsy. "You shouldn't have said anything thought because now I can't stop thinking about it!" Chan threw his hands down in exasperation. "What's in the box, y/n?" Your first thought probably should not have been, 'He’s curious about me?' Yet, before you could overthink it, you snapped yourself back into reality, shaking off the distraction. With a deep breath, you grounded yourself, reminding your racing mind to focus.

"It's my dream box," you finally admitted. "Whenever I get a thought or idea I think is cool, I write it down."

"Like lyrics?" Chan raised an eyebrow as he glanced back towards you, his curious gaze making your brain go numb for a second.

"Y-yeah, kind of," you stammered, folding your arms over your chest. "I guess they would be if I still wrote music. Now it's just full of things that don't make me sad." The room was silent for a moment, the boys looking at you and nodding with sympathy; suddenly, Han rose up from where he had taken a seat.

"But, you do play!" he told you without thinking. "We heard you this morning!"

"You guys were in the garage?!" Your outburst made Chan walk over and gently smack Han on the back of the head, causing the latter to flinch and rub the afflicted spot. "Hello?!" you added on, not getting a response the first time; as if on cue, all three boys began stuttering and mumbling again, this time saying things about how Han had misspoke. In order to distract you, Chan walked towards you, laying himself in front of you on your bed and propping his chin up on his arm.

"So, where is your kitchen?" he quieried, a dazed look present in his eyes. You were almost swayed by the adorable stare.

Almost.

You sarcastically smiled before answering: "Okay, we need to set some boundaries." Chan nodded adoringly as you moved your stance down to meet his before continuing. "For starters, stay out of my room!" The last part of your sentence came out louder than the rest as you gestured towards the door impatiently. All three boys scattered to make their way out as you commanded, saying things such as, "Yes ma'am!" and "We are out!" as they departed, passing through the door as if it was not there.

---

After an eventful day between school, explaining your heart-held dream box, and a prior conversation convincing your dad not to sell the house, you had worked up a late-night appetite. You hustled down the stairs to the kitchen. You almost screamed at the sight of someone standing by your fridge, but the tension in your body melted away as you realized it was just Chan.

"I am never going to get used to that," you muttered, eliciting a quiet giggle from Chan.

Awe man! Even his laugh was cute.

You shook your head as you approached the fridge behind him, peering over his shoulder.

"Do you guys even eat?" you genuinely asked. Chan shook his head; he and the boys had not had anything to snack on since their arrival.

"I just want to see what you have." You nodded, shutting the door through his ghostly figure.

"Hey!" Chan immediately protested. "You know how long it took me to open that?!"

"Sorry, I don't believe in wasting energy," you retaliated, grabbing some peanut butter and two slices of bread from the pantry.

"Perfect, because that's exactly what I want to talk to you about," Chan optimistically commented, his metaphor stunning you slightly.

"My electricity usage?" you spoke slowly as you rattled your brain for what on Earth Chan could be referring to,

"No, the energy that you have," he elaborated. "Your voice, your piano playing. Mate, you're a human super-weapon!" He spoke with a certain fondness in his voice.

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk?" you inquired, turning your attention back to your sandwich.

"What I'm saying is you have the power to move people," Chan replied, his Aussie accent thick in his voice. "To knock them off their feet. There is no way your teachers would kick you out for good if they could hear how well you played this morning!"

"Yeah, well I asked her, and she said I have to wait until next school year."

"That was your first mistake," Chan scrunched his face in disapproval. "Asking. 3RACHA booked gigs by doing," he opposed as he hopped up to sit on your kitchen counter. "We went into ambush mode! We played in front of clubs, behind clubs, we even played book clubs."

"Book clubs?" you questioned, a tad intrigued.

"Yeah, not a lot of gigs from those old ladies but we did get some gnarly snacks," he chuckled, but you remained stoic. "I'm just telling you to not ask for permission. Use your ultra super-weapon powers and smash the stupid rules out of their brains!" Chan beamed; however, you declined his suggestion at first.

"It's not a club, it's school. And your plan sounds violent!"

"It's a closed door, and you gotta bust it open!" You moved away from Chan, smirking at his comment as you made your way to the fridge to grab a glass of milk. "Sorry. Once I start metaphor-ing, I can't stop. I learned that in book club."

"They're not just gonna let me back in." Your words faltered as you turned around, unintentionally passing through Chan. A strange flutter of nervous energy stirred in your chest as you quickly spun back to face him. Both of you stood there, exchanging a sheepish smile, the awkwardness of the moment hanging between you.

"If getting back into music is what you want, then you gotta go for it!" Chan further encouraged you, putting a hand on your shoulder briefly before it fell through. "You never know what life has in store. Learn from me! Your tainted hot dog could be right around the corner," he whispered as you leaned down to take a bite of your sandwich; however, you lost your appetite from the warning, slowly removing the food from your mouth and setting it down on the counter.

"I don't even have a song prepa-"

"Thought you'd say that," Chan cut you off as he held up a piece of paper, conclusively with a song written on it. "It's called 'Bright.' It's a 3RACHA song I wrote that we never got to record, but it's perfect for your range," he expounded as he unfolded the paper. "Check out the chorus for a second. If you add a bit of piano, I'm telling you!" Chan then began to sing the chorus; you jumped in halfway through, with Chan encouraging you to, "go a bit higher!" on the final note. Internally, he jumped for joy as you turned to him, his smile widening with every step you took, silently cheering you on. You glanced up at him, a longing flickering in your eyes, aware of what you were feeling—and, judging by the soft flush of dusty pink on his cheeks, what he was feeling as well. Yet, you pushed those thoughts aside with a simple, 'Thanks,' masking the weight of the moment with casual words.

He bit his lip, a playful glint still shining in his eyes as he nodded, his smile filled with quiet joy. The two of you locked eyes for a brief moment, the air thick with unspoken understanding, before both of you chuckled lightly, the sound tinged with the shyness that neither of you could quite hide.

"Yeah, yeah, now get some sleep," he rolled his eyes playfully while looking down at you. "Big day tomorrow!" You beamed at his words before saying goodnight and walking away. Chan glimpsed at you the whole way through, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms. The unfamiliar feeling was back in his chest, and he felt himself unintentionally smiling.

In such a short span of time, you had already gotten Chan wrapped around your finger.

---

Your initial plan to play for Mrs. Jeon was foiled the instant you walked into the music room; all of the students and teachers were down in the gymnasium for the spirit rally. You had missed your shot.

Or so you believed, until Flynn, who you had walked in on blowing aimlessly into a trumpet, had an idea spark into her brain.

The two of you walked into the gym in the midst of Carrie's group, Dirty Candy's performance. The crowd was abuzz with cheer and hollering as the group danced and sang energetically.

"Look who spent all her daddy's money on costumes and Katy Perry's choreographer," Flynn remarked sarcastically as you shoved your hands in the pockets of your camo jumpsuit.

"Well, it paid off," you replied as you fixated on Carrie's performance.

Abruptly, the guys appeared, with Chan instantly making his way over to you.

"What are you guys doing here?" you inquired silently so that Flynn would not hear you and assume you were talking to yourself.

"We came to see you stick it!" Chan pumped his arms up and down, an energetic grin plastered upon his face. Han nodded in agreement, a smile playing at his own lips; however, Changbin's eyes instantly glued to the colorful ladies cascading across the gym floor.

"Man, I miss high school," he muttered. Han and Changbin turned to see the performance he was referring to, with Han joining in on the lively choreography; he managed to earn a cut it out gesture from Chan, who had noticed your dejected expression.

As Dirty Candy ended their performance, the director and Mrs. Jeon stepped onto the floor for some announcements, with the director making an awful pun about how the show was, "Sweet."

"Now's your chance!" Flynn hyped. "Go talk to her! See you in music class!" Before you could respond, Flynn ran off into the bleachers. You, however, stayed still, a feeling of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

"What are you waiting for?" Changbin questioned. "This is your time!"

"Yeah, you look really nervous!" Han commented. "Like, you're about you yack in a bowl nervous!" You sighed fearfully, turning to Chan for comfort.

"I don't think i had enough time to work on the song!" you confessed.

"Hey, listen! I wouldn't have given you the song if I didn't think you were gonna rock it," Chan turned towards the stage and gestured towards it. "There is a piano on that stage with your name on it. So, are you gonna act or live your life in fear?" Something clicked inside of your head, and you beamed at Chan, nodding thankfully towards him.

You dashed towards the stage, approaching the piano nervously as you made it up; all three guys had their eyes fixated on you, two out of curiosity and one out of admiration. You sat down as the students began to exit, playing the keys you had stayed up all last night learning; however, your movements quickly faltered as you noticed everyone leaving.

"You got this!" Chan encouraged you from the gym floor; that was all you needed to begin to play. You precisely plucked every note you had memorized, taking in a deep breath as your fingers moved on their own. The sound guy, although he had no idea what was going on, went along with it, placing a spotlight upon you and heightening the audio of the keyboard and microphone as you began to sing:

"Sometimes I think I'm falling down I wanna cry, I'm callin' out For one more try To feel alive And when I feel lost and alone I know that I can make it home Fight through the dark And find the spark"

The students and teachers paused in there tracks, drawn to the sound of your playing. their chatter fading as they gathered to listen. Out of the corner of your eye, you took account of how Mrs. Jeon had gestured towards you, unmistakably signalling the director. Flynn sat on the sidelines, silently cheering you on with her hands clasped in encouragement; not far from her, Han, Chan, and Changbin watched intently, their quiet support radiating from their smiles.

"Life is a risk but I will take it Close my eyes and jump Together I think that we can make it Come on let's run and"

As your voice soared into the climactic high note, Chan, Han, and Changbin suddenly appeared behind you on stage, seamlessly joining in with their instruments. The unexpected sight startled you at first, but gratitude quickly replaced your surprise. Their presence, steady and unwavering, infused you with a renewed surge of confidence, propelling you to pour even more emotion into your performance.

"Rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever And rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever"

It was during this verse that you noticed something unusual. Students were rushing toward the stage, their excited murmurs breaking through your focus. Snippets like, 'Who are they?' and 'Whoa, she has a band!' reached your ears. Confusion flickered through you as you continued to sing, your gaze darting between the crowd and the guys behind you. Then, like a lightbulb flickering on, realization dawned:

They could see the boys.

The bandmates had noticed the commotion as well. Changbin and Han exchanged uneasy glances before scanning the crowd, their concern evident in the furrow of their brows. Chan, however, stood steady, his eyes sweeping over the audience with a quiet pride that seemed to radiate from him, as if he knew this moment was meant to be one in the spotlight.

"Uh, is this really happened?" you questioned Chan with a false smile towards the crowd plastered on your face.

"Just go with it!" he nearly screamed out of excitement as he began to belt out his own verse.

"In times that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help Stuck in my head With nothing left I feel something around me now So unclear lifting me out I found the ground I'm marching on"

You were fully in sync with Changbin as Chan took the spotlight, his performance captivating everyone around. Both Changbin and Han had found their groove, their earlier tension replaced by ease as they settled into their parts, now fully understanding the shift in the moment. As the song built, Changbin, with a confident grin, made his way over to Chan's microphone stand, ready to harmonize with him and add his voice to the mix.

"Life is a risk but we will take it Close my eyes and jumpTogether I think that we can make it Come on let's run and"

The four of you belted the chorus together, the energy between you palpable as all three of your bandmates leaped onto the stage, bringing a burst of vitality that electrified the crowd. The student body erupted in cheers, their excitement vibrating through the air. Amid the chaos, you caught sight of Carrie forcing her way through the crowd, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at you. But the intensity of the moment quickly swept her from your mind, as Chan’s voice filled the space once more, grounding you back in the performance.

"In times that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help Stuck in my head With nothing left"

Midway through Chan's verse, you crept up behind him with your microphone, a playful glint in your eye as you gestured for him to follow. Without missing a beat, he did, and you brought the mic to his lips, mouthing the words along with him as his voice seamlessly joined the melody. The crowd responded with a chorus of 'oohs' and 'aahs,' the energy building with each passing moment. Chan, bathed in the electric purple lights, flashed a wide, radiant grin that made him look almost otherworldly, his presence as mesmerizing as the music itself

"And when I feel lost and alone I know that I can make it home Fight through the dark, and find the spark"

You took Chan's advice to heart, pushing your voice higher on the final note of your verse as the last chorus soared. When the song came to a close, all four of you took a bow, Han adding a dramatic flourish by tapping his cymbals. You raised your fist triumphantly into the air, a wave of pride rushing through you. But then, a sudden shift in the crowd’s energy caught your attention; gasps replaced the earlier cheers, the once exuberant audience now hushed in surprise. Taken aback, you turned quickly, your heart racing as you searched for the source of their reaction. As you turned around, you felt your stomach drop.

The boys were gone.