#battle of the bands fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oliverreedmasterass · 1 year ago

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Synopsis: A young Greta Van Fleet find hope in a local battle of the bands competition to finally catch their big break.

Words: 3.7k

Notes: Happy (belated) birthday to @infinisonicosm!! Thanks for sharing your brain baby with me and trusting me to write this out 😊

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Day Before the Competition

“How are you feeling?” Danny bumped shoulders with Sam as he caught up to him in their crowded high school hallway during their ten minute break. Sam had been trying to get his oversized backpack secured back on, and stumbled a bit at Danny’s contact.

“Terrified,” he squeaked out, clutching onto one of the lockers near him to stay upright.

“Are you really?” Danny suddenly looked concerned. Sam stared back at him and gave a half shrug, like he was still trying to make up his mind.

“How about you?” he asked back. Danny had trouble hiding his wide beam, which was all Sam needed to see to nod his head with a chuckle. “Obviously feeling pretty good,” he said.

“This could be our big break!” Danny’s voice rose in eager anticipation. “I mean, imagine it, Sam. We win and then get to record one of our songs to play on the radio. That would be huge!”

“We need to win first though,” Sam reminded Danny.

“Which you are gonna do,” Sam and Danny’s friend, Tom, told them as he came to their side. “I can’t wait to finally see you guys perform.”

“It does stink that your parents won’t let you come and see us at our biker bar gigs,” Danny told him.

“Right?” Tom widened his eyes. “I mean, I’m almost 18, I should be able to go to a biker bar if I want to.”

“Trust me, you’re not missing out on anything,” Sam reassured Tom. “It’s a bunch of people who are tired of life. It’s actually kinda depressing, you know, when they aren’t pounding each others’ faces in.”

“That’s the kind of action I want to catch though!” Tom protested.

Their other friend, Leah, joined the group. “What kind of action are you looking to catch?” she smirked at Tom. His face immediately flushed scarlet, which left Danny and Sam laughing loud. Leah turned to them both once they were done ridiculing Tom and put her hands in her pockets, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I’m gonna be driving a full car out to the fields tomorrow,” she shared. “We’re all really looking forward to seeing your band play.”

“Who all is coming?” Sam asked around. As nervous as he was, he was pretty thrilled that he would finally be able to play in front of his friends. He could finally show them that all the time he spent in his garage with his brothers and Danny wasn’t for nothing. Leah thought it over.

“Well, there’s me, Tom, Mikey, Ash, Rachel, Ian, Chrissy, and Jay,” Leah counted out on her fingers. Everyone studied her hand and took note that she had eight fingers out.

“How many seats does your car have?” Danny had to ask. Leah let out a chuckle.

“Ian’s gonna sit in the trunk.”

“We did nose goes and he lost,” Tom clarified.

“I’m sure one of you guys could come with us,” Danny tried to think on his feet. The road out to the fairground fields was a bumpy one, and he knew for a fact that it would be torture experiencing that from the trunk of a car. Not to mention super illegal. Tom and Leah both shook their heads.

“We want to get as many people out there as we can,” Tom explained. “If we can get some more people on board, we’ll take two cars.”

“Good,” Danny breathed out, trying to get the image of Ian crammed behind a row of seats out of his head.

“Do you have a setlist down?” Leah asked between Danny and Sam. “How is this battle of the bands gonna work anyways?”

“We’re still working on the setlist,” Sam answered her first question. “We’re gonna have to figure that one out during rehearsal after class today. I can only imagine how much arguing is gonna go down between Jake and Josh over it, but we’re both used to it.”

“Unfortunately,” Danny muttered, remembering the time that Jake had hoisted Josh over his head and threatened to chuck him out the miniscule window in their garage. Danny and Sam had to de-escalate things by playing “We Are Family” on full blast and reminding Jake about the importance of brotherhood.

“You doing Free Bird?” Tom poked fun. That earned him a snort from Danny and a playful slap on the arm from Sam. “How about Stairway?” he tried again.

“You wish,” Sam chuckled.

“We have to get through three rounds before the finals,” Danny shared with his friends. Sam nodded along; this was information that Jake had drilled into their heads over the past few months. “In the first two rounds, we only get one song to impress the judges.”

“That’s when you play Free Bird,” Tom pointed out.

“We’ve got some good ones up our sleeves,” Danny promised him.

“Round three we get to play three songs, and then the finals are two bands going head to head, playing a total of five songs," Sam added.

“That sounds pretty intense,” Leah blew out a whistle. The battle of the bands was scheduled to happen over two days at Frankenmuth’s AutoFest festival, bringing in rock bands from across the state. Greta Van Fleet had been searching near and far for their big break and, after they first heard about the competition, there was a sense of excitement amongst them that this could finally be it.

“It’ll be fun,” Danny promised, wrapping his arm around Sam and pulling him in close. Sam snorted in return, but leaned into Danny’s grasp. The bell ending their break sounded overhead, and they untangled from each other. Leah and Tom parted ways, promising to check in later about plans and wishing them luck. Once they were gone, Sam looked back at Danny.

“Have you heard any more about the other bands that are supposed to be playing in this thing? You seem uncharacteristically cocky.”

“Most of the bands seem pretty inexperienced,” Danny confided. “But there’s one from Detroit to keep an eye on. They have a guitarist who seems to know his shit.”

“Jake should love that,” Sam thought aloud. Jake usually got butthurt when he was around people who could play better than him. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, you could tell Jake was seething on the inside. “What about the rest of the band?” Sam checked.

“I guess we’re gonna find out,” Danny laughed. Sam tried to laugh with him, but he struggled.

Sam wanted to go into the battle of the bands more confident than ever so they could knock it out of the park. He tried to picture himself strutting onto the decent-sized stage in the middle of the large AutoFest open field, dressed to the nines in his best flare pants, button up, and vest. All the other bands grouped around the wings of the stage would gape at Sam, Danny, and his brothers as they tore into their first song of the set, knocking everyone off their feet. And then their competitors would throw in the towel and drop out, letting Greta Van Fleet win by default. The problem was, Sam knew that would never happen. He still wasn’t super thrilled with his dad’s bass that he was stuck playing. The strings went out of tune fast, and he had a hard time wrapping his fingers fully around the neck so he could hit all of his notes. He knew that he was good at keeping a steady rhythm and flying off the rails with creative riffs where it was appropriate, but there was still doubt bubbling in his gut. Sam was just a high school senior, on the brink of graduating. He was supposed to go to college and become an engineer. The whole rockstar thing was still fairly foreign to him, even though Jake assured him it was his destiny.

Sam wished he could voice his doubts to Danny, but the way he saw his friend strut around the hallway to their science class, giving lowerclassmen high fives who wished them luck on their gig, he knew they wouldn’t see eye to eye. Danny had always wanted to do something related to music (or golf). He was on the right path. Sam wondered if maybe Josh would see where he was coming from, since he was considering putting his film career on hold if things with the band really started to pick up.

That brought some comfort to Sam’s racing mind, and was enough to get him through the rest of the school day without curling up into the fetal position and crying out for help.

*****

Once school let out, Sam met Danny at his locker and they made their way out to the front to retrieve their bikes. As they worked on opening their locks, Danny chuckled down at his bike.

“We’re seniors and we’re still riding these things to school every day.”

“It’s better for the environment,” Sam joked back. “We’re single-handedly saving the planet.”

“If we win this competition, I’m taking whatever earnings we get from radio play to get myself a nice ride.”

“I’m not sure that we’d really earn that much from radio play.”

“Just, let me dream here, Sam.”

“Okay, okay. What car would you get?”

“A Toyota Camry,” Danny grinned off into the distance, as if he was picturing the car in front of him. “Either red or blue.”

“At least you’re reasonable,” Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

They hopped on their bikes and started biking back towards Sam’s house, where Jake and Josh were sure to be waiting for them so they could get started on their band practice.

“What are you gonna do with your share of the money?” Danny called over his handlebars to Sam, who was biking just ahead of him. Sam considered Danny’s question and shook his head.

“I feel like I would be super jinxing us if I answered that.”

“It’s a hypothetical question,” Danny called back. Sam thought about it more.

“I guess,” he drew out his response, “I would probably buy a pair of birks.”

“That’s it?” Danny couldn’t hide his shock. “Those must be some expensive sandals.”

“They kinda are,” Sam looked over his shoulder to tell Danny. He felt his gut flop around in frustrated confusion. In his mind, he wanted to take that hypothetical money and put it towards his college tuition. But he wasn’t sure if that was something that Danny really wanted to hear. Danny always seemed a bit concerned when Sam made offhand comments about going out of state to study and take a break from the bass.

They squealed to a stop in front of Sam’s family house, hopped off their road bikes with ease, and rolled them to the foot of the garage door, which was opened wide. Jake and Josh were in separate corners of the space, Josh sitting with his legs crossed on the pavement, writing in his notebook while Jake tried to restring his guitar. Their heads both snapped up at Danny and Sam as they approached them.

“Have a good day?” Josh greeted them, slamming his notebook shut. Sam had quickly caught sight that Josh was brainstorming their setlists, as if preparing for battle against Jake.

“Nothing to complain about,” Danny answered back as he threw his backpack onto the couch they had all carried from Goodwill to spruce their practice space up. “It sounds like we’re gonna have a decent turnout cheering us on.”

“That’s awesome,” Jake commented. He looked back down at his guitar and twisted the peg with a grunt to get the string back in place. “If we have a lot of people backing us up, it might influence the judges to score us higher.”

“You both doing good?” Danny asked between the twins.

“I got out of class early which gave me more time to think about songs,” Josh answered with a smile. “It seemed like a bit of good luck, honestly.”

“I got these strings on discount,” Jake smirked as he continued to work. “I befriended the guy at the music store after playing some of my riffs on one of the test guitars. He was treating me like a god, so I decided to bank on that.”

“That must be really good for your obviously crippling ego,” Sam poked fun at his older brother. He was jealous of how much power and confidence Jake radiated anytime he had his hands on his guitar.

“Quit it,” Jake gave Sam a testing glance. Sam knew better than to keep pushing his buttons, especially that early into their practice session. He could start berating his bandmates after a few songs; that was when it was more acceptable to lose all decorum.

Sam joined Danny on the couch and motioned at Josh’s notebook.

“So, setlist?”

“I’ve got a few variations that we could consider, but I’m curious what you’re all thinking.”

“Edge of Darkness,” Jake started to list off, “Black Flag Exposition, Free Bird…”

“You asshole,” Josh laughed at Jake. “I’m limiting you to two solos for the competition.”

“Do you wanna win this thing or not?” Jake crossed his arms.

“Here we go,” Sam mumbled to Danny. He could tell Jake and Josh were seconds away from throwing whatever they could get their hands on at each other. For Jake, there was an old lamp within reach (which he had done before). Josh had a bowling ball close to him, which made Sam worried.

“We’re gonna win by playing together, as a group,” Danny reminded the twins. “We need to focus on showcasing our strongest songs.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Josh’s hands uncurled from their tightened fists so he could pick back up his discarded notebook. “What if we started things off with Thunderstomp? That one usually sounds pretty good.”

“We have a five minute limit on our first song,” Jake reminded Josh. “I don’t think we can do Thunderstomp in that amount of time. I need enough space for my solo, I can’t cut that baby down. It’s when I take the crowd on a trip.”

“All right, simmer down, rock n’ roll sherpa,” Josh smirked at his brother. Jake gave him a raspberry in return, as if they were a couple of bickering toddlers.

Sam was glad that Jake was vetoing Josh’s idea. He wasn’t about to say it aloud, but there were some lines that got his fingers all twisted. Sure, he had written the part himself, but he found that, if he let his mind wander while he played, he was bound to play something wrong, which Jake could always hear. Sam really didn’t enjoy seeing Jake scowl back at him.

“We could do Fast Train Blues?” he piped up. That song had a fun bass part that he was proud of. Danny, Jake, and Josh considered Sam’s suggestion, and then looked around at each other. Finally, Jake gave in with a nod.

“That would be a good one to get the people into it. A little blues hurt no one.”

“Okay, I can see it,” Josh agreed. “We get the people thinking we’re a bluesy band and then, bam! We bust out the hard rock and blow everyone away.”

“I was actually thinking, if we make it to the second round, we should do an acoustic song,” Jake looked at Josh. Josh looked back at Jake like he was growing an arm out of his forehead.

“You? An acoustic song?” he pointed, his mouth hung open.

“What happened to Jake?” Danny looked equally surprised. “Mr. If It’s Not Plugged In, I Don’t Want It.”

“We need to show off our range,” Jake explained himself. “I also want to be the one to sing it.”

Now Josh’s eyes really bugged out. Sam could feel himself white knuckling the arm of the sofa that he was settled on. Jake knew better than to step on Josh’s toes.

“What am I supposed to do then?” Josh demanded to know. “Dance around like a monkey?”

“You’ll have a tambourine?” Jake attempted to plead his case. When met with a deep frown stretched across Josh’s face, Jake let out a frustrated huff. “If you knew how to play an actual instrument, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Singing is an instrument!” Josh protested.

“Ehhh…” the rest of the band countered.

Josh eyed the bowling ball next to him and seemed to be trying to work out if he had enough muscle to chuck the twelve pound ball at Jake’s head. He seemed to think better of it and instead opted to fling a tennis racket at Jake, hitting him straight in the gut. Jake keeled over but, after he caught his breath, he sent the racket flying back at Josh, missing him by a mile. Josh hopped from foot to foot pointing and cackling at Jake. That quickly came to a stop when Jake successfully got Josh in the shoulder with a can of refried beans.

“Ow!” Josh called out, clutching at his smarting wound and flopping onto the sofa between Danny and Sam.

“Are you done?” Sam asked between Jake and Josh. “I’d really like it if we could figure this out so we can get to practicing.”

“This isn’t settled yet,” Josh sternly told Sam. Then, he flopped around to face Jake, hurling the beans in his direction. It would have been a solid throw if Jake hadn’t slipped their dad’s old catcher’s mitt on while Josh was distracted, and caught the can before it could hit him in the chest.

“Why don’t you split up the song?” Danny stood in between Jake and Josh so they would stop throwing dangerous items at each other. “Switch at every verse.”

“I guess,” Jake murmured to the ground. Josh looked like he hated the idea, but didn’t protest.

“What song were you thinking of anyways?” Danny studied Jake.

“I wanna do a Fleet Foxes song,” Jake said. That seemed to get Josh to perk up.

“You’ve been listening to them?” he asked his brother, as if they hadn’t been out for each other’s blood less than a minute before. Jake looked back at him with a twinkle in his eye and nodded.

“You were totally right, they make shit that feels so raw and real at its core. I want to give them some love.”

“I told you you’d like it,” Josh told Jake. Then, he turned to Sam and Danny. “Same goes for you both.”

“Trust me, they’re heavy in my rotation,” Danny assured Josh. “Your Protector gives me chills every time I hear it.”

“This kid gets it,” Josh jutted his thumb in Danny’s direction. Then, he focused back on Jake. “So which song were you thinking? Blue Ridge Mountains? Helplessness Blues? Can I Believe You?”

“Ragged Wood,” Jake answered. Josh’s mouth formed into an “o.” “It’ll be bold to try and win an audience and judges over with an acoustic cover, but maybe that’s what we need to do to stand out.”

“Acoustic is a good way to show raw talent without hiding behind loud amps,” Sam thought aloud. He knew that for a fact because he was always scrutinizing his playing when it was acoustic. There was no hiding any of his mistakes.

“The kid is right,” Jake agreed with Sam. “We play a wholesome song to win more people over, and then we erupt like a volcano in round three. You know, if we get there and all.”

“Good, I thought you were gonna jinx us there,” Danny laughed at Jake.

“Why do you want to sing though?” Josh studied Jake. Sam could tell that Josh was still bothered that Jake wanted to take over his role in the band, even if it was only for one song. Jake tried to think carefully over his words.

“I want to challenge myself,” he replied. Danny looked at him with concern.

“Is this the best place to be doing that though? I mean, the stakes are kinda high. Maybe we would be better off playing it safe.”

“We’re a bunch of young guys,” Jake tried to defend himself. “When in history has anyone our age opted to play things safe? I think we need to go out there, guns a-blazing, and surprise not only our friends and family, but ourselves as well. We play our best when we’re testing out new things.”

“You mean when we’re stressed,” Sam spoke up.

“Kinda,” Jake’s face twisted.

“We’ll practice it a few times to see how we’re feeling,” Josh announced.

“What about the setlists for the other two rounds?” Danny asked.

“Nope,” Jake quickly interjected. “We can’t get too ahead of ourselves. We can figure it out if and when we get there. For now let’s focus on the songs we’ve got down now.”

Sam was more than ready to get practice in. It was what he had been waiting for all day. Danny, Josh, and Jake all repeatedly assured him that he was an incredible bass player, as did his friends and other family members, but Sam still had doubts buzzing around his head. Out of the rest of his band members, he felt the least experienced and, consequently, the most prone to make a mistake. He hoped that practicing for the rest of the day would kick his muscle memory into gear. That, and playing was often a good time for him to think about things. He hoped to gain some clarity on what was eating away at him concerning his future as they all plugged in their instruments and got ready to play.

“Ready for the most intense practice session of your life?” Josh called into his microphone, looking back at Danny, Jake, and Sam. Jake and Danny roared their approval and Sam gave a soft yeah. “Let’s not fuck up our futures!” Josh hollered, and then counted them in for their first run through of Fast Train Blues.

“Oh god,” Sam heaved out with worry. The music was too loud for anyone to hear him.

Next Part >>>

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #sam kiszka #danny wagner #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam gvf #danny gvf #jake gvf #josh gvf #battle of the bands

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lobster-tales · 2 years ago

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Beat the Daylight

Sequel to Face the Noise, an Arcane Rock Band AU

Rating: M

Chapter 17: The Gym

Summary: Lux confronts Vi || Jinx's hostage gets a visitor

This work is available here on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

Progress Day’s practices had become sluggish, weighed down by the elephant in the room. Well, not really an elephant, more like a dinosaur: a five ton T. Rex that followed Lux around, hovering in her shadow. She kept her head high, though, and her shoulders straight.

Vi still spoke to her: all of them did, making small talk. But there was distance now, a noticeable gap between Lux and the other three band members. It didn’t help when her phone would ring mid-practice, and she would sigh and step out to speak to her parents or brother for a while.

Vi, Ekko, and Jayce were never privy to those phone calls, but every time Lux returned, there would be an emptiness in her expression, her jaw set grimly.

After a particularly bad one, a call that lasted an hour, Lux came back with damp eyes. Ekko ended practice there.

Lux and Vi spent their car rides in silence again, as they had for so long at the beginning. The chauffeur, however, was now more than happy to share the personal details of his life with Lux, who smiled and prompted with more questions every now and then. Vi liked listening to him, too, about his son’s bad score in math or his wife’s book club drama. It was a welcome distraction for both of them.

At home, Tobias was out getting groceries, so Vi worked out alone. She used to exercise to clear her thoughts. Now, she used the time to push them down.

Her emotions felt thick in her chest, a mess of loose frustrations. And the last thing she wanted was to untangle them, bring each one out into the light and face her own fears. Because truthfully, some of them were selfish, and the shame was worse than anything. The longer the feeling stayed buried, the better. So she put in her headphones and drowned them out with the angry growl of a guitar.

A presence appeared at the door: even out of the corner of her eye, she knew it was Lux. Vi acknowledged her by taking out one earbud, but continued her workout. She didn’t want to admit it, but part of her avoidance was embarrassment. Embarrassment at herself for not knowing how to handle the situation, for letting it simmer.

“Hi.” Lux leaned against the doorframe. She wore the kind of confidence that can only come with exhaustion, the calm of nothing left to lose.

Vi jutted her chin in greeting. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk. About the other day.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Vi’s fist thudded against the sandbag. “You fucked my sister.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Is there?” The sandbag swung back towards her and Vi caught it against her hands, panting as she met Lux’s gaze. “Because the pictures looked pretty cut and dry to me.”

“You believe everything you see in the press?” There was a bite in her tone now. Only a few short weeks ago, Lux would never have spoken to her this way.

“Well, I don’t really have much else to go on, Lux.” One of her threads untangled, one of the feelings she pushed down, and she was helpless to stop it as she said sourly, “Wasn’t that the point? To put on a show.”

“What?” Lux asked with a confused frown.

“Look, next time you want to play teenage rebellion, leave my family out of it.”

She scoffed, hurt. “Is that what you think, Vi? That I planned this?”

“Didn’t you?” The mess in her chest loosened, each angry thought and feeling coiling up her throat. “Why else would you keep it a secret from us? From me? I told you to be careful, Lux, and then you turn around and put you both in even more danger? You knew the consequences, so why? Why did you do it?”

“Because I’m in love with her!”

An electric fan whirred in the corner of the room, air rustling the sweat towel hanging there.

Vi shook her head. “There. Was that so hard?”

“What, did I need your blessing?” Lux asked, annoyed.

“No, but fuck, Lux.” As Vi spoke, she began to tremble. “She’s still my sister. And she’s perfectly happy running around with you and showing you off to the press and being with you and she can’t even look at me!”

And there it was. The center of it all, what she was ashamed of. And she realized she wasn’t ashamed because it was selfish, but because it was unfair towards Lux. Powder made her own choices, and it was wrong to hold Lux accountable for them.

“I’m sorry,” Vi muttered. She pressed her fist and her forehead against the sandbag, resting there. “I shouldn’t take it out on you. It’s not your fault that I don’t understand her. I just… want my sister back.”

“That’s what she’s afraid of.” Her tone was kinder, but still cool.

“What?”

Lux said, “She thinks you want Powder back, and you don’t want Jinx tagging along.”

Vi opened her mouth to deny it, but as the words sank in, she realized they were true. When she imagined Powder’s homecoming, she assumed Jinx would get left behind, fade like a bad memory. It never occurred to her that Jinx was here to stay.

“And like it or not,” Lux said softly, “Powder and Jinx are the same. All the things you don’t like about Jinx still exist in Powder, and she’s afraid that if you find that out, you’ll reject her.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” said Vi. “I would never-”

“I know that, but she doesn’t.” Lux took a deep breath. “It’s not my business, but I thought you deserved to know.”

When Vi didn’t respond, Lux went for the door as if she had been dismissed.

“Did you… have fun, at least?” Vi asked. “That night, both of you?”

A wistful smile tugged at Lux’s lips. “It was the best night of my life.”

“Even with all the bullshit afterwards?” She nodded towards Lux’s pocket. “Like with your family?”

“I’d take that bullshit a hundred times over if it meant I got to see her again.”

Intense. Good. “You’re really in love with her, huh?” Vi asked.

“Yes.” There was no waver in her voice, no hesitation.

Vi looked at Lux, really looked at her. When they first met, she would never have considered her as a match for Powder: too preppy, too bright. But now, after knowing her for some time, she recognized that hunger for adventure, curiosity in place of judgment. And especially now, there was a hardness to her confidence. She was no longer that anxious, insecure girl. She became one of them, baptized by fire.

“I’m proud of you, Lux.”

Lux froze, her eyes widening. “Y-you are?”

“Yeah.” Vi spoke the feelings as she felt them, not burying any this time. “I’m proud of you for going for what you want and not caring what everyone else thinks. I’m proud of you for staying true to yourself and following your heart. Yeah, I wish you told me, but I understand why you didn’t. And… I’m really happy for you. When Powder loves someone, she loves them with every fiber of her being. It can get a little intense sometimes, but it’s because she cares.” She smiled sadly to herself. “And if you love her half as much as she loves you, then you two are going to be alright.”

Lux launched herself into Vi’s arms, sniffling into her shoulder. She had also been burying feelings, Vi understood, and now she let them all out. “Thank you, Vi,” Lux wept. “I am happy, I just… Everyone’s been so mad at me, you know? Even Ekko and Jayce-”

“Whoah, whoah,” Vi said, pulling away. Lux’s face was a mass of snot and tears, so Vi grabbed one of the clean gym towels off the rack for her. “They’re not mad at you. I think they’re just… confused. That’s all.” An idea bloomed in her mind. “You know… I actually don’t think they have any plans for tonight. Maybe we could just… talk? As a group. Over ice cream?”

Lux beamed at her. “I would like that.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Viktor was an incredible hostage, which was annoying. When Jinx told him about his new status, he was completely unfazed, offering nothing more than a simple “Okay.”

Even though Finn and Margot had both left, the rest of Fissurefolk chugged right along. Band practices were much quieter now without Finn’s constant critiques. Sure, Jinx would snap at Sevika every now and then, who had switched from bass to lead guitar in order to fill the gap left by Finn, and though she was trying her best, there was still a drastic difference in quality.

But Jinx was finding it harder and harder to care. She couldn’t silence her mind, ideas breaking through for every one of Viktor’s tracks, small improvements. But she chose not to voice them to him. And when practice ended, instead of going to her studio, she escorted Viktor back to the hotel and kept him locked in his room. Silco and Sevika had no idea about Viktor’s espionage, and Jinx made sure it stayed that way.

Practice had ended early today: Sevika and Silco had some business meeting a few cities away. Jinx kept calling it a family road trip, which pissed Sevika off. Business meeting, road trip, it didn’t matter what they called it because Jinx knew what it really was, especially since Sevika was wearing an extra pistol today.

Jinx spent the early release in her bedroom, playing video games. At some point, the sun had set and it was dark now, and she could hear the soft patter of rain outside the window. And shouting. In Zaun, people picked fights like they picked a place to eat dinner: a couple times a week. Shouting was part of the white noise in this city, along with the thud of fists and the occasional gunshot.

But this shouting was different. It was one voice, a man’s voice, and seemed weirdly familiar. Jinx paused her game to open the window, peering down the dizzying distance to the ground.

And there was Jayce motherfucking Talis. Standing across the street in the pouring rain, shouting up at the hotel.

She made a beeline for Viktor’s room, startling him from dissecting his alarm clock. “Why the fuck is he here?” she hissed.

Viktor lifted the alarm clock, confused. “Oh, I found him on my nightstand.” As she went to the window, he said, “I understand if you don’t want me meddling with hotel property. I know it’s a lot to ask as a hostage, but can I at least get some other gadgets? Maybe some-”

“Viktor,” she interrupted, pointing at the street below. “Why the fuck is Jayce outside?”

He joined her at the window, lips curving into a confused frown. “Strange… I told him not to come here.”

Jayce’s voice echoed off the cold walls. “Viktor!” So far, the hotel guards hadn’t gone for him: they seemed too entertained by his passionate display, and dissuaded by the rain. A few prostitutes had gathered under a storefront awning, also watching and chuckling to each other.

“You told him?” Jinx asked. “What do you mean you told him? You contacted him?”

He held up his hands defensively. “All I did was send a text telling him that even though I’m a hostage, I’m being treated very well, and that there was no need to worry.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“Well, when I ratted out Caitlyn, I assumed you went to her and told her I’m a hostage. And she would tell Jayce, of course, so I was just being proactive.”

“Okay wait,” she said. “Let me get this straight. Why did you text Jayce?”

“To reassure him. Because I knew as soon as Caitlyn told him I was a hostage, he would freak out and do something stupid.”

“Exactly. So why would Kiramman ever tell him?”

He opened his mouth but no words came out as he processed what she said. “Ah. You know, that’s a very good point.”

“VIKTORRR!”

Jinx put her head in her hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay,” she breathed. “Silco and Sevika aren’t here. As long as he doesn’t do anything else, we can play this off.”

“He’s going for the guards,” Viktor said, watching from the window.

“Shit!” Jinx growled. “I’ll take care of it, you stay here.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Viktor had a look of satisfaction, maybe a dash of relief. “I could watch this all day.”

By the time she made it to the front door, the street’s residents had all opened their windows, warm light reflecting off the wet pavement as they gawked from above. A series of cars had parked illegally on the other side of the pavement: the press, probably. Jayce was oblivious to all of it, as guard after guard kept him off the property.

He was making too much of a scene. Jinx would really have to pull out all the stops for this performance.

She whistled sharply. The guards pushing against Jayce retreated at the sound, and he collapsed onto the pavement. Jinx stood in the center of the guard, silhouetted by the lobby’s glow.

Jayce glared up at her, panting. She had never seen pretty boy so disheveled before, hair plastered to his forehead, the white shirt clinging to his muscled torso. He rose, and it occurred to her just how large he was, how intimidating he might have been if he wasn’t just screaming his lover’s name in the rain.

“What have you done with him?” Jayce growled.

When Jinx spoke, she projected her voice enough for all the bystanders to hear. “Viktor doesn’t want to see you, Jayce. Go home.”

“Is he hurt? Did you hurt him?”

“Why would I ever hurt,” she hissed the words, emphasizing, “my bandmate?”

But he didn’t understand, yelling up at the building, “Viktor! I’m coming to save-”

Her fist flew faster than her thoughts, crashing against his temple. Stunned, Jayce staggered back. Jinx pursued, snarling, “He doesn’t want you anymore, Talis. And if you don’t scram right fucking now, then here’s what I’ll do to you.” She snatched the front of his wet shirt, whispering in his ear, “Viktor is sending you an address. Meet us there.”

Then she shoved him away, spun on her heel, and returned to the warm, dry hotel. She didn’t look back, but Viktor confirmed he was gone when she returned to the room.

“Good,” she said. “Text him the address to my studio. And grab your coat.”

His eyes widened in confusion but more importantly, hope. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” She hid the kindness behind a sour mutter. “You made this mess, you gotta clean it up.”

Jayce was already there when they pulled up to the studio, his car headlights trained on the front entrance. Jinx went inside first, placed a towel over Fishbones’s glassy eyes, and carried the plush shark out. Jayce gave her a wide berth and a bewildered stare, and she bared her teeth at him.

“One hour,” she told Viktor. He nodded and closed the door behind her.

Jinx waited in the car. She had hotwired one of the SUVs and driven it herself. Because of her busy schedule with tours and shows, Silco had forged most if not all of the legal documents she needed, including her high school GED, and of course, her driver’s license. She spent so long playing passenger that she never really took the time to practice driving. Luckily, the late night and bad weather kept other cars off the road, leaving few witnesses to her jerky stops and too sharp turns.

Viktor had been ever patient, though, offering encouragement and little snippets of advice when he could.

Fishbones sat in the passenger seat: she could feel him glaring even with the towel over his eyes. He was not happy with the circumstances. Some empress you’re going to be, he growled. Is this what you’re going to do with all your prisoners? Let them have conjugal visits anytime they want? You need to be cruel, Jinx. They should fear you.

Blah fucking blah. His voice used to motivate her, but now he just seemed like a pest in her ear. She turned up the music in the car, singing along to drown out his voice.

Open up my box and pull the string Am I just a musical machine for ransom? I will only listen if you scream Lose your voice for me and I will sing your anthem

Living in fear, living afraid Hysterical every day All because I let your poison paralyze me

Jinx lost herself in the song, belting the chorus alone, punching the air on the downbeats.

So tell me who's in control I'm confused, I don't know Tell me who's in control now

So tell me who's in control Is it you?

She pointed at Fishbones, then shrugged as she sang,

I don't know Tell me who's in control now My life is yours to hold

Jinx ran the gauntlet of songs, practicing some for the contest, though others were just for her. Those bought her a solid twenty minutes. When she got bored, she started dicking around on her phone. Jinx had been avoiding social media, specifically the sleazy pictures of her and Lux. But now she was curious about tonight’s events, eager to see her own performance.

She snickered at the videos of Jayce, screaming Viktor’s name like some romantic hero. It looked like the guards had landed a few solid blows on him before she arrived. And when she did, she definitely looked convincing. There she was, Jinx, scowling, ignoring the rain, facing a man who stood a head taller than her. Not just facing him, threatening him, intimidating him. When her video self punched Jayce, she locked her phone screen.

Maybe this empress thing could work. Maybe she could be cruel in public and kind in private. Especially when it came to Viktor.

She could bear the crown, she had no doubt: just another performance, just another stage. If she could handle a crowd, she could definitely handle a city. But then she thought of the mud on Silco’s shoes, the blood splatters on his maroon shirt, the easy way he lied about Finn’s death. Could she carry the weight of those things as well?

At some point, she nodded off, woken by the alarm on her phone. The hour was up. The rain had stopped, remembered only by the glistening pavement. She readied herself to retrieve the boys, but before she could open the car door, they both exited the studio. Jayce pulled Viktor into a hug, one last, crushing hug. And Viktor returned it, crushing him right back. They stayed locked for a long moment, exchanging no words, until they pulled away from each other and she saw Jayce’s eyes were wet.

As Viktor climbed into the passenger seat, Jayce met Jinx’s eyes. He gave her a tiny, grateful nod, and she returned the acknowledgment. He stood by his car, watching as they drove off.

“How’d it go?” she asked. “You guys talk it out?”

“Oh, we talked,” Viktor said. “Then we… stopped talking.”

“Right.”

“Kind of hard to talk with something in your mouth.”

“Ew, Viktor,” but she couldn’t hold back the ghost of her smile. “TMI.”

He chuckled. “You know, this is the best hostage situation I’ve ever been in.”

“... Have you been held hostage before?”

“A few times, growing up,” he said. “Singed had a lot of enemies.”

Silence stretched between them. At the end of the highway, Zaun slept, nestled in neon nightlights.

When they pulled back into the hotel garage, Viktor reached over and squeezed her upper arm. “Thank you,” he whispered, barely audible.

“Don’t mention it.”

#lightcannon #vicait #jinx #arcane #jayvik #rock band au #battle of the bands au #my fic #face the noise #beat the daylight #jayce loves his boy so much :')

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davyjoneslockr · 2 years ago

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okay but for real. you could write a really good modern au. like high school or otherwise. you’ve talked about your college au and i’m all for it

SORRY FINALLY GETTING AROUND TO ANSWERING THESE.

I want to write that college AU so bad you have no idea. I'm actually kicking around writing a fic set in that AU once I finish the stuff I need to write - basically, I'm thinking a silly short multichapter thing following different characters over the course of one night at a house show, and of course one of those chapters will be Fugio focused lol. But also the Stardust Crusaders, who I haven't written in a hot sec, and Caejose and Jolyne's gang, which I've never written, so !!! That should be fun. If I get around to it lol.

#oh i should probably elaborate on. why everyone's at the house show.#caejose are wannabe frat boys who aren't actually in a frat so they just have a party house off-campus. i think smokey lives there too.#the stardust crusaders (including joseph) are a band. they play shows in the basement at the battle tendency party house.#torture trio are party boys of a different flavor. but party boys nonetheless. as is trish. so they drag the rest of the gang there.#456 trio are friends obviously and jolyne and co go to the house shows to party and heckle jolyne's brother jotaro.#but jolymes + foo are also friends with naramis + fugo because they hook each other up with weed lol #i'll probably incorporate the others too but those are the main groups in my mind for now.#davy discusses fics

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cherrylight · 2 years ago

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hjsdfkdsklhggdfjgdfjhfdh explodes

#i need to write but then i write and im like this is going horrible #secondhand embarrassment is amazing i want it to get destroyed #me telling myself to try to write things under 1000 words so maybe i will get back into it #me trying and immediately hating it #me hoping i write so i can be normal again #explodes part one million #what if i just write the silly band au i have in my head instead #just so i can write up something #yes the other fic is wip but im going absolutely insane rn #this is what happens when i want to do something my brain and i are in a battle #i am losing its destroying my ass rn #its ok ill win at some point #maybe #probably #lets hope #kaden txts

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lush-specimen · 6 months ago

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Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: The Transformers (IDW Generation One) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aileron/Arcee (Transformers), Aileron & Jetfire Characters: Aileron (Transformers), Arcee (Transformers), Jetfire | Skyfire (Transformers), Rumble (Transformers), Frenzy (Transformers), Jazz (Transformers) Additional Tags: Battle of the Bands, Post-Canon, Fluff, Light Angst, Hijinks & Shenanigans Summary:

Returning to Earth from a mission of space exploration for the Autobot City Founding Day festivities, Aileron notices a poster for a Battle of the Bands! Although it had been a while since she last played her guitar, Aileron races home to share the idea with Arcee.

All Aileron needs to do is convince her conjunx to join, find instruments, rally up a few bandmates, and choose a song to play in a few days! Simple! Right?!

TF Big Bang Posting Day is upon us!!!

Check out the fun fic I wrote inspired by the rocking artwork by @sevenhundred721 !!!

More chapter will be up shortly!!

#maccadam #exrid #my fic #aileron #arcee #battle of the bands #tf big bang #woooo!!!#I'm so happy to share this!!!

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bitchkay · 16 days ago

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This whole fic series altered my brain chemistry.

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

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a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!

#this is such a good conclusion im gonna jump off a cliff #the worst part about this fic is that it ends💔#ME MAKING CORRECT PERDICTIONS‼‼‼‼‼#honestly i thought the drumming thing would be a bigger thing #like i didn't think they would fight about it #but in my mind i saw yuuji be like wym guys im fine it dont even hurt cus hes built different i guess????#then try to drum before HOWLING in pain like sir please step away from the kit #WE CONFESSED WE BECAME BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND WENT ON A DATE AND YUUJI GOT HIS TACO BELL⁉️ WE WINNING🥳🥳#yuuji deserves that taco bell😤#i love yuuji and his tambourine cus i just know he was having fun up there #went ever i think of tambourines i think of church ladies just feeling the music you know those church aunties #CURSED TECHNIQUE × SHIBUYA INCIDENT COLLAB EXCEPT THEY JUST MERGE #im curious on how that would potentially work cus obviously the seniors are graduating but people going to get busier with non band stuff #me and takuma are getting married yall #ino nation is so fed with this fic we were so hungry #yuta beat toges ass at rasputin is iconic actually cus i know he was cutting it tf up #and then me and maki doing tiktok by kesha so fun #there's one song on just dance I think it would be so funny i think its timber by kesha one of the dancers is a panda💀#you probably guess what im gonna say it would be funny if panda did that one with someone even better if it was the opposite #like panda was the girl and someone else was the panda💀💀#does this have to be the last chapter what am i going to hyperfixate on now🥺🥺#takumas date idea was so cute like the fairy lights at the skatepark with some blankets and food #i feel like I have so much i wanna say #i love tag ranting can you tell #i was talking to myself the whole time i read this i was so excited #THEY WON THE BATTLE OF THE BANDS YALL LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO🥳🥳🥳🥳#i need to shut up now im almost at the tag limit #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #kay's reblogs

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maroonpalt · 1 year ago

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So I just had the coolest fic idea ever because I was listening to Kickstart My Heart in the car,,, HEAR ME OUT!

Kickstart My Heart feels BITB coded if you catch my drift right,,, so whenever I listen to it I just get this awesome bitb battle of the bands au animatic in my head.... call their band Bugs of the Bayou... but HEAR ME OUT!

We have Gillion and the Tidestriders, right, another band from JRWI !! SO SO SO I HAD THIS AWESOME IDEA!!

Just Rock and Roll With it, an AU where all of the different campaigns get sucked into a big Battle of the Bands and the Villian? The Council.

OMG. IM GUNNA START WRITING MAYBE MAKE AN ANIMATIC WHO KNOWS IM GOING CRAZY!!

#jrwi #jrwi riptide #jrwi bitb #jrwi apotheosis #jrwi fic #battle of the bands #music #dungeons and dragons #IF ANY OF YOU READ THE TAGS <3 #please please please send me songs you think the campaigns would sing/make #it would be so awesome #it would be so cool

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hannieehaee · 3 months ago

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IO CHE NON VIVO

18+ / mdi

summary: being abducted and dragged to italy in the middle of promotions was not something wonwoo could've ever expected, but idol life was very unpredictable after all. what had truly caught him off guard, however, was the girl he met whilst strolling the pretty sights at night, fully unaware of his title as idol or any of his hectic life, offering a breath of fresh air he could've never accounted for.

content: strangers2lovers!wonwoo, idol!wonwoo, meetcute<3, shy!wonwoo, reader is lovely and outgoing!!, no race specified but reader's nationality is italian, language barrier (but reader is said to understand and speak korean so its ok!!), long distance relationship, summer love vibes, love at first sight type of situation, takes place during nana tour but does not follow the actual chronology of real events in the show, afab reader, smut, sex dream(?), dry humping, leg riding, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 18.3k

a/n: i want to preface by saying i had no idea where to watch nana tour for free so i never watched it!! so this fic does not follow nana tour at all outside of the premise in which they were in italy for a few weeks!

masterlist | patreon

Wonwoo should've known.

The moment he saw that uncharacteristically free month in his schedule, he should've known that something was up. Neither Hybe nor Pledis would ever allow for Seventeen to have an entire month clear of any schedules. It'd be an immediate financial failure in their eyes.

As much as Wonwoo enjoyed the rapid life of an idol, he missed the days when he was a teenager and time could stand still for a few moments. It had been a long time since he'd had that luxury.

So when he cross checked his schedule with his groupmates and realized they were all equally free of idol duties for an extended period of time, he couldn't help but feel worried yet relieved. Could be possibly make plans during this free time? Maybe rest? Maybe simply enjoy the quiet and slowness of time as it passed without a worry for what was next?

His questions were answered pretty quickly.

As he rested in his room after a grueling week of back to back concerts in Japan, Wonwoo felt content in knowing that he'd get to head back to Korea and rest for a few days. He only had a few simple album-related shoots for the following days, and once those were done he'd be able to cash in on his free month. The company hadn't mentioned any change of plans, nor had they officially announced the meaning of this gap in schedules, so Wonwoo chose not to question it and simply bask in it.

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, life was never that simple.

As per usual, he was not even allowed that a full night of sleep before being bombarded by noise just outside his door. Assuming it was just his hyperactive members meaning to make another attempt at dragging him into their impromptu rap battle, he simply turned to his side whilst nuzzling under the covers, too comfortable to be bothered.

The next disturbance came in the form of one Boo Seungkwan hesitantly opening his door with a key he assumed came from his manager, sneaking into the room as he checked for signs of life.

Not fully awake, Wonwoo continued to ignore the situation, hoping that his lack of reaction for whatever was going on outside would lead his members to realize that he was checked out for the night — something quite usual for him after an extraneous concert.

After a few moments, Wonwoo was able to hear the descent of Seungkwan's steps, meaning he had likely left the room and that Wonwoo could now claim slumber to its fullest extent.

That was until an entire band of people marched into his room, carelessly turning on the light and rushing towards his lone form on the bed. Sitting up sleepily, he attempted to make sense of what was happening, unsure of why this many people had entered his room, and suddenly far too aware of his lack of clothing, pulling his blanket to cover him as much as possible.

Thanks to Boo Seungkwan, his glasses quickly found their way to his face and a shirt was thrown at him to put on while under the covers. It wasn't until then that Wonwoo realized that Na PD was one of the many people currently looking down at him as he laid in bed, camera man next to him.

"What is happening?", he murmured about one minute into the situation, barely awake enough to speak.

"We're getting abducted, be ready," spoke Mingyu with a laugh from the side of the room, looking far too excited and as if he had already been briefed on the situation.

The rest of the details were blurry, but the gist of the situation ended in only one verdict — Seventeen was now headed to Italy.

The free month should've been a dead giveaway, but Wonwoo had simply been far too busy with his usually hectic schedule to even make the connection. It had been a while since the deal to be taken away spontaneously had been made, so the whole thing had left his mind.

Despite his prior desire for some free time, the thought of finally stepping foot in Europe for the first time did bring a smile to his face. Mingyu had always told Wonwoo of his wish to go to Italy someday, which was usually echoed by Wonwoo himself. The chance to go with all his friends made him look forward to it all the more. All he needed was his camera and he'd be a happy man.

One lengthy flight later and Wonwoo found himself in Italy with a band of eleven friends (Seungcheol was sadly left behind) and even more staff members. The gist of the trip was that they'd be recorded simply exploring the beautiful city they'd landed in and playing the occasionally game for content on the show. It had been dubbed Nana Tour, even including personalized shirts for every member.

As per instructions by Na PD, they would get a lot of leisure time to use however they desired. Being a good friend of the group after a few prior meetings, Na PD had assured them that he wanted to grant them as much vacation time as possible whilst in Italy, not wanting to put too much pressure on the content-making aspect of the trip. As long as they were able to record a good six hours of content every week for the duration of their month-long stay, they'd have more than enough for a full successful season of the show.

So now Wonwoo was in Italy, a place he considered to be one of the most beautiful he had seen in his short life. The weather was comfortable, the sights amazing, the food delicious, and not to mention the freedom that came with being out and about on his own, worry-free of his responsibilities as an idol.

Surely he'd get recognized by Italian carats sooner or later, but within the few days he'd been here, always opting to go on a quiet outing at night, he had not been spotted as of yet. Maybe it was the fact he was so far from home and his location was unaccounted for by the media, or perhaps the nighttime making it difficult to recognize him, but he was currently experiencing an incognito lifestyle he had long bid adieu to.

Tonight, similarly to the previous three nights, he made the rounds in the small home Na PD'd staff had rented for Seventeen and excused himself for a nightly outing. At this hour, all activities expected for them had been wrapped up, giving them full freedom to spend their leisure time as they wished. Some other members opted to stay home, having already enjoyed outings during the day, whilst others went out in groups. Wonwoo was alone in the fact that he craved alone time at this hour, preferring to head out with no company other than his camera.

Camera in hand, Wonwoo made his way outside, always heading in a different direction than the previous night, seeing where fate would take him and taking pictures of any pretty sight on the way.

The night was chilly, illuminated by the yellow streetlights that had a tendency of brightening up the city as dawn fell. Maybe it was the change of scenery, but Wonwoo found himself in love with the atmosphere of the nightfall in Italy. Every sight was one to behold. It hadn't taken long for his love for photography to invade his every free moment in the beautiful city. Pictures overflowed his camera roll, all satisfying his artistic eye.

His nightly stroll lasted a good half an hour before he found himself near a shore, looking to the distance and finding nothing close enough to the end of the sea. It was too dark to tell what might be beyond, but the sight was still one Wonwoo quickly became hypnotized by. Surprisingly, the area was quite lonesome, with most people choosing to hang by the brighter areas nearby, housing themselves in restaurants or small shops that opened late into the night. He found himself alone with the ocean and a lone street light providing him with that yellow hue he came to find comfort in.

The comfortable loneliness did not last Wonwoo too long. A sudden presence practically materialized a few feet from him a few moments later, or maybe he'd just been too drawn by the sight to notice anyone approaching prior. He meekly turned his face to the side, unable to help wondering who was his new silent companion. Upon taking a cautious look, he found the silhouette of a girl. Wanting to avoid making her uncomfortable or being too obvious, Wonwoo looked forward almost immediately, now eyeing the view once more.

They stood like that, in comfortable silence, for a few long minutes. No words were exchanged despite the mutual knowledge of the other's presence, simply sharing a moment of solace together. It was unlike any other interaction he'd ever had with a stranger — or lack thereof, really.

He felt comfortable, uninterrupted in his peace despite the presence of a stranger. Wonwoo had never been good at strangers, specially not in foreign countries. He usually found himself being anxious and far too quiet for comfort, never one to pick up casual conversation even in his native language, much less in one he felt no confidence in. His on-stage persona was very different than that of his actual one. Carats were quite correct in assigning the black cat stereotype — quiet, untrusting, keeping to himself.

The silence halted with the sudden stutter of a camera, taking Wonwoo out of the trance he'd been in as he stared out to the water, making him turn to the left in a combination of fear and curiosity. His instant assumption had been that whoever the faceless girl was, she must've taken a picture of him, having recognized him. But as he turned to the side, he found her in a rather awkward position, crouched down and camera facing the sea as she found the best angle possible for her shot.

He chuckled breathlessly to himself, a bit embarrassed that he'd made such an assumption of an unsuspecting stranger who likely had no idea who he was. Where did that big head come from, Wonwoo?, he thought to himself. This girl knows nothing of who you are, most people here seem to be the same, he should be happy.

It was then that he finally made sense of your appearance, as you crouched towards the edge of the shore and gave him a better look of you under the streetlight nearby. He couldn't see your face very well as you continued to face away from him, but he had a good enough view to catch the slope of your nose, the color of your hair, the shape of your body, all distinctive features he could appreciate under the melancholic lighting.

Wonwoo wasn't really one to care much for appearances. Beautiful people came in all forms, but he was one to truly find beauty in a person through other means, usually enjoying the physical aspects of a person's being only after getting to know the emotional ones. There seemed to be some exceptions to the rule, however, as Wonwoo came to find when you got up to your full height, making your way back to your original spot but incidentally locking eyes with him as he eyed you curiously. Your eyes drew him in immediately, finding you beautiful upon a single look.

As embarrassed as he was at getting caught staring at you, his mind was eased when you offered a friendly smile, taking his smile in return as a welcome to stand closer than you'd been before. Wordlessly, you made your way to his side, eyeing the small disposable camera he had hanging from his neck.

"Photographer, or is it just a hobby?", you asked in a language Wonwoo recognized to be Italian. Prior to this trip he probably wouldn't have known the language, but it was easy to tell it apart after a few days of being surrounded by it.

Sadly, his short stay in Italy had not educated him enough in the language to even be able to pretend he understood you.

"I don't know Italian, sorry," he responded apologetically in English, hoping it was as much of a universal language as school had taught him.

"English, then?", you now responded in English, accent as perfect as it had been when you'd spoken Italian. It didn't surprise Wonwoo to meet an English speaker, but he still couldn't help but feel impressed at what seemed to be your knowledge of a second language.

He smiled awkwardly, eyes not meeting yours completely, "Not much, sorry," he rasped with an awkward chuckle, feeling dumb for misleading you by speaking English.

"Hmm," you mulled for a second, eyeing him in a way that made him a little shy, "Korean?" you asked with a tilt of your head.

His mouth morphed into an o shape, nodding surprised, "How did you know?", he asked in English, sure you likely didn't speak Korean.

"There's Korean writing on your shirt," you pointed out with a smile, giggling when realization hit his face and drawing a similar laugh from him, "What brings you to Italy?", you asked, continuing to make brief conversation.

Wonwoo needed to take a short moment to think of how to respond. He'd done many fancalls in English, having to rely on his limited knowledge of the language and the quick assistance of English-speaking staff, but he always avoided these situations when he was on his own. This was a conversation he was interested in pursuing, however. You interested him, not to mention that he found you quite beautiful.

"I'm sorry, it's unfair of me to expect you to answer in English. I understand a bit of Korean, if that helps?", you interrupted his thoughts, pure kindness in your voice.

His eyebrows raised, surprised at your statement. He couldn't help but question you for confirmation, this time in Korean, "Really?"

Your giggle invaded his ears again, causing his eyes to crinkle with a shy smile to match, "Yeah, I studied abroad in Korea when I was a teenager. It's not perfect, but I can understand some," you elaborated, "Am I putting my foot in my mouth by speaking so much? Can you understand me, or should I try my broken Korean?", you continued. A kind and sympathetic smile remained glued to your face every time you spoke, making Wonwoo feel at ease and more relaxed than he ever had with a stranger.

"Yes, I understand," he explained in English, wanting to make things easier for you and with a slight fear of scaring you away if he made the language barrier too blatant, "I have an, uh, American friend. He teaches me," he added, thinking back to his two friends who usually took place of unofficial translators whenever he needed them.

"Okay, that's good. Don't feel shy if you need to speak Korean," you reassured, arms crossing due to the sudden chill of the night reaching you — blame your proximity to the water, "We can work through the language barrier."

"How long were you in Korea?", he asked in Korean, testing out if you'd meant it.

"Three years," you responded, "It's kind of embarrassing how little I learned in such a long time," you laughed at yourself, beginning to rub up and down your bare arms, huffing out a hot breath in the nighttime's chilly temperature.

His focus went to your outfit, noting you were wearing a sundress with sandals, probably not the most optimal outfit for a chilly night out in the town. Before he could stop himself, unexpected words began to leave his mouth, his actions matching his words as he set down his camera bag and shrugged off his hoodie, "Here, take my hoodie," he mumbled in Korean, handing you the sweater without a second thought.

Eyes widening, you shook your head adamantly, "Oh, no, that's fine, I swear," you began, only to for him to push the hoodie onto your arms, silently insisting, "Okay, thank you. But now you'll be cold," you pouted, giving Wonwoo thankful eyes that had his heart warming.

Coughing to mask his reaction, he cleared his throat, "It's fine, don't worry about it. You looked colder than me," he did his signature awkward chuckle again, earning a mirrored reaction from you.

"A gentleman, huh?", you grinned, sharing a brief moment of quiet as he smiled back at you, readjusting his thick-rimmed glasses as he took in the sight of you being swallowed by a sweater that was already oversized over his wide frame, "So, to go back to my original question: Are you a photographer, or is it a hobby?", you gestured to the disposable camera, seemingly not taking notice of the larger camera bag laying on the floor next to him.

It was clear to Wonwoo by now that you had no knowledge of who he was. This sometimes happened when he went overseas and decided to head out on his own. The lack of other members and of a manager accompanying him usually allowed him to go out unrecognized any time he left Asia. However, those instances were far too few, leaving him slightly surprised at someone your age being unaware of his role as an idol in one of the most popular K-pop groups — not that he wanted to needlessly sing his own praises or anything.

Should he tell you? Or would that be too odd? It wasn't as if he knew who you were or what your profession was. This was just a casual conversation, after all. Wonwoo needed to get out of his head and relax. Pretty girls spoke to him almost every other day, with many of them being dedicated fans who adored him for everything that he was, so why did he feel like he needed to go an extra mile to merely interact with you? You liked him well enough and seemed to not care much who or what he was, simply enjoying the calm company he brought, he needed to-

"Maybe I should've introduced myself before intruding on your time alone, sorry," you chuckled to yourself as you thankfully interrupted his thoughts once more. Your hand went out of the sleeve of his large hoodie, presenting itself to him, "My name is Y/N," you smiled, grin growing wider when he returned your handshake and grasped your hand in his larger one. Yours was cold while his was warm, creating the perfect shared temperature.

A quiet few seconds went by as he pondered whether or not he should give you a false name, but the need for a normal interaction won him over quickly.

"Wonwoo. Nice to meet you," he spoke in English this time around, enjoying the way your eyes crinkled any time he spoke in the language, "It's a hobby, by the way. Sorry, I'm not exactly known to be the best conversationalist," he excused himself for his previous silence, now sticking to Korean.

Your contagious giggle invaded Wonwoo's ears again, making him silently hum to himself in satisfaction. Wonwoo's night had evolved from a pretty scenery and even prettier company, Italy was turning out to be even better than he thought.

"Any way I can see your pictures?", you bit your lip, eyebrows raised in question, "I do some photography on the side, so it could be like an exchange, y'know? I show you mine if you show me yours," you gambled, taking baby steps towards him to bump your shoulder against his in a friendly manner.

"You're a photographer?", he asked, genuinely interested in hearing more. Photography was one of his greatest passions, the mere subject turned his shyness upside down without failure.

"Yeah!", you responded excitedly, lifting up the small camera that was hanging from the camera bag on your shoulder bag, "Wanna see?," you leaned to his side, holding the camera under both your gazes as he leaned into your personal space to see. You didn't mind this, fortunately, even making an effort to get closer to provide him a better view, "I took these while you were here, as you can probably tell," you explained as you showed him the pictures he'd seen you take. Somehow the beautiful scenery looked even more eye-catching through your lenses. Your artistic eye made it easy for Wonwoo to appreciate your talent, which you demonstrated through every pic you showed him in your camera roll. They were raw and still unedited, but he could tell this was a talent of yours. A nice sight was always easy to find, but capturing it to perfection took skill, this was something Wonwoo knew all too well, yet every photo you went through showed him your innate talent.

"Do you like them? You're pretty quiet," you chuckled, looking up over your shoulder and causing Wonwoo to realize just how close he'd been leaning. Flustered, he took a step aside, allowing you some breathing room as he looked down to his feet to gather himself for a moment.

"Yeah, they're amazing," he started in English, switching to Korean to further express his praises. During his commentary of your photography, he even went as far as to ask for your camera so could look at them once more, asking you questions about every scenery, every subject, unable to help himself in wanting to know more about your creative process.

As friendly as you'd been from the moment you first spoke to him, you took the praise with modesty, excitedly answering every question and even inquiring for his opinions, curious about his own photography despite his praise. Eventually, he gave back your camera upon vast insistence from you to take a look at his own photos, smiling widely when he pulled out his larger camera from his bag, sheepish as he showed you his pictures and blushing a bit at any and every compliment that left your mouth — and they seemed quite endless to Wonwoo. Occasionally, you'd even let out a few basic compliments such as 'so pretty!!' or 'that's beautiful' in Korean, making Wonwoo's eyes wrinkle at the smile invading his face.

The photography conversation eventually ended, both cameras making their way back to their bags and the two of you somehow finding yourselves on a little walk. Side by side, you took slow steps as you conversed and shared words in your respective language. It wasn't a full on conversation, but the small talk was still comfortable enough for Wonwoo to not want it to end.

"What brings you to Italy?", you asked once you made it closer to Wonwoo's final destination. He slapped himself mentally for not heading a different way when you suggested a walk, not wanting to make it back so quickly.

For a few moments, he pondered on an answer. You were a stranger he was likely to never see again, so lying to you about his presence in Italy probably wouldn't have any repercussions, but he also wanted to be honest. In the end, he opted for a mixture of truth and a lie.

"I'm on break with some friends", he responded, mirroring the question to you, "How about you? Are you from around?"

You nodded, arms folded due to the continuous chill surrounding you despite being cocooned in Wonwoo's sweater, "Yeah, I grew up a few cities north from here. I just moved nearby with a friend," you informed him, "So, does that mean you're leaving soon?"

Taking in a breath, he nodded, frowning without realizing, "I really like it here, but I'm only here for three more weeks," he replied, chuckling at the pout you gave him at his response.

"That sucks. It's rare to meet interesting tourists around here," you said, frowning at him as he mirrored your frown.

As you continued to walk and talk, Wonwoo couldn't help but feel intrigued by you and every bit of information about yourself you shared. Some may even call what he felt to be interest — you were pretty, talented, smart, nice, and these were traits he picked up on only within an hour of knowing you. The intrigue to continue to get to know you began to itch at him.

The fleeing thought of a crush crossed Wonwoo's mind, but he tossed it aside immediately, believing it to be childish and improbable. Wonwoo was 27, for God's sakes, the last time he'd had a crush had been when he was 16 years old. There was no time for crushes in his profession, much less during what would likely be the only vacation he'd get in the following ten years.

Eventually, you made it all the way to the street where Wonwoo's rented house was located, steps growing slower by the second as you approached the location. It'd be obvious to any spectator that neither of you wanted to end the conversation, but it had been a few hours since he'd first headed out, and he knew he had a schedule to attend to in the morning, so he opted to not make himself late the following day.

"Well," you started, stopping and facing him, "If for any reason you get bored during your stay, maybe you'll stop by the coast again? You know, only if you get bored," you rambled, biting your lip as you looked up at him expectantly.

With a laugh, he nodded, squinting his eyes in humorously, "I'll get bored again, don't worry," he reassured, wanting to be direct in letting you know he wanted to see you again.

You grinned widely, making him feel no option but to return your smile. A shock came over him when you suddenly offered him a hug, wrapping your arms around his middle as he let himself envelop you by your waist. The fit of your body against his own felt perfect, but sadly he was unable to really experience it due to the friendly nature of the hug, ending as soon as it began.

"Oh!", you suddenly exclaimed, "Your hoodie, let me-" you went to remove it, only to be stopped by Wonwoo.

"Keep it. I think I might get bored again tomorrow. You can give it back then," he suggested, surprising himself at being so forward.

With another grin, you nodded, offering him a shy smile and a wave of your hand, turning to leave as he stayed there, dumbfounded at the sudden shift his night had as soon as you took notice of him.

Standing there in silence, Wonwoo smiled at himself, feeling butterflies he had only ever seen people experience in the cheesy K-dramas Soonyoung and Dokyeom insisted on watching at the dorms during their earlier years. It was also a feeling reminiscent of the lyrics Jihoon was endlessly praised for by carats. Suddenly he understood it all, having never felt so giddy so soon at a mere interaction. Maybe this had been a meeting of fate. Only time would tell. As of now, Wonwoo found himself looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, and maybe then again and again after that.

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, the following day his mind was taken up entirely by the sudden insecure belief that he would never see you again. His mind went directly to thinking that you might've looked him up as soon as you went home, or that you'd disliked his shy and off-putting personality. What if you had simply been humoring him, only engaging in conversation because he had been in your way? Or maybe you didn't appreciate how easily he'd given up on speaking English, sticking to Korean while you spoke to him in your second language? He couldn't help but reprimand himself for not encouraging you to speak however you were most comfortable or for not bothering to ask you questions of his own.

Thinking back to it, the entire time you spent together was taken up by you trying to get him to open up and by asking him questions in order to keep the conversation going. Although Wonwoo had gone home that day with a warm heart and comfort in your interaction, he couldn't help feeling insecure the following day, worried that he'd go back to that same spot and find it empty, with you nowhere to be found.

As a seasoned idol, he had been able to hold back any apprehension he felt while camera, but he was sure his friends were able to tell he was off that day. Fortunately, his members knew him well enough to let him grovel on his own, simply engaging with him whenever he seemed to be in the mood.

The entire day went by in decades, or at least that's how it felt to Wonwoo. It felt kind of pathetic how much he was looking forward to seeing you, but it was also exhilarating (whilst still very anxiety inducing). Wonwoo hadn't realized what a rollercoaster of emotions a crush could become, especially so rapidly.

Unlike previous days, tonight Wonwoo left the rented home as soon as possible, rushing to find the empty street by the coast that he'd been frequenting since his arrival. For a moment he wondered if you'd seen him there beforehand or if that had coincidentally been your first time walking by there. He knew that if you had arrived there before him, he would've walked the other way, assuming he'd be disrupting your peace. Relief cruised through him knowing you hadn't felt the same way and chose to make conversation with him instead.

Now he stood there alone, earlier than the day prior as he hoped for your prompt arrival, if at all. Once there, he felt dumb at having so many doubts and building ten different scenarios in his head. A desire to be more casual about things like this cruised through his mind, but any further thought was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Turning around towards the noise, Wonwoo found you standing there, a large grin on your face as his hoodie swallowed you whole once more. You waved at him from the small distance away, lifting your arm high and swinging your wrist enthusiastically. Wonwoo returned a shier version of your gesture, waving shyly at you with a small smile on his face.

"Wonwoo!", you smiled happily, practically skipping to his side, "I didn't think you'd show," you laughed, "Thought maybe I talked too much last time and scared you off."

He smiled at this, thinking of his own dumb concerns about seeing you again and noting how dumb he'd been to think someone as nice as you would ghost him (and steal his hoodie in the process), "Of course not," he responded in English, hoping to hype himself up enough to speak a little more today than he had last time.

"Let me give you your hoodie," you said as you went to take it off, only to be stopped by Wonwoo just like last time, shaking his head and lifting his hands to prevent you from even removing it.

"Keep it. It's still cold today," he reasoned, truly just liking the way you had something of his and how largely it fit you (though it was also large on himself).

You eyed him curiously but with a smile, putting the arm you'd taken out of the hoodie back in it to upon his request, "You know, tourists usually get pickpocketed around here, but I don't think you need to worry about that, giving your stuff away for free and all," you joked, earning a chuckle and a matching eye smile from him.

"I don't mind it," he responded softly, "Think of it as a thank you for walking me around yesterday," he added, pondering as to how direct he should be about his interest in continuing to see you past the last two days.

"Ah," you said, "An exchange of goods and services, then?", you asked, beginning to walk in a different direction from last time, nodding at him to follow you, something which he embarrassingly did with an unnecessary urgency. Your giggles in response to his rush to follow you made it worth it.

"Sorry if I'm taking up your time," he apologized, realizing that you might've come meet him only due to the hoodie, somehow attempting to read past every other positive signal you'd given him so far.

"No! You're not, at all," you were quick to clarify, "I would've come back here to see if you came back anyways," you continued to admit sheepishly, "Plus, you need a local to show you around, don't you? And here I am, offering my services for free."

Somehow you were able to swerve around every ounce of self doubt that'd spring out of Wonwoo unexpectedly. Interacting with you made him feel weirdly needy, like he had to make it up to some sort of higher power for being able to have you pay him any mind. The lack of unpunished social interaction with a pretty girl had been so lacking in Wonwoo's life that he had no idea how to act around you. Sure, he was around pretty backup dancers and idols alike for a majority of the time, but the presence of cameras was always there, along with the controversy behind any interaction constantly present. Plus, his status as one of the most popular members of one of the top K-pop groups in the industry made it hard for him to ever find true friendship — or more, which was completely out of the picture for him.

For lack of a better term, you were a breath of fresh air for him, something which made him anxious. He knew this was just a summer crush, but he had every intention of enjoying it as much as he could.

Soon after your encounter, you'd dragged Wonwoo along with you to a few different places. It was nighttime, so not every suggestion of yours worked out perfectly. Within those two hours spent together, you'd shown Wonwoo a few cafe's you claimed your favorites (though sadly they were closed at that time), a pier nearby, and had taken him to a touristy area with street food. Thankfully, you'd done all the talking, also insisting on treating him to some traditional Italian street food.

Now with a full belly and a happy mind, Wonwoo walked side by side with you as he ate the ice cream you'd insisted on buying him. He felt like a sad excuse of a gentleman, but Na PD had taken all their money, which meant he was unable to fight you over who'd pay for any snacks tonight.

"So, how's the Italy experience so far?", you asked, shoulder bumping into his in a lighthearted manner.

He smiled sheepishly at you, "It's been nice. It's nice to have a change of pace and relax. Work's been, uh, very hectic these past months," he scratched the back of his neck, not sure how to open up without giving himself up.

"Oooh, that sounds interesting. What do you do? You give me a corporate vibe. Or maybe a streamer? Okay, those are complete opposites. Am I far off?", you asked, a joking tone in your voice.

He chuckled awkwardly, body language likely showing his discomfort. It's not that he wanted to lie to you, but he didn't want his profession to get in the way of whatever was happening between the two of you. In his years of being an idol, he noticed a drastic change in treatment before and after becoming successful. Even on the rare occasion in which someone was unaware of his status, their behavior would immediately change upon revealing his profession — whether this was a conscious or subconscious reaction, he wasn't sure.

These were the reasons why Wonwoo decided to do something he usually stood against.

He lied.

"I work in an entertainment company. Nothing too exciting. It just gets busy every so often," he replied as nonchalantly as possible, "How about you?"

He didn't feel good about lying, but in the grand scheme of things, he guessed it didn't really matter. In just a few weeks, he'd never see you again. Hell, maybe even today would be the last day to see you-

"Wow, really? That sounds fun," you interrupted his thoughts, "I'm a photographer, like I said yesterday. But for the most part I work at a museum nearby. Maybe you'd like to stop by one of these days? In the daytime, of course," you giggled.

Or maybe he'd be seeing you again a few days from now. Yeah, that worked perfectly well for him.

"R-really?", he couldn't help but smile, "I'd love to. When? I, uh, I might have plans with my friends, but I can make time whenever you're free."

"Maybe you should give me your number?", you smiled back, "That way we can come up with a time. It's getting late, I don't want to keep you."

Oh, right.

Pulling out his phone, he noticed it had suddenly turned into 12:16AM. Shit, had he really been walking around the villa with you for four hours?

"Shit, yeah, you're totally right. Let me walk you home? It's really late, I'd feel terrible just leaving you on your own."

Handing you his phone, you entered your number, texting yourself before handing it back with a smile.

"Can't say no to that. Come, it's this way," you grabbed onto his jacket-covered arm, making him stumble for a moment before clearing his throat and straightening his back, attempting to appear entirely unaffected

He was not expecting any sort of physical contact, but he couldn't lie in admitting he liked your arm wrapped around his own. This was platonic enough for him to justify it in his head — though the increased speed of his heartbeat was nothing but platonic.

After walking you back to your place (and forcing himself to deny your invitation inside with a mental slap to himself), he headed back to the villa in which he and his groupmates were situated. The pleased smile wouldn't leave his face, it was kind of embarrassing.

During your very extended goodbye (and a sly smile from you as you attempted to lure him inside), you'd convinced him to meet with you a week later, this time in the morning so you could show him around your workplace and maybe a few other places you thought he'd like. (In the meantime, he made sure he could still meet you nightly, of course). You'd called it a date, making Wonwoo have to bite back an excited smile. He knew the word 'date' in English didn't necessarily mean a romantic outing, but the thought still managed to excite him.

Managing to avoid bumping into any staff or members as he went to bed, he laid down to sleep. This proved kind of useless for the first few hours, however, as he continued to think about you as the night progressed.

He felt beyond silly. That was the best word he could use to describe this feeling. He felt overly excited at the mere thought of seeing you again tomorrow and the day after, and the day after, and the day aft- well, every day he could manage until you got bored of him.

It was difficult to not let his mind wander to the end of his trip. To the day in which he'd have to pack his bags and never see you again. But he wanted to enjoy his harmless crush as much as he could. Who knows, maybe one day Seventeen would land in Italy during on of their tours, and maybe then Wonwoo could drop by your door. Would you be angry if he suddenly popped up again two years from now with the confession of his true identity?

That brought up an entirely different set of questions. Would you swoon at his career? Would you tell him to fuck off for lying? Or maybe you'd just hate celebrities, you did seem like the type of person to keep to yourself. But! He was too! He just had to share certain parts of his life due to his career. Fuck. Would this even work? Was he just giving himself the false illusion of pursuing something with you.

God, he was getting far too ahead of himself. He'd known you for a total of eight hours, give or take, yet he was already wondering how a relationship could possibly work out. He didn't even have any reason to believe you liked him back.

A few hours were spent like this, with a constant back and forth in Wonwoo's brain, overthinking issues that were entirely nonexistent. When slumber finally took him, he was happy to awaken the following day to renewed (and thankfully much less erratic) thoughts of you.

"So he asked for permission to cheat and still lost?", you laughed, hand covering the pretty smile Wonwoo had grown to adore these past days.

Maybe one day he'd grow the balls to tell you just how much he liked it, maybe inspire you into letting him see it to its fullest extent at all times.

For now, all he could do was laugh along with you and mentally high-five himself for being the cause of that smile in this moment.

"This was Seungkwan, right? The super extroverted one?", you asked once your laughter subsided.

Ah, yes.

Within the twelve times in which Wonwoo had met up with you, he'd managed to practically give you his entire life story, tales about his members included. He'd left out the grand part in which he was a in a worldwide famous K-Pop group, but everything else had been entirely truthful.

Each night spent together ran for four to five hours, giving him ample time to fill you in on his life while you did the same in return. The language barrier was practically nonexistent all throughout, with him continuing to speak Korean and the occasional sentence in English and you doing the reverse.

Your conversations sometimes had him wanting to take on English as a full-time hobby, as he occasionally missed a word or two, but you were always so understanding and never minded slowing down or rewording yourself. He, on the other hand, was lucky enough that you never seemed to have trouble in understanding him. It made him feel bad sometimes, as if you had to put all the effort into your talks, but you'd reassured him immediately after he'd voiced this concern to you.

With just a little over a week of knowing you, Wonwoo was now entirely sure — he had feelings for you.

Was it too far fetched to confirm such a thing with less than two weeks of knowing a person? Maybe. But Wonwoo just adored everything about you. You were nice, funny, understanding, you shared a lot of his hobbies and beliefs, and god, were you gorgeous.

Sure, he would not call himself in love, but he knew that if he had unlimited access to you, he'd surely fall as deep as a man can.

With these past meetings, it had been somewhat established that you'd keep contact after his departure. It was a casual agreement (though entirely giddy for Wonwoo). These past few days had already been spent with constant texting throughout the daytime, which made Wonwoo excited in advance.

Tomorrow was the day in which you'd finally have a daytime date together, a short tour at the museum you worked at. After having to reschedule with you a few times, — coming up with lame excuses as to why he was busy without revealing his true profession — you had finally settled for tomorrow. The producers of the show had granted all the members three free days without any single ounce of recording. The first had been wasted before he'd met you, with this being the second one, and the third one likely to be used on you once again.

It had been difficult to ward off his members when a few of them had attempted to make plans with him for the day without bringing to light what had been keeping him so busy night after night, but he had somehow managed. Plus, he was pretty sure a few of them had some sort of idea as to why he was so occupied as of late, but since none of them had directly questioned him, he continued to enjoy you in private.

"So, am I ever meeting these friends? They're the ones you're on vacation with, right?", you asked after the laughed had died down a bit.

Wonwoo scratched the back of his neck, arm instinctively pulling you closer to him — yeah, the physical contact had gotten even more personal through the passing of days, something which absolutely did not make his heart race like crazy. Your arms wrapped tighter around his own arm, aiding in pulling yourself closer.

"They're, uh, busy, but I'd love that! I think you'd get along really well."

And it was true! They were busy. And he did believe you'd fit right in. But it was just too much of a risk right now. He didn't want his secret airing itself out so soon. Maybe it'd be easier to tell you about it all when he was back in Korea, when there was no risk of you telling him to fuck off right to his face.

"God, I can't believe you have to work even on vacation," you pouted, "Your job sucks!"

Well, he wouldn't say sucks, but he got exactly where you were coming from, with the lack of context about what his job was and all.

"It's fine. It still gives me time to hang out with you," he smiled.

You returned his smile, snuggling closer to his arm as you walked side by side, much to his heart's chagrin. As you approached your place, your hands became more and more curious, occasionally traveling down to his own and gracing your fingers through those of his. You never actually intertwined them, but the playful touch still had his heart fluttering.

In these past nights of knowing you, he'd come to find that you were, in fact, single. This piece of information should not have excited him as much as it did, but it couldn't help but alter his perception of your interactions. It was easier to interpret some of your words, your touches, as flirtatious.

Wonwoo was used to touchiness from his members, but the tentative and playful contact you'd have with him was entirely different from what he was used to. It was far too reminiscent of every shy more-than-friends-but-not-yet-lovers stage he'd had with girls in the past. The fleeting looks, the multiple attempts you'd had at inviting him into your home without any blindly veiled excuse for coffee, the constant proximity, the smiles, the wandering eyes, it was all indicative to attraction.

That, or Wonwoo could officially declare himself as socially inept as they come.

Arriving at the front door of the small home you'd been residing in with some friends was always the worst part of your nightly outings. After the first few times in which he walked you home, you had developed a habit of refusing to let go of his arm. You'd lean against the door frame leading into your home, giving him a look and intertwining your fingers with his own as you silently attempted to pull him inside. You'd sometimes even go as far as asking if he'd like to continue the night, that you didn't want to wait another 24 hours to see him (which absolutely killed him).

You'd never said nor implied anything explicit, nor did Wonwoo genuinely think you were meaning to incite anything further than maybe a more intimate conversation in a more private setting, but he couldn't help if his mind just went there. He wanted to imagine a future in which he'd be able to go into your home for that motive, but the mere thought made him blush. He wasn't the type to have sex so casually, but he felt he'd connected with you emotionally so seamlessly in such little time that he could do so physically with a similar ease.

Tonight you went along with your usual routine. You walked all the way to your front door, with Wonwoo halting a few steps prior but letting you drag his arm in your direction. Turning around, you leaned against the frame and smiled at him, fingers reaching his own and toying with them a bit.

"What can I do to convince you to come up?", you asked, tilting your head to the side and biting your lip.

You'd both shared some wine tonight. Neither of you were drunk, but loose enough to relax your tongues. It wasn't surprising to Wonwoo when you asked him so directly. However, it still made heat rush to his cheeks.

Specially so when you took a step forward, letting go of his hand in favor of wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, incidentally making him lean down a bit. Your smile didn't leave your lips, appearing entirely too pleased with the situation.

Wonwoo gulped, hands naturally reaching down to your waist and sighing internally when he felt the contour of your body. He had to restrain from letting his fingers squeeze at the bare skin that laid between your shorts and your top. It was the smallest sliver, but his hands ached to reach up and uncover just it a little more.

"I promise to be on my best behavior," you spoke up again, biting your lip through the ever so present smile on your face.

Wonwoo knew he couldn't go in there with you. He knew that both you and him would convince yourselves of doing more than innocent things with each other under the excuse that his departure was approaching. It wasn't as if he didn't want you. He did. This was the fastest and easiest he'd found himself craving someone.

The issue was that he could not risk marring your current relationship with sex. It felt dirty to think of fucking you and then flying off to another country just over a week later. No, he needed to know things could go a long way before taking that step. He liked you too much to trick you into thinking this could be like any other long distance affair.

But under all these complex emotions, Wonwoo was nothing more than a man. His need to be close to you could only be held back so much.

Burying his face in your neck, he closed his eyes and sighed, breathing you in. His hands wrapped all the way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Your own hands went to his hair, running through it and aiding in pressing him into your neck. Shyly, his lips traced the skin of your neck, sighing at the scent of your perfume.

It started with feather-light kisses pressed intermittently to your skin, but quickly evolved to hotter, denser ones. He hummed into your skin, almost moaning at how your back arched right under his palms, neck tilting aside so he could kiss you more.

"You know I want you," he breathed, "I don't even have to say it, it's embarrassingly obvious. Just, fuck, I can't ... Not if I have to leave you right after."

You separated yourself from him just enough to look up at him, offering him a close-lipped and shy smile.

"Can I get a kiss, at least?", you murmured with your eyes glued to his lips.

He didn't have to answer, already closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours.

As much as he would've wanted to keep it chaste and PG, his mammalian instincts took over without a warning. His mouth opened, tongue peeking out to seek your own. A single moan from you was enough for the kiss to grow heated.

It was borderline perverse the way in which Wonwoo kissed you, and he was well aware. There was spit, knocking of teeth, groans swallowed by one another (and maybe some hardness forming in Wonwoo's pants). Luckily for you both, no spectators were present late into the night in your small neighborhood, or else they would've been privy to you practically fucking each other's mouths with your tongues.

Wonwoo had to hold back from pushing you up against the nearest wall and humping you until finding completion inside his pants. More so did he have to hold back when you finally pulled away for air and gave him those eyes that he knew were begging from him to come upstairs with you.

With one last, but this time chaste, kiss, he wished you goodnight, chuckling at your petulant pout. Your antics lasted mere moments before you hugged him goodbye, letting him know about your excitement to see him tomorrow morning for your first daytime date.

He went back to his villa that day with an irremovable smile stuck on his face (and some slight discomfort in his pants).

Arriving at the villa, Wonwoo was immediately met with Mingyu and Dokyeom drinking together as they sat on a recliner located in the patio. Wonwoo had initially hoped to pass through the patio and onto his room without being perceived, but unfortunately both boys had been hyperaware to his presence as soon as be stepped foot in the premises.

Calling out to him with what Wonwoo was sure was tipsiness bordering on drunkness, he winced at their gestures for him to join them, groaning inwardly before walking up to them.

It wasn't as if Wonwoo didn't want to hang out with his friends, but he had already drank a bit prior to arriving home and did not want any encouragement in continuing — especially knowing he had to record for the show early the next morning.

"Where're you coming from so smiley?", teased Seokmin, pulling at Wonwoo's arm with a joking flirtatious smile.

"Disappearing alone at night for extended hours ... Are we going to need to draw up an NDA for you?", added Mingyu, canines bared due to his teasing smile.

"Shut up," he grumbled, swatting Seokmin's hand away from him in fake anger, but unable to completely hide the grin he'd had on his face since seeing you.

"Oh! Did you see that?", Seokmin gasped, slapping Mingyu's chest to get his attention, only earning a groan from the man at the sudden impact, "He's smiling! It's true! You were with a girl!"

"That much was obvious," added Mingyu, "The real question is who is it?"

With both boys facing him with expectant looks on their faces, Wonwoo had no option but to groan.

"We're going to drop this, actually. And we're all going to go to sleep since we have to record tomorrow morning," he declared, dragging both boys by their arms in encouragement to stand up.

Groaning in unison, the two large men allowed Wonwoo to push them in the direction of the entrance with him following close behind. He needed tomorrow's recording to go by quickly in order to run straight over to you.

After battling with a few other members who teased him over the pleased look on his face (was he that obvious?), he finally headed to bed. As per usual, you were in his thoughts, but some anxiety now joined in in the mixture of emotions he usually felt after a nightly outing with you.

It was hard not to feel nervous for what he interpreted to be your first date. Except that no such thing was ever confirmed by either of you. As far as he was aware, tomorrow was just you showing a lonely foreigner around one of the many popular sights in the city.

No part of Wonwoo believed you'd lead him on on purpose, but deep inside him he felt that he might've made everything up in his head. There was no way you'd kiss him like that if you didn't feel something for him, right? Or well, he had been the one to initiate that kiss (one that was uncharacteristically nasty, but insanely hot). Had he gone too far? Fuck, maybe sticking his tongue in your mouth had been too much ...

His mind was going a mile a minute.

He decided to chalk these thoughts up to be the usual insecurities he felt late into the night. Everyone knew that late night thoughts were always misleading, and so he hoped this was one of those cases.

The following morning, Wonwoo spent in a constant state of anxiety.

Not only was he nervous to see you right after your first kiss (a rather nasty one at that), but he kept panicking that the recording would run too long and he would miss you altogether. On top of that, he had the usual first date nerves. He kept debating on what to wear (not that he had ample options considering he was not allowed to pack before getting kidnapped), what to bring you, whether he should take you elsewhere after the tour of the museum.

But luckily for Wonwoo, most of his worries died down one by one.

As it usually happened, the recording ended right at the expected time, leaving Wonwoo with more than enough time to choose an outfit and do his hair just right — he even had time for a quick stop to get you some flowers.

Your reaction to last night's kiss had also not been as terrible as he expected. On the contrary, you welcomed him with a sweet peck on his lips, wrapping your arms around his own as you liked to do before thanking him for the flowers.

Your first 'date' also went amazingly. The tour of your workplace had been fun and filled with expert information you'd memorized to the letter as the usual tour guide at the establishment. After the quick tour, you had even insisted you and Wonwoo take a walk to a nearby street food vendor so you could extend your time together.

All in all, the evening went incredibly well. Well enough that Wonwoo didn't think to worry about what was different about tonight's outing, which was the daytime aspect of it all.

Completely unsuspecting, the last thing Wonwoo would've expected was to bump into any of his members while he enjoyed a shared smoothie with you.

Far too content in your company, he took no notice of the three nosy men watching him from a distance, stopping in their tracks and discretely pointing at him while they whispered scandalously at one another.

Their whispers in Korean were loud enough to catch his attention, making him look their way while you were distracted looking at pretty items set out by street vendors. Looking in their direction, Wonwoo's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he began to mouth expletives at them, scolding at them to leave him alone.

The three boys at hand, Jeonghan, Joshua and Seungkwan, just so happened to be some of the nosiest men he'd ever met, meaning that be already knew how this interaction would end.

With smirks in their faces, they headed over to him, eyeing you before throwing secret smiles and winks at Wonwoo.

"Wonwoo! Long time no see!," began Joshua, his voice calling your attention and causing you to join Wonwoo in facing them.

"Who's the pretty girl?", asked Seungkwan in Korean before stretching his hand out to you and introducing himself in English.

You introduced yourself back with a bright smile, "You can speak Korean, I understand," you added afterwards, causing eyebrows to lift.

"Pretty and smart. You pick them well, Nonu," joined Jeonghan, offering you a handshake of his own along with an introduction.

Wonwoo, annoyed at his friends, cleared his throat, "These are the friends I was telling you about. The ones I'm on vacation with," he made sure to enunciate the correct words, attempting to give his friends a hint of what he'd told you about their situation.

"Oh, yeah! I remember their names. You guys work with Wonwoo at the entertainment company, right?," you inadvertently finished the thought for them.

They all caught on pretty quick, nodding along while they forced smiles from their faces at Wonwoo's omission of the truth.

To be fair, with only five days left in Italy, Wonwoo had done very well in concealing such a huge aspect of his life. He was surprised he'd managed to go along with it for this long.

"That's us," replied Joshua, "But he's told us nothing about you. How'd you two meet?", there was a teasing tone in his voice, one that was so subtle only Wonwoo and his friends could take note of it.

You explained your first meeting, elbowing Wonwoo halfheartedly for keeping you a secret from his friends. Wonwoo joined in to add some details of your dynamic, but neither of you ever stated a label to describe you.

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, your outing was completely taken over by the three men, leaving him as a side character to your encounter. You took a lot of interest to his friends, which was the only silver lining of it all, Wonwoo supposed. He was happy to see how well you got along, but was also frustrated that some of his last moments with you were being used up by someone else.

When they finally left you alone (after a lot of subtle insistence from Wonwoo), the two of you were finally left to yourselves as per usual. It was already nighttime by then, however, so Wonwoo didn't have much time with you before having to head back to the villa with the guys.

As per usual, you had a few street snacks and walked arm to arm, content with the comfortable silence offered by the city. You'd each interrupt the silence with the occasional short-lived conversation, but it was still just as enjoyable.

It continued like this up until you suddenly stopped whilst on the way to the usual path Wonwoo took to walk you home.

"Wonwoo?", you asked, slight reluctance in your voice.

"Yeah?", he hummed, looking at you with slight worry yet sincerity in his eyes.

You swallowed before speaking. Your brows were furrowed with what seemed to be worry and your overall demeanor seemed less bright than usual.

"Will we see each other again after you leave? Or is this just a summer thing?", you bit your lip as you asked.

Wonwoo couldn't help but feel some sadness at your words.

Every part of him wanted to see you again. He knew a long distance relationship would be risky and difficult, specially with his day job, but he wanted to at least try. Maybe one day you could come see him? Or he could come back here? He still had to figure out how to ease you into even finding out about his lifestyle, but he trusted that you'd be understanding.

He stood in front of you and grabbed onto your hands reassuringly, bringing them up to his lips for a light kiss on the back of the palm of each. You smiled at this, silently understanding his reassurance.

"I'd take you back with me right now if I could," he began, "But if you ever happen to drop by Korea, I'd have to return the favor of showing you around," he ended with a smile.

"That sounds like an invitation for me to give you a surprise visit."

"Please give me a surprise visit. Give me all the surprise visits," he bit his lip in amusement.

It was agreed then, though hidden in jest, that this was not the last of you. This summer fling was the beginning to something Wonwoo ached to explore since the moment he met you.

His departure away from you and the perfect vacation was not easy. No tears were shed, but one last chaste kiss was had. It was one of the only kisses shared by you outside of the one that almost led him to his knees, begging to take you upstairs (though he was sure you wouldn't have objected).

After your chance meeting with Joshua, Jeonghan and Seungkwan, it wasn't late until the rest of the guys heard the news. His last few days at the villa with the boys were spent with constant teasing about Wonwoo's 'summer fling' as they liked to call it. Wonwoo had to hold back from correcting them, chuckling to himself at knowing it'd just provoke their teasing to increase tenfold.

Immediately after landing in Korea, Wonwoo turned his phone back on to find a message from you telling him to have a good flight and call when he arrived home signed off by a kissy emoji — a very important detail to add, according to Wonwoo.

His response to you came in the form of a short greeting, though your response after that morphed into an incoming call. Wonwoo suddenly remembered the seven hour time difference, realizing it wasn't too big.

Picking up the call, he mentally prepared himself to hear your voice again.

"Hi," he could hear the smile in your voice.

"Hi," he returned, shy, "I was kind of worried you wouldn't call," he found himself admitting.

"What, why?" your smile was replaced by a pout, he could tell.

"I don't know. Just thought maybe I was just a summer fling type of thing, that you were just too nice to let me down in person," he couldn't help but think back to the words of the members.

"It's too late to get rid of me, Wonwoo. Should've given me a fake name and number to ward me off."

"Maybe I did. Maybe it was all a lie," he joked, though still realizing it was sort of a half-truth.

"Oh my god, don't say that!", you giggled, "I can't see your face, you'll make me think you're being serious."

"Was I not obvious enough about how crazy I am about you last I saw you?"

He knew he had absolutely not been obvious about it. He was too shy in person. The boldness was only coming out due to the lack of interpersonal interaction.

"No. I'm pretty sure I was the one who was obvious," you smiled again (he was so sure of it).

"Well, I'll have to make sure to let you know next time I see you."

"Oh? Is that a date, then? We've known each other for a month and I only got one date out of you. That's kind of mean of you, don't you think?"

Okay, you clearly weren't smiling anymore. You were teasing him, and Wonwoo could very well remember that look on your face any time you knew you had the upper hand on him.

Wonwoo bit his lip through the grin he could just not get out of his face, "I'll take you on as many dates as you want as soon as we're in the same country again," he promised and meant it.

"Is that a way to convince me to get on a plane to Korea right now? Because it's working."

He wished that were true.

"I'll catch a flight back to you the moment my schedule allows, I promise," he hoped the desperation to see you in his voice wasn't pathetically obvious.

"We'll see who gets to the other first," you challenged.

Wonwoo pondered on the thought of you in his home country. He still remembered the many times you'd 'threatened' to drop in on him without warning. The thought made him nervous, but part of him kind of hoped it was more than a joke to express your excitement to see him after you were a few countries apart. The reality of you coming to Korea would be slightly more grim, however, considering that it'd be virtually impossible for him to hide his career from you here the way he had in Italy. Being frank, he was pretty surprised you hadn't somehow figured it out yet.

Your call continued for about an hour before you caught on to the tiredness in his voice and insisted he go to sleep. After some half-hearted insistence to stay on call (only to be refuted by you), he finally hung up and headed over to bed.

This routine of calling and texting multiple times a day continued through the following few months. Despite his busy schedules, Wonwoo managed to make time for you almost every single day. The time difference actually ended up working in Wonwoo's favor, seeing as by the time he was done with his day yours was barely starting.

Much to Wonwoo's dismay, the way in which you became official was much less romantic than he would've loved to provide to you, but only a few weeks into your daily calls and his heart just insisted he needed to make things official. He had been scared as soon as the question left his mouth, but your enthusiastic agreement alleviated him extremely. He felt an unexplored sort of giddiness at having you officially be his girlfriend.

Occasionally you'd whine about missing him, something which he soon learned to tame through either teasing or reassurance (it depended on his mood). His confidence when speaking to you grew through the hours of calls and face-times shared between you, along with your more frequent use of Korean when speaking with him. He was so smitten with you, though, that he'd begun taking both English and Italian lessons on his rare time off. Maybe he could surprise you with that someday.

Some months of pure long-distance bliss were spent like this. The guys had been made aware of his relationship and were nothing less than supportive, though the occasional worry was brought up by a few members about his lack of communication when it came to his career. This worried Wonwoo too, but an uncharacteristically selfish part of himself was just too scared of the consequences behind it to break the news any time soon.

It was unfortunate for Wonwoo that that decision would ultimately not fall down to him.

Wonwoo woke up that day ready for a grueling day of practice just like any other.

Most days seemed to blend together as of late. No overseas schedules seemed to be in the horizon for the foreseeable future, which meant that Wonwoo's job for the time being mostly consisted on working on future comebacks in advance and a few shoots here and there.

His life had been pretty menial for a while (at least as menial as an idol's life could be). Your calls continued to fit perfectly with his schedule, and he hadn't had to miss one in weeks.

Four months into your relationship (and about six since knowing you) and you continued to go very strong. Wonwoo had released bits and pieces of his career to you at varying times, hoping to somehow ease you into the knowledge that he had omitted a large truth of his life from you. He'd been open about working in entertainment, having producing experience, working an unpredictable schedule, and traveling a lot. Although these were all true, he still felt an itch at his heart bugging at him for not just coming out and telling you 'I'm a K-Pop idol with millions of fans! I can't date publicly because of my job! I am far from home almost 90% of the time! My entire life is watched at all times!' Perhaps it was the knowledge that that information was incredibly intimidating. But it was also due to how far he had dug himself into this lie.

Wonwoo was surprised you hadn't looked up his name online by now. You'd exchanged instagrams with each other (though, to be fair, he had given you his private, friends and family only, account), but a nosier person than you would've already typed Wonwoo onto some search engine and found him to be the very first result accompanied by hours of content related to him and his members. Part of him was scared you'd actually do it one day and proceed to ghost him due to either the pressure of his career or the blatant lie he'd told you (and kept up) upon meeting you.

Today was one of the many days in which this thought crept into his head. Some days it bothered him more than others, which was why he had already set up a plan to go back down to Italy as soon as fashion week began next month and finally tell you in person. He owed you that much.

For now he'd just let it go, hoping you'd find it in yourself to forgive him for not being open with you from the start while also being happy at the prospect of seeing you again.

This happiness, sadly, did not last Wonwoo for too long. It all started going downhill when you'd called him earlier than normal that same morning.

It was odd. It was about 3AM in Italy when he'd gotten the call. Not one to ever miss a chance to talk to you, though, he picked up without hesitation. This was when everything started crumbling down.

"Wonwoo!", you exclaimed excitedly into the phone.

"Babe? Hi. It's so late over there, what's up?"

The usage of pet names was still new, but he couldn't help in giving into it with no hesitation.

"Nope, don't think so. It's bright and sunny right now."

"Hmm? Are you outside? This late? What are you up to, pretty?", he smiled as he said so, amused yet confused at your words.

"Wanna guess where I am?", the smile could still be heard in your voice.

"Heading home, I'm hoping? It's late, baby. You got a ride?", he couldn't help but continue to express concern. You weren't much the type to be out further than 1AM or so.

"Wonwoo!," you interrupted, "God you're so difficult to surprise- I'm in Korea!"

His former steps halted the moment you spoke, leaving him standing in the middle of a hallway at the Hybe building as he headed to his following destination. You were wrong. Apparently he was very easy to surprise.

"You're- what?"

"Surprise! They're remodeling the museum so I took up a writing job online in the meantime. It's all remote, so I thought why not come visit you. Excited?", he could hear the kiddish excitement in your voice.

"Baby, what? You're here? Wait, where? Are you joking? You're really here?", he looked to his surroundings as if you'd suddenly spawn there.

"Well not here here. I'm at the airport still. I was hoping to surprise you at your apartment, but then I remembered I don't actually have your address," you giggled, "Any way you'd give a girl a lift over to your place? I promise to be good."

The flirtatious turn to your tone almost made Wonwoo forget about all the implications that came with you being in Korea. He had half the mind to leave work right now and run into your arms as he often saw in romantic movies upon a reunion of lovers.

That's when he remembered who he was and where he was currently standing. He had more than enough flexibility as a senior idol to take off for the day and whisk you off your feet and over to his apartment. However, it was the trip in between that proved problematic seeing as Jeon Wonwoo would easily be spotted at the airport, especially if he had a pretty girl in his arms while there.

But this thought didn't stop Wonwoo from happily agreeing to picking you up. You were the girl he was in love with, having traveled all the way to him in hopes of being received with open arms. There was no timeline in which he'd ever say no to you.

"I- I'll pick you up," he stuttered, unable to mask his nerves, "I'll be there in twenty minutes, okay, baby? Can you come meet me in the parking lot? I won't be able to get out of the car. I- I'll explain later, okay?", he attempted.

You hesitated for a moment before responding, "Uh, okay, Nonu. Whatever works for you. Tell me you're excited to see me, at least?", you encouraged with a pout somehow noticeable in your tone.

"You have no idea how happy I am. God, I can't wait to see you, angel," he couldn't help the dulcet tone that took over his voice. He probably looked like a freak to any staff member passing by.

"You better be. I don't travel to another country just for any man."

"I'm the luckiest man," he entertained you (whilst fully believing the statement), "Stay where you are, okay? I'll text you where to meet me once I'm there. Be good and don't talk to any strangers," he couldn't help but warn worriedly.

"Yes, dad," you jokingly mocked, "See you soon, Nonu. Love you, mwuah!" you did a kissy sound at the phone, demanding one back from him before finally hanging up.

Wonwoo practically ran over to his manager after that, asking for the keys to the car in which he was usually driven while in Korea. He explained the situation to anyone who needed to be privy to it before heading over to you, anxious yet excited to see you. Once there, he parked somewhere easy enough to locate and called you in order to direct you to his current location.

The moment he saw you from a distance, he couldn't help but let a smile take over his entire face. It hurt from how big and annoyingly there it was, but he hadn't felt this giddy in months. The only moment that beat it was when you also noticed his car, practically running to it with your suitcases dragging behind you. It took everything in Wonwoo not to get out of the car, which served as a reminder of the uncomfortable conversation that was to come. All was forgotten, though, the moment you entered the unlocked car and immediately jumped at Wonwoo to the best of your ability inside the small space on the front seat.

"Nonu!", you squealed, wrapping your arms around him and practically making your way over to his lap. Your door was still open and your suitcases sitting right behind you, but your priorities were clear.

Wonwoo's arms wrapped right around you, squeezing you against his chest as he nuzzled his head into your hair, humming at the warmth you immediately provided him with.

"Missed you so much. You have no idea, pretty girl."

"I have some idea," you hummed back, attempting to pull away but being denied by a tightening of Wonwoo's arms around you, to which you responded with a giggle.

"Give me one more minute," he murmured.

After what was easily more than a minute, you finally pulled away, creating enough distance to look into his eyes with a smile that mirrored his own.

"I want to kiss you, but I'm also hyperaware of my suitcases being stolen," you giggled, "You guys got any pickpockets in Korea?"

He laughed, "Get your stuff in the car, pretty. I'll kiss you all you want when I get you back home."

"Oooh, home? Am I staying at your place then? Stealing me away already?"

"Yup, I'm holding you hostage for as long as you're in Korea," he said nonchalantly as he started the car after you'd logged your stuff onto the backseat.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

To Wonwoo's fortune, his car's windows were tinted from outside view, which meant he did not have to worry about anyone seeing you with him. He was also lucky enough to not have bumped into any Seventeen related billboards or such that may have given away his identity. But despite this, Wonwoo knew he had to break the news to you sooner rather than later. During his ride over to the airport he'd decided to tell you as soon as he got you settled at his apartment. There was no use in delaying it.

"Woah, how rich are you? This place looks so expensive," you wowed at him as soon as you stepped foot in his and Mingyu's shared luxury loft.

He chuckled and dismissed your compliment, opting instead to move your suitcases to the side so he could finally envelop you in a proper hug. There were no complains from you, or at least that's what he got from the sigh of contentment you released against his chest at his embrace. Swaying you back and forth a bit, he pressed you impossibly close to him, taking his time to enjoy the faint smell of your perfume that had somehow survived your flight. You had a warmth to you, probably brought from the nap he was sure you'd taken during your flight. It felt far too nice to hold you like this.

"God, you missed me so bad," you teased, chin propping itself on his chest and staring up at him with a grin.

"Not gonna deny it," he murmured, pecking your lips when you puckered them up at him.

Falling into domesticity with you felt completely natural to Wonwoo. He was slightly surprised at the realization that he no longer felt the same nerves around you that he did back in Italy. It might've been the tons of hours spent on facetime calls, but it was still unexpected to Wonwoo. You simply brought a brand new level of comfort to him.

"Well, kiss me about it!", you pouted, continuing to pucker your lips to demand more kisses.

Leaning down, he finally captured your lips in the way he had been wanting to since that tipsy kiss back in Italy. His hands held onto the small of your back while yours found a home in the treces of his hair. You'd mentioned you liked the length, which had been a great contributor in his denial to do any changes to it when his stylists suggested so upon his return to Korea.

The kiss grew more heated than Wonwoo had planned, but he couldn't help himself in wanting to enjoy you while he had the chance. The two of you were finally together in the daylight, behind closed doors and alone. This was a circumstance you had never had the privilege of being under.

It was you who began walking backwards, Wonwoo believed, but he wasn't too sure seeing as his feet followed you anyway. He made sure your head didn't bump into the wall once you'd reached it, but his focus was quickly taken right back to you at the increase in proximity. Practically molded into each other, you continued to explore each other's mouths with a mixture of frustration and need.

It was quite reminiscent of your first kiss. It was heavy and loaded with yearning. Humming into your mouth, Wonwoo gasped when he felt you readjust his hands so he could feel you up in ways he'd been imagining but did not think he'd have the balls to do once he found himself in your presence. Taking note of the silent consent, he let his hands enjoy the curves of your body and swallow any moans that left you as a result.

"Nonu," you mumbled when his lips began trailing down, teeth gracing lightly at your skin, "Should we go to your room?"

He didn't respond, instead pressing a few more kisses on you before taking hold of your hand to lead you into the couch located in the living room— he had no headspace to make it to his room. Once there, you became immediately excited to push him on the couch, straddling his hips as he say at the edge of it and continuing your ministrations.

"Is this okay?", you sighed into his lips upon beginning to feel up the skin under his shirt, fingers itching to fully remove it.

A nod from him was seemingly all you needed to begin unbuttoning his shirt while Wonwoo himself allowed his own hands to explore the skin under your clothes.

Everything was happening so fast, but neither you nor Wonwoo had it in you to stop. There had been tension between you every night you met up in Italy, and somehow this tension only continued to build with the distance suddenly placed between you. If it had been up to Wonwoo, he would've taken this all the way to the end, and then some. Already with a fully unbuttoned shirt and your own gone altogether, Wonwoo was ready to bury his head in your bra-covered breasts and let you grind on him until his brain was complete mush.

But then you suddenly stopped.

"Hmph," you grunted between kisses, pulling away and looking over his shoulder with a muted gasp. You pointed behind him as you halted the movements of your hips while Wonwoo was still on a daze caused by your lips.

"What's that?"

With some effort, Wonwoo turned his body as much as he could, having to maneuver you on top of him as he zeroed in on what you were looking at and- fuck.

"Is that you?," you got up, heading over to the object that had caught your attention, "Is that Elle magazine?"

By then, you'd gotten off him altogether, walking over to the section of his living room that held the small make-shift shrine of magazines Mingyu had insisted on making a few weeks ago. This wall had multiple magazines hung on it, with a majority of them being Mingyu's while the rest were some of Wonwoo's.

"Is that Kim Mingyu? Wait, shit. Your roommate– Your Mingyu is the Kim Mingyu? Wonwoo, what the fuck?"

You were now standing next to the shrine, only donning a bra as you looked to Wonwoo with immense confusion in your face all while he continued to feel a tingle on his lips due to your previous activities.

Wonwoo had told you the names of all his friends throughout your time of knowing each other, blindly hoping that you'd be none the wiser — which you'd been. So he was slightly shocked at the sudden realization that you somehow made the connection between his roommate Mingyu and the Kim Mingyu currently displayed multiple times on his wall.

"You know Mingyu?", he asked dumbfounded, clearly not focusing on the actual matter at hand.

"I saw he was at Paris fashion week and on some billboards-," you interrupted yourself with a shake of your head, "That's not important!" you went to grab at one of the many magazines displaying Wonwoo, "You're on a magazine cover? Wonwoo, are you ... Oh my God, you're- are you an idol?", you finally asked.

To Wonwoo's dismay, your shock did not seem like the positive kind that he'd grown used to any time people found out he was part of a popular idol group. No, your shock seemed more so frustrated, angry even.

Getting up, his hands went to halfheartedly cover up his chest by closing his unbuttoned shirt before carefully making his way to you.

"I- I'll explain, okay? Can we sit down? I'll answer any questions you have, just sit with me," he practically pleaded, hesitant in extending his hand for you to take and sighing in relief when you accepted it, letting him lead you back to the couch, sitting side by side this time.

Your body turned to his, "Wonwoo-"

"Yeah, I'm an idol," he began, giving up on his ruse, "I'm in a group called Seventeen with Mingyu. I, uh, I was recording a variety show while we were in Italy. That's why I could only ever see you at night. That's also why I couldn't get out of the car when I picked you up," he let it out all at once.

You sat there in silence, eyebrows raised in shock and mouth adorned with a slight frown. Your appearance didn't give Wonwoo a feeling of anger, but rather something worse — disappointment.

At your silence, Wonwoo cleared his throat and continued.

"I didn't mean to lie to you. When I met you, I was sure I'd never see you again after those first few days, but then we kept meeting, and, and then we kissed and started, well, our relationship, I guess. Before I knew it, I ended up liking you far more than I'd ever allowed myself to like anyone before," he rambled, hands anxiously squeezing your own every so often, "I thought that I'd be ruining what we had if I told you the truth and I'd end up scaring you off or that you wouldn't see me the same anymore," he took a deep breath before continuing, "But I'm sorry. I never should've kept this from you. Specially not for as long as I did. I should've trusted you with this and not blindsided you like this, and I'm so, so sorry."

By the time he finished you were still silent, looking down at your intertwined hands rather than at him and with a sad look on your face. Wonwoo decided to give you a few moments before he attempted to speak again, hoping that his apology might at least be the beginning of him making it up to you.

After what felt like hours, but was likely mere seconds of silence, you finally landed your gaze on him, gulping before speaking up.

"Wonwoo, I- Did you think I could be that shallow as to care about you being an idol?", you sounded hurt as you said it, though you continued to give him the privilege of holding your hand.

"No, no, it's nothing like that, I-"

"Then why didn't you trust me? I understand not telling me while we were in Italy, but, now? We've been doing long distance for months. We've said I love you to each other. Did I- did I do something to make you not trust me?"

"No!", he couldn't help but feel exasperated.

He cleared his throat, wanting nothing more than to remain calm and show you how apologetic he was the best that he possibly could. Squeezing your hands once more, he shifted on the couch again, propped leg touching your own as he pleaded with his eyes.

"It wasn't about you. I need you to please understand that. Nothing about you made me distrust or want to lie to you," he took a breath, "This was all me. I was insecure and panicked and ended up lying to you in the process. I should've told you. There's no fixing my mistake, but I want you to know that I love you and I trust you. Completely. I was going to tell you as soon as we made plans for you to come visit me, or as soon as I went back to Italy, whichever came first. I- I couldn't do this over the phone. I owed you that much, at least."

Wonwoo had said his piece. He liked to think he was good with words, writing them for a living and all, but with you sitting in front of him, distrust in your eyes, he felt like he'd spoken all the words imaginable and had been left with nothing coherent enough to convey his feelings. He wished he had the same poetic tongue he showed off to his fans time and time again, but you were on an entirely different league to him.

"I'm just ... hurt. I'm hurt you didn't tell me. I'm hurt that I didn't know about this huge part of your life that clearly means a lot to you," you paused for a second to sniffle, showing the first sign of crying that Wonwoo hoped wouldn't come, "I'm hurt you'd be willing to have sex with me while still lying about your identity."

Oh.

Oh, he-

"Would you have told me after we'd slept together? Or were you just going to give me an NDA to sign right after?", there was a slight tone of snark in your voice as you let go of his hand for the first time.

Wonwoo felt hurt by your words. He knew you didn't mean them. That you knew he felt more for you than to string you along just to send you running with a legal document detailing your contractual obligation to keep whatever happened between you a secret. But this still didn't take away the sting.

But no part of him blamed you. It was possible that you did feel like he'd been using you. That he took advantage of your lack of knowledge of him to live out some fantasy of his in which he didn't have to worry about being an idol.

"I'm sorry. I'd never- it was never like that for me. You weren't just an NDA to me. I wanted to keep you away from all that stuff for as long as I could. But I never consulted you about it. I should've let you decide whether you wanted-" he cleared his throat, swallowing the vile building there, "whether you'd still want to be with me despite that."

Upon looking into your eyes, he saw a slight change in your demeanor. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes had begun forming tears, tears which your hands immediately reached up to wipe at with the most delicacy imaginable. His lips tugged up slightly at your demonstration of affection. One of his hands came up to hold yours hostage against his cheek, leaning into it when you caressed it. Your eyes now showed more compassion than anything, with your frustration at him being overtaken by care for him.

"I'm sorry, I-" he went to apologize, only to be interrupted by your moving closer to him on the couch and sushing him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I know you didn't- I know you wouldn't do that, I'm just ... I'm just mad, I'm sorry," you needlessly apologized, causing Wonwoo to shake his head in an exasperated manner.

"You should be mad. I lied to you," he chuckled sadly at your frown. It made him melt how your immediate reaction to him crying was to push everything aside and comfort him.

"I'm not actually angry. I'm just disappointed. I feel like there's this huge part of your life I was just left out of while I opened myself up to you entirely," you mumbled sadly.

"I know," he whispered, not knowing what else to say and being entirely too scared that anything else would make you take your hands away from him.

A moment of silence passed by while you both sniffled and you continued to wipe at his silent tears. His hand held onto your empty one, heart accelerating at how you held his back.

"I would've liked you just the same, you know," you mumbled a few moments later.

"What?", he asked as if he hadn't heard you.

"I wouldn't've minded your job. I would've liked you just as much as I already do. I- I would've been willing to put the extra work it would've taken for us to be together if necessary," you continued.

His stomach churned. He knew this. Deep within him, he felt a connection so strong, which he knew was entirely mutual. The thought made him happy, but that was quickly taken away when he remembered the context of the conversation.

"I know," he rasped, "I- I should've known," he corrected, "I'm sorry."

Wonwoo was unsure as to what was supposed to happen next. He wanted to leave it up to you. No matter what your decision was, he'd respect it.

"I don't want you to beat yourself up over it, Wonwoo. I just ... I think I need a little while to think things over, if that's okay," you looked to him with a small smile which he returned.

"Yes, of course. Anything you need. Do you- do you want me to get you a hotel? Or ... Would you still want to stay with me?," he felt so pathetic asking, but he held the hope that you'd still be willing to stay with him.

"Of course I want to stay here. I told you, Wonwoo, I don't travel to another country for just any man," you joked lightheartedly, making Wonwoo chuckle lightly.

The conversation mostly ended there. You continued to awkwardly put your shirt back on and settled yourself in his room. He decided to stay at home for the rest of the day, attempting to mend things with you.

You continued to treat him as usual, occasionally asking him about his career, to which he responded awkwardly but attempted to keep things casual as to not make the situation uncomfortable. For the most part, he helped you settle down, as you'd informed him you'd be staying for two months due to the duration of your current assignment. At some point you'd offered to stay at a hotel, likely sensing his change of demeanor after your argument, but he profusely insisted you stay.

When it was time to sleep, he felt even more awkward, not knowing whether he should offer to sleep in the living room or bunk with Mingyu to avoid making you uncomfortable by staying on the same bed.

"Don't be dumb. I don't mind sleeping together," had been your nonchalant response, not noticing his reaction at the implication.

"Are you sure? I don't-"

"Wonwoo!", you suddenly raised your voice, pinching at your eyebrows in frustration afterwards, "I'm not mad at you."

You made your way over to him, putting down some of the stuff you'd been organizing in the walk-in bathroom located in his room. Once in front of him, you hesitated for a second but opted to hold his hands as you often liked to do.

"I want to spend time with you. Let's just ... let's try to move past it. I'm not angry, I just need to process it a bit, okay? I'd still like to share a bed with you, if you want that too," you looked shy for a mere second, "I've always thought about cuddling you," you finished with a small giggle.

Wonwoo smiled fondly at you, letting his guard down the most he had been since this afternoon's situation. He went on a whim and hugged you, pressing you comfortably against his chest.

"I'd love that. Thank you," he found himself thanking you as he led you to bed, humming happily when you removed any distance from between the two of you as soon as you laid down.

"I've always wanted this," he whispered against you, arms holding you safely against him.

"Me too," you whispered.

Like that, you fell into slumber, giving Wonwoo a brand new hope that things would be okay.

The following day started very differently than originally imagined. Part of Wonwoo was convinced it had all been a dream. The groggy part of him as he laid there, pressed up against you and only about 10% awake was truly convinced that he was currently in a dream state.

Which was why what followed didn't seem out of the ordinary for him.

This had not been the first time Wonwoo had dreamt of you.

Although most of his dreams were sweet and innocent, filled with your pretty smile and sweet touch, there were a few outliers. These were some which he was mostly embarrassed by, but he really couldn't deny enjoying them.

This dream seemed like a bit of a rollercoaster, really. It all began with you coming to visit him? In Korea? Man, was he elated to have you. But then the inevitable happened. You'd found out about his lies. You'd gotten hurt by him. He'd disappointed you.

He was unsure how the rest progressed, but somehow he ended up in bed with you, sharing an 'I love you' before falling asleep by your side.

What ensued after had been his favorite part.

Having you pressed up so closely against him had an immediate effect, or at least so much was obvious by the sudden tightness of his boxers. His hips took a mind of their own as they pressed further against the ass curved so perfectly against him.

His hands held tightly onto your hips, beginning to slowly hump against you.

Many of his M rated dreams about you went on like this. It'd start with some scenario involving you and eventually evolve into Wonwoo humping his bed in his sleep, but it always felt entirely too real.

Almost as real as now, but maybe not quite.

Maybe because this was real. It just took Wonwoo a little while to realize it.

What began to break him out of his sleepy daze had been the breathy sigh he heard in his vicinity. But what truly took him right out was when his pillow(?) pushed back against him, drawing a pathetic whimper from his throat.

Opening his eyes, he then realized the reality of the situation.

He just so happened to have his pretty girl actually on his bed.

It all came back to him immediately. The surprise visit, the almost-sex, the revelation, the crying, the reconciliation, everything.

But his hips never stopped moving.

And when they did, he suddenly felt a hand draw back and press his own hand further into your hip, a whisper of a voice coming out.

"Keep going, Nonu ..." you said, pushing yourself even harder into him.

With a groan, he buried his face into your neck, kissing the skin he found there. This was when he really lost himself.

"Fuck," he groaned, hips humping you with desperation. It was that morning sensitivity that had him acting on impulse, he knew this, but he still couldn't help himself — especially when you began moaning along.

"Take off your pants," you grunted.

It was obvious to Wonwoo what you wanted to do, which was why no objection was had as he undid the drawstring of his pajamas before pulling out his dick just enough for you to dig behind you and take hold of it in the pretty hands he'd dreamed of many times before.

Lowering your own sleeping shorts just enough, you did the unexpected, burying his cock between the nonexistent space between your thighs and encouraging him to hump his dick against him.

He gasped at the tightness, feeling the upper side of his dick be permeated with the wetness you'd released. His brain piratically short-circuited at knowing just how close you were to him.

"Baby," he grunted.

"Feel good, Nonu?", you grinned. He couldn't see your face, but he just knew.

Head still buried against you, he whined a pathetic 'yes' while he sucked love bites into your neck. It was downright pitiful how good he felt without actually fucking you, but his hips just wouldn't stop seeking that tightness.

He continued to grace your cunt, giving you what knew must've been a frustrating amount of stimulation — enough to have you wanting more, but lacking the fulfillment he could easily give you once inside you.

Wonwoo really wanted to make you cum. God, did he want to flip you to your back and have his way. But this felt so fucking good. It was a lost battle and you knew it. It had been your plan from the moment he'd woken you up by grinding against you. It was all so transparent to Wonwoo. You wanted to torture him, and god did he want to be tortured.

With a few more thrusts between your thighs, he finished. The whimpers left against your skin would've been embarrassing had he not felt the pulsing of your cunt any time a sound left his throat. You liked it, and he wanted to give you everything you liked.

You turned around afterwards, now facing him and immediately stealing a kiss from him. No words needed to be shared when he'd missed your kiss so much. Not when he felt so good as he kissed you. Making love to your mouth as badly as he wanted to your cunt, he kissed you until you were both out of breath.

His leg caught onto your middle, sneaking its way between your legs as you dragged your cunt against it whilst continuing your kiss. Your pants and heavy breaths landed directly into his mouth, but he welcomed it, ensuring your lips remained connected. Dragging your middle up and down his leg, he could feel your high approaching. You pulsed and writhed at the friction, angling yourself however you saw fit while Wonwoo aided you by dragging his leg in synch.

With a broken gasp, you came while Wonwoo's embrace never left you. A visceral reaction overtook him during your orgasm. The sight and feeling of the pretty girl he'd been thinking about for months finally falling apart under his barely-there touch had the most obvious effect — he was hard, again.

"Wonwoo," you breathed out after catching your breath. Your hand found his chin, angling him to look into your eyes.

"Hmm?", he was slightly nervous at how deadpan your tone sounded.

"I need you to fuck me."

"A-ah," he grunted when you guided him on top of you, "Are you sure?" he breathed once hovering over you.

"Extremely."

"But-"

"Wonwoo, I love you. I've been wanting this since Italy. It's okay, I promise," you went to hold his face in your hands, smiling that pretty smile at him as you spoke, topping it off with a chaste peck.

"I love you too," he smiled back, connecting your lips for a longer kiss.

The rest was pretty much history. Your bodies molded with one another, foreplay becoming far too natural for your first time together. You kissed and felt every inch of each other's bodies before Wonwoo blindly patted his end table for a condom, entering you when you continued to insist on him doing so.

He groaned into your neck, puffing hot air against your sweaty skin at just how perfectly he felt. He'd missed your presence so bad, but he didn't realize he could miss this despite having never had it before. It was clear to him now that there was no way he could ever let you leave Korea again. He'd have to ditch his job and hike a flight back to Italy or simply hold you hostage in Seoul.

Or maybe that was just the pussydrunkness speaking.

"Move," you whined after too many seconds spent by Wonwoo attempting not to lose himself as soon as he entered you.

It became even more tortuous when he began bumping in and out of you. He found the perfect rhythm immediately, with your hips humping upwards and aiding him in the task. He wasn't sure if it was because you just so happened to be made for him or if it was due to how much he loved you, but the feeling of you was completely unrivaled by anything else he'd experienced in his 28 years of life.

His arms went to the back of your thighs, lifting them further up his waist to hold you as close to him as possible. Your responded by digging your nails into his biceps, crying out his name when the canting of his hips just became too much to handle.

"Fuck, just like that," you sighed, "R-right there!", was your next respond when he angled you just perfectly.

Knowing his orgasm was just moments away, he followed your every direction, becoming in tune with your body almost immediately. His thumb was practically glued to your clit, working different patterns until he found one that had your eyes rolling back. It was hard not to become obsessed with your pleasure upon getting a taste of it.

"F-fuck. Gonna cum, Nonu," your nails dragged down his back.

He hissed at the pain, but drank it all in. His grunts encouraged you to do whatever you wanted to him. He was yours from now on.

"Cum, pretty. I'm right behind you," he panted. That dancer's stamina was really paying off right now.

Your orgasm led directly to his own, with mumbles of 'I love you's muttered as mantras as you both entered and rode your highs. The sticky sweat shared between your bodies did not bother Wonwoo as he nuzzled against you, making sure he did not drop his entire body weight into you while keeping himself as close as possible.

Throwing out the condom, he got up despite his exhaustion to make sure to clean you up a bit, dragging your tired body to pee while he made sure bed was warm and ready for your return.

You emerged back with a lazy smile on your face, almost tackling him when you ran back to bed and let him envelop you in his arms.

More sweet words were exchanged (along with some brave touches in between kisses) as you fell asleep in each other's arms again. When you awoke again, it was with smiles glued to your faces, not leaving you even as you went out to fix yourselves up a quick and domestic breakfast.

He held your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck as you insisted on cooking, just as he'd pictured uncountable times before. You were so into your own world that you did not hear the entrance of Wonwoo's roommate.

"Huh," you suddenly heard from behind you, causing the two of you to jump.

"So you're the girl taking up all of Wonwoo's attention," Mingyu grinned teasingly, hands on his hips in an accusatory manner.

And that was only the beginning of your welcome into Wonwoo's world.

to read short 2.2k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, pda, mingyu third-wheeling, dry humping, an appearance from a few other members, etc.

wc: 531 (teaser); 2.2k (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"It's been three weeks and I'm still not used to being your third wheel. Don't feel particularly happy about it either," Mingyu whined from his lonesome couch whilst staring at the two of you cuddled up in another.

Ever since you began staying with Wonwoo, your affection had been through the roof. Neither of you were too big on PDA, but you didn't really mind it while indoors — especially since that was the only environment in which you could truly be together freely.

It was unfortunate for Mingyu, however, that indoors usually involved his presence.

Mingyu had welcomed you with open arms, insisting that he was more than happy to share the apartment with Wonwoo's girl, as he called you. But within only a few weeks, his demeanor changed slightly. He began to pout and whine any time you'd lounge around together, claiming he was now a third wheel in his own home and complaining about feeling single.

There had also been a few less PG instances the had a tendency to complain about.

It had only happened a few times, but that didn't make it any less mortifying when it did happen.

Today, fortunately, was one of the tamer instances in which you'd simply opted for a night in. Surprisingly to you, the two boys you'd been roomming with were both more homebodies than they seemed. Well, you'd expected it from Wonwoo, but Mingyu had been a surprise.

As per usual, you were cuddled up with Wonwoo as you watched a movie. Meanwhile, your friend Mingyu sat at a slight distance away on his own couch, continuing to stare with a pout.

This only went long enough until your boyfriend decided to whine back at his roommate.

"Gyu, just go on that blind date Kwannie suggested. Stop acting like we killed your dog," he grumbled.

You only giggled along as you listened.

"I like the single life! It's just that I wasn't expecting to have the human manifestation of a romance novel shoving their perfect relationship in my face at all times," he went on to complain.

"Dude, what do you want from me?", Wonwoo complained, annoyed.

The large man simply sighed petulantly before getting up, shooting you yet another annoyed look.

"I'll just go out again, I guess. Please don't do anything disgusting in my absence," he called as he made his way to leave, taking a plate of snacks away from you and Wonwoo in the process despite your lighthearted complaints.

With a few other scoldings from him, he made his way out, likely to go hang out with some of the many friends the man had to choose from. Simultaneously, Wonwoo took advantage of the newfound privacy to somehow cuddle up to you even closer, burying his face in your neck to breathe you in.

"Well, that was fun," you joked.

"Mhm," was all Wonwoo responded, his attention now laying completely on the skin of your neck as he began nosing at it, pressing the occasional kiss.

"I think it's better when he's gone, don't you think?", he mumbled between kisses, hands beginning to roam your torso.

"He's fun," you defended half-heartedly, easily giving in to him.

...

find the continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenario

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kamaluhkhan · 1 year ago

Text

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window.

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer.

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.”

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous.

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?”

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in.

“what? n-no!”

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you.

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp.

it just didn't seem fair.

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods.

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest.

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest.

every demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself.

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?”

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching.

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.”

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.”

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze.

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too.

“she deserved more.”

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there.

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do.

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise.

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.”

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm.

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day.

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.”

luke bristled at your nickname for him.

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go.

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in.

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly.

the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again.

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down.

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse.

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled.

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning.

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone?

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one.

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward."

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you.

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp.

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready.

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him.

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through.

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him.

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power.

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood.

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased.

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess.

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson.

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?”

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken.

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.”

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer.

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too.

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time.

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more.

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips.

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die.

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy.

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away.

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze.

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse.

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.”

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality.

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie.

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat.

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him.

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for.

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did.

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it.

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair.

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates.

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes.

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.”

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes.

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that.

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you.

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?”

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush.

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….”

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right.

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for.

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached.

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?”

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?”

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him.

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.”

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said.

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow.

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air.

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch.

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion.

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp.

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him.

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment.

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door.

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire.

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god.

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy.

everything was falling into place.

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you.

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles.

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist.

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him.

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey.

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy.

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?”

“they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true.

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him.

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it.

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down.

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet.

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog.

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more.

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously.

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated.

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind.

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated.

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well.

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.”

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe!

would you hate him, if you knew?

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage.

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?”

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns.

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.”

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment.

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips.

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe.

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his.

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath.

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time.

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted.

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor.

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother.

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock.

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.”

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being.

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.”

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone. we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance.

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor.

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape.

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice.

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head.

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life.

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV!#ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader....#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify

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bexreadstoomuch · 2 years ago

Text

Magic Man - Chapter 17

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, reader has weight/image issues light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use/language, EddiemunsonxFemReaderHenderson

Masterlist

Part 17/? [wc 3.7k] a/n - IM BACK -please please like, share and comment, your comments make me so happy and encourage me to write more! thank you <3

Extra special thanks to @whoahoney and @corrodedcoffincumslutfor your helping me with this chapter!

Here is the song for the chapter - I love this song and thought it would be great for our pair to perform.

youtube

17 - Close Your Eyes Forever

You only had three things to do over the next few days.

Three.

Call you mom. You needed the truth, you needed to find out if it's true that she was keeping messages from you, and why.

Talk to Jack. What did she know? What was she keeping from you?

Perform your duet with Eddie. You didn't know which of these things scared you the most.

After spending the afternoon with Eddie after your confrontation with Kelly, you learned more about what happened after you left Hawkins. He tried so hard to graduate, took him 2 attempts but finally did it in 86. You were more shocked to find out it was actually Steve who helped him graduate in the end. Dustin would go on and on at Eddie that Steve was a good guy. Obviously Eddie didn't believe him, but after a few trips to Family Video with Dustin, and Steve driving Dustin to The Hideout to go watch Eddie play, Eddie gave in and in his own words “I guess I couldn't accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude”

You told him all about college, how you met Lula and Jack and how nervous you were about auditioning for them. He would sit there and listen to everything you said, never interrupting you. He would be resting his hand on your knee, or brushing a small piece of your hair behind your ear that had fallen. Everything felt so right, but you couldn’t shake the thought swimming around your head. The same things over and over again, mainly ‘why me?’

The show that evening couldn't have gone better. Opening up more to Eddie definitely helped but you just couldn't shift that feeling of betrayal from your mom.

You decided you were going to call her that night after the show. Eddie wanted to be with you when you did, but you told him it would be ok, but you would say hi to Dustin for him.

Staying in New York for a few days had its benefits. No more basic motels, no staying in the buses. The label had secured you a hotel a short drive away from the venue, which meant private cars to and from the venue, trying to avoid the crowds of fans you had seen lining up outside the venue early that afternoon, vying for the best spot.

After saying your goodbyes to everyone for the night you made your way into your hotel room. It wasn’t a large room, a twin bed situated in the middle with crisp white linens, a little folded towel at the end of the bed, which you think was meant to look like a Swan but a rather sad looking swan, its head had fallen down.

Checking the time before you dialled, not wanting to risk it being too late, you picked up the phone on the bedside table, laying back on the bed dialling your old home number.

“Good Evening Henderson residence” Dustin’s voice filtered through the receiver.

“Hey butthead!”

“Sis! Hey! Thought you were forgetting about me! Not heard from you since you got back after Christmas! Where are you? Why haven’t you called sooner? oh oh did you talk to Eddie?” Dustin blurted out.

“Woah, woah big guy, one question at a time! Look I called as I need to speak to mom about something, but hey you may know this too”

“This about Eddie?” Dustin's voice was quiet

“Yeah, look, remember you said he would ask you about me? Do you know anything about phone calls? Messages?” You kept your voice as level as you could not wanting to get angry at your little brother.

“Y/n/n, I think you need to talk to mom about this, I don’t know much but, yeah I believe he may have tried a few times” Dustin’s voice grew quieter as though he had his hand covering the bottom half of the phone.

Letting out a sigh through your nose, you could feel the betrayal wash over you. All this time wasted hating someone who didn’t deserve to be hated.

“Y/n? Are you still there?” Dustin's voice seems a million miles away, you were too focused on trying to control your anger.

Snapping back suddenly, blinking hard you suddenly realised you couldn’t do this right now, least of all over the phone.

“Hey, yeah yeah I’m still here, look I’m sorry I’m gonna have to go, it’s late and we got a big show tomorrow, look about you coming to see us, I’ll see what I can do yeah?” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough, you needed to get off the phone.

“Y/n/n, you sure you're ok? I can go get mom?”

Before you could let him answer his own question you shouted back.

“No! No, it’s ok, I’m ok, no, look Dusty I gotta go, I’m sorry, I love you little brother”

“I love you too y/n/n, say hi to Eddie for me?” You could tell in his tone he was worried, you hated to make him feel that way, but you couldn’t think of anything other than ending the call quickly.

“I will, bye Dusty” at that you hung up the phone with a bit more force than necessary, making the whole bedside table rattle.

Rolling over on the mattress you bury your head I’m into the plush pillow screaming your frustration out.

You needed to speak to your mom, you knew you did but not over the phone. She needed to see how hurt you were, needed to see what pain she put you through denying you the truth.

Pacing up and down your room you find yourself grabbing onto your blanket you brought in from the van and storming down the corridor, knocking furiously into the high gloss white door in front of you.

A flurry of messy curls came into view from the crack of the open door.

Eddie's face suddenly changed from joy to concern as he saw your tear stained face before him.

“Sweetheart, hey c’mere” his arms are suddenly pulling you into his embrace, ringed hand cradled the back of your head, your cheek pressed into his bare chest. You suddenly feel safe and warm. Your arms automatically wrap around his back, palms flat against his back holding him tight.

Your both stood in the doorway to his hotel room, saying nothing, just holding each other. Nothing needed to be said at that moment. He knew what you needed, knew you needed to be held, to feel cared for.

He didn't want to disturb you, move you from your position pressed against him, but he could hear you mumbling something into his chest.

“I couldn't do it, I ...I tried but I couldn't” your words came out in muffled sobs, your arms gripping to him tighter and tighter not wanting to leave his safe warm clutches.

Moving you into the room Eddies leads you over towards the bed in the centre of the room, sitting you down on the edge. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he looks up at you, brings a hand to rest on your face, his thumb lazily stroking your cheek brushing away the slow fall of your tears. “Did you speak to your mom? Is that why you're upset?” His voice was quiet as though he didn't want to spook you.

Stuttering you replied “I couldn't do it, I, I tried, Dustin, He, he said, he said, mom might know something, but I would have to speak with her, but, but, I, I couldn't do it. I was too scared to over the phone”

More sobs retched from your chest, you felt so small, pathetic. Any self worth you had disappeared. You couldn't comprehend that someone who supposedly loved you would keep happiness away from you.

All you wanted was the truth but you couldn't do it. You couldn't ask.

“Its ok sweetheart, shush, it's going to be ok, I'm here, i'm right here. I promise you i'm not going anywhere ok?” Eddie had risen from in front of you coming to sit next to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders pulling you impossibly tight to him.

“Do you want to stay here tonight? I don't want you to be alone.” Eddies question was uncertain. He didn't want to cross over a line with you, only wanted to protect you. Show you how much you meant to him without pushing you too far when you were this fragile.

He hated seeing you like this. Wanted to protect you from everything and anyone who wanted to hurt you.

You were his. You were always his to him. He just hoped he would be yours too.

Nodding, you allowed him to menover you up onto the bed more, pulling your blanket over you and crawling into the space behind you, pulling your back to his chest. Resting his chin on your shoulder he would whisper sweet quiet affirmations into the shell of your ear, stroking your hip with his hand that was resting there.

Your breathing has started to calm, and you could feel sleep take over you. Melting into the plush white pillow beneath you, you didn't hear his last words to you before you drifted off into a deep sleep.

“I’ll always protect you, my love. Your mine to protect. I adore you”

* * * * * * * * * * *

You woke up to the sound of running water and soft singing drifting through the room. Feeling suddenly disoriented you had to take a moment to take in your surroundings.

A heavy weight surrounds you, which you discover is a huge white duvet with your blanket on top. The room looked the same as your hotel room, but set up in the opposite direction.

Looking around you see a guitar case resting against a chair in the corner of the room but a large window looking out onto the city.

It suddenly dawned on you, you were in Eddie's hotel room. Which would mean that it was Eddie in the shower. It was him singing, this thought made you smile and giggle to yourself throwing yourself back down into the plush bedding.

The bathroom door opens, with a flurry of steam, Eddies emerges, long wet hair dripping past his shoulders, white fluffy towel hanging low on his hips.

“Hey there sleepy head, how are you feeling today?” he asks as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you, leaning in to kiss your forehead, hair dripping into your face.

“EDDIE! STOP! You're dripping water on me!” You laugh trying to pull the duvet above your head to hide.

Climbing up more onto the bed Eddie starts pulling the covers down and brings you in for a big hug ignoring your shrieks of laughter.

“OK, Ok you win big boy!”

“Big boy?” Eddie pulls away from you a little to look at you laughing at your comment and smirk pulling across his lips.

“Yes Eds, and yeah I'm ok, thank you for looking after me last night. I felt so lost and perfetic I didn't want to be alone” shifting into a sitting position leaning against the headboard, you lift your knees up under your chin.

“I’ll always be here for you sweetheart” Eddie shifts his position to come sit next to you, adjusting the towel still wrapped around his waist.

Turning your head you look into Eddie's eyes, words were not needed right now, just a look spoke a thousand words.

Tonight was the night of the duet and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You'd spent the rest of the morning with Eddie in his hotel room, going over some notes you'd made about your performance and what needed work.

Rehearsals that afternoon were no better. You'd miss notes on the piano, your mic didn't work, you were starting to spiral and Eddie noticed.

“Sweetheart, look at me” Eddie came to sit next to you on the piano stool, reaching over and taking your hands into his. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise you” His thumb stocking across your knuckles to calm you.

The feeling in your gut isn't helping matters, but you looked up at him and nodded in agreement, giving him a small smile in return. The plan was for Paradox to perform as usual, introduce the boys and at the end of their set Eddie would talk to the crowd as the stage was reset for the duet. Watching Eddie interacting with the crowds always gave you joy. This is where he belonged, up on stage, entertaining hundreds if not thousands of people. You couldn't help but not be drawn to him.

This seemed to be the same for a small group of girls front and centre of the stage. Trying their best to grab his attention. Leaning so far forward across the barrier that and further they would topple over it. Tops incredibly low they left little to the imagination. And slim, proportions all in the right places, curves, where curves should be. You must have been staring hard as you jumped when you felt a small hand on your shoulder.

“You ok hun?” Lula followed your eye-line and let out an annoyed sigh at the sight of the girls, arms now reaching over trying to grab at any part of Eddie that they could.

“Don't worry about those girls y/n, He's only got eyes for you, that's obvious, hey I nearly had to beat down on a girl the other day for trying to touch Gare” This you could easily believe.

Jack had still been avoiding you since the blow up at rehearsals the other day, it wouldn't be a lie to say that you were too. Honestly you were lost at what to say to her. Yes you wanted to know the truth but never found the right time to do so, as everytime you would approach her she would run off in the opposite direction, or lock himself away in her hotel room. She was even avoiding Lula.

Looking across the stage from where you were standing in the wings, you saw Jack, guitar strap already around her shoulder, tuning up. You tried to catch her eye but got nothing. After the show you thought, after the show i will go and talk to her, just you and her. “So it looks like everything is ready behind me, so we have a little surprise for you all. You are the first to hear this!” Eddie's voice was booming over the speakers, it pulled you out of your daydream and your eyes met as he beconded you onto the stage, to stand next to him. “You all no doubt sawe the news in the papers last week that the girls of Paradox have gladly agreed to be a part of the family with us, so to celebrate this we decided to do a special performance for you together!” Eddie's arm was now tight around your waist keeping you close, which you noticed got the attention of the girls at the front of the audience. He could feel you tense up next to him and gave your sides a little squeeze.

You had decided to change from your previous outfit into something different for your duet. As you were mainly hiding behind a piano you thought you could try something a little different. Opting for your doc martens, a long black skirt, with a double buckle belt, and an old Sabbath tee you had, which Lula had “Altered” for you. By this she had cut a large v into the front, which in her words “accentuated the assets” and would “drive eddie crazy”

The latter seemed to be true, as he seemed to now not be able to take his eyes off your chest. Leaning in towards you away from his mic, he whispers “you look absolutely amazing sweetheart”

All of a sudden a loud giggle erupted from you and echoed around the venue.

The girls up front had faces of thunder but there were a few audible “awws”. “Right guys we hope you love this as much as we do! You ready Y/n, Eddie?” Gareth's voice cut through the noise of the audience, bringing you back.

Taking your seat behind the piano, you adjusted your mic. Taking a deep breath in you took a deep breath and gave the nod to the light tech, letting him know you were ready for the spotlights.

The performance couldn't have gone any better. Jack's acoustic intro, the lights, the audience's eruption to the recognition of the song gave you that confidence boost you needed most. Leaning into your mic you began to sing, you felt the world around you melt away and it felt like it was only you and Eddie on the stage. Singing to each other. No one else was there. No one could ruin this moment for you. All thoughts of your phone call home yesterday gone, the girls trying to get Eddie's attention gone, it was just you and him. Your confidence sawed the more into the song you got. Pushing your vocals to places you'd never gone to before. Eddie could see a change in you and couldn't stop beaming at you. He couldn't have done this with anyone else.

The lyrics spoke to you both, calling out to each other asking for answers, you ask if things will stay the same if you close your eyes forever. Will what you have with Eddie change now that you have expressed how you feel towards each other. The pain of love you were scared of. You didn't want to be hurt by him again. It also felt like a warning to him too, which you could see he fully understood.

“If I close my eyes forever

Will it all remain unchanged?

If I close my eyes forever

Will it all remain the same?” Eddie's voice ripped through you as he belted out his interpretation of Ozzy's lyrics. Your heart souring as you watched him perform, not once taking his eyes off you. You had only then noticed he didn't have his guitar with him. Frowning at him as it was getting close to his solo he gave you a wink and his toothy grin as he turned to the side of the stage arm out as a tech passed him his “sweetheart” a beautiful red and black coloured B.C Rich Warlock. Throwing the strap over his head he suddenly jumps on top of the grand piano you're playing, falling to his knees in front of you. Letting out a gasp of both astonishment and shock you couldn't keep your eyes off him. His knees parted so the body of his guitar was between his legs, his eyes squeezed shut playing his heart out. You watch as the muscles in his arms flex under his pale tattooed skin. Sweat beading under his bangs from being under the stage lights. His hips would lift slightly as he got more and more into the solo.

Having him this close to you, playing like this, basically thrusting in your face, had you flustered, nearly missing notes. Oh and he could tell he was having an effect on you.

This was his plan all along.

This wasn't a part of the rehearsal. No one knew he was going to do this. His plan worked too, he got the reaction he wanted from you.

“I know I've been so hard on you

I know I've told you lies

If I could have just one more wish

I'd wipe the cobwebs from my eyes”

You nearly missed your lyrics from staring at Eddie who was still atop the piano, playing a longer than usual reverb in your direction, locking his dark brown eyes with yours, the holes in his jeans staringin under the pressure of him being on his knees.

Nearing the end of the song he slides off the piano to the side, taking his guitar off carefully leaning it against the piano, to come and sit next to you on the stool to close off the song singing together.

Your head comes to lean on his shoulder, his arm coming to wrap around your waist, holding onto you tight, leaning into your mic to sing the last bars - “Close your eyes, Close your eyes. You gotta close your eyes for me”

The audience went crazy. Whoops, whistles, and hollering could be heard bouncing off the walls. You couldn't believe what just happened. You did it! But you didn't hear anything. Your full focus was on him. You couldn't take your eyes off him. His stupid grin looking back at you.

You launch towards him, throwing your arms tightly around his neck, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Hey babe, are you ok?” Eddie tried to pull you back to look at your face, his voice full of worry.

“Oh my god Eddie we did it! I'm honestly ok! This was the most insane thing! Thank you! Thank you so much” His use of the new pet name you didn't miss. It made the butterflies in your stomach stir violently, but gently, softy.

“Come with me” he grabs you by your hands, lifting you from the piano to the front of the stage where the rest of the band meet you.

Lula had jumped onto Gareth's back, holding onto him like a spider monkey, leaning forwards leaving big kisses on his cheeks for the world to see.

Flashes of light were suddenly blinding you from hundreds of press cameras, vying for the best photography. Eddie still had a tight grip of your hand, not wanting to lose you in the madness.

“Y/n, I couldn't have done this with anyone else. Thank you.” Eddies suddenly leans over and kisses you on the cheek, flash bulbs erupted again. But you didn't care. Not at that moment. You didn't know what would happen next but right now, you were on cloud 9.

taglist -

@corrodedcoffincumslut @bohemianrhapsody86 @themrsmunson @jennk182 @whoahoney @eddiemunsonsgf2 @strangerthingsstories5255 @emsgoodthinkin @emotionaldreamer @making-the-most-0f-it

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oliverreedmasterass · 1 year ago

Text

Synopsis: A young Greta Van Fleet find hope in a local battle of the bands competition to finally catch their big break.

Words: 1.3k

Notes: Last part here we go!! Thank you @infinisonicosm for the fic idea!

________________________________

Final Verdict

The next 15 minutes were a blur. Between crying parents, friends smothering them in hugs, and even a few people asking for their autographs, Sam felt like his head was spinning the entire time. He was still riding the high from being out on the stage but, at the same time, he knew the adrenaline couldn’t last much longer. The competition was extending into the later hours of the day, and Sam couldn’t even fathom that he had to be in his homeroom the next morning. He started to dread the thought of returning back to that life, but before he got lost in that spiral, Jake had him by the arm and was dragging him onto the stage to hear the winner.

Sam had missed it since he was too busy being mobbed by friends, but Danny had caught him up to speed that, by some miracle, the Fellowship guitarist felt compelled to apologize to Jake after the set. Jake had threatened to break his nose again for even thinking about talking to him, but luckily Josh was with him, and accepted his apology on Jake’s behalf. Jake still obviously wasn’t happy about everything that had gone down between the two bands, but at least when they were standing next to each other on stage in front of the still large crowd, they weren’t at each other’s throats.

Stationed in between Josh and Danny, Sam couldn’t help but rock back and forth on his feet while the host went through his introduction, gushing about how Frankenmuth had never seen such an impressive lineup of bands before in the 23 year history of the competition. Sam wanted him to get on with announcing the winner before he lost his mind.

“Let’s give a round of applause for these two groundbreaking bands!” The host gave a cheesy smile out at the crowd. Sam let the cheers wash over him once again and felt a little less on edge. He looked around at his bandmates and could tell that they all felt equally as nervous as him. Danny wouldn’t even raise his eyes from the stage.

“The judges were faced with a near-impossible task naming a winner, but there was one band that came out on top.” Josh slipped his hand into Sam and Jake’s and gave them a tight squeeze. Sam followed suit and laced his fingers with Danny. “The winner of the AutoFest Battle of the Bands competition gets a cash prize of $10,000 and an opportunity to record a song to play on one of Michigan’s top rock radio stations, WLAV-FM. That’s a pretty sweet deal, right?”

“I’d say so,” Sam could hear Jake murmur to himself.

“After two days of some of the best live music I’m sure we’ve all heard in a while, let’s get this crowning ceremony going.”

“Yeah, let’s!” Someone from the crowd shouted. Sam was tempted to say it himself, but he was glad someone else stepped in for him. The host chuckled at the impatient audience member and retrieved an envelope from his coat pocket.

“The winner of the 2017 Battle of the Bands Competition is…”

Josh and Danny were squeezing Sam’s hands so hard, he thought they were going to pop off. His eyes were shut, partially from the pain his bandmates were inflicting on him, but also because he couldn’t get himself to look at the eager crowd anymore. It was making him too nervous. He had felt the weight of the competition all weekend long but, being at the final step, Sam was feeling overwhelmed. There was so much on the line, and to get as far as they had, Sam couldn’t imagine how much of a letdown it would be if they placed second. He was pretty sure he had overheard one of the stagehands mention that the second place band got $1,000 and a photo in the newspaper. That was hardly enough to earn them national attention.

Sam craved with all of his being to hear the host read aloud their name. They had worked their asses off for the competition, and played their hearts out on stage. Sam felt like every member of Greta Van Fleet was exceptional in their own unique way, bringing an impressive depth to the group. He wanted to know that people saw what he saw, and believed in what he believed. Greta Van Fleet deserved to make it to the next stage as a successful band, and to gain popularity. Sam had never felt so strongly about something that concerned his future: he wanted to play with his brothers. It only made sense.

He opened an eye for a brief moment to check on the host since he was taking a while to read the name, and saw that his mouth was open, about ready to speak. Sam’s heart thundered in his chest.

“Greta Van Fleet!” the host shouted out, pointing at Sam and his brothers. Sam immediately grabbed at his head in shock, letting the relief wash over him. Danny’s first reaction was to wrap Sam in a tight hug, which he really appreciated. Next to him, Josh was jumping around and whooping while pumping his fist in the air. It was hard to see through Danny’s hug, but he caught Jake dropping to his knees and covering his face, obviously overcome with emotion. Soon the twins joined Sam and Danny in their hug, and they all started to jump with each other while shouting in glee. The host joined their side to break them apart and shook all of their hands.

To Sam’s surprise, Jake then made his way across the stage to the members of Fellowship and offered his hand out to the guitarist. Even though the guy looked beyond crushed, he gave Jake’s hand a shake which ended in a brief bro-hug. Sam, Danny, and Josh followed suit and congratulated all the members of Fellowship, wishing them “better luck next time.” After that, they met the host back at center stage, where he was waiting for them with a massive check. Josh immediately took it and gleefully whacked Jake in the face with it.

“How are you feeling, guys?” The host tried to ignore Josh’s antics as he held the microphone out to Sam. Sam leaned forward and spoke,

“Like we’re on cloud 9, sir.”

The crowd matched that with a loud applause. The host now had the microphone by Jake.

“Of the songs you played on your groundbreaking setlists, which one do you think you’re gonna take with you to the studio to record?”

“It’s hard to say,” Jake thought aloud. “It’s important that we all put our heads together to choose one that we enjoy and feel represents Greta Van Fleet. But it’s gotta have a guitar solo in it.”

“Well, I can’t congratulate you enough,” the host chuckled. “You’ve got an exciting sound, and I think we can all agree we’re looking forward to seeing where you go next.”

“You and me both!” Josh grabbed the microphone to add. Sam let out a hearty laugh and shook his head at his brother. The host regained his composure and then brought the microphone back to his mouth.

“Thank you all for attending, and get home safely!”

Sam made his way to the edge of the stage to wave to the crowd and blow some kisses to his family. He had done it. They all had done it. As much as he wanted to relish in the moment and take it all in, he could feel a drive surging through him.

It was time for Greta Van Fleet to move on to the next chapter.

#gvf #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fic #battle of the bands #jake gvf #josh gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf

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postracehair · 2 months ago

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trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #mv33 x reader #f1 fanfic #my writing #mv33 #fic: trust me

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lobster-tales · 2 years ago

Text

Beat the Daylight

Sequel to Face the Noise, an Arcane Rock Band AU

Rating: M

Chapter 20: The Jam Sesh

Summary: All is well. 3 months later || Springtime

Powder had missed her bed. Sure, the one at the hotel had been comfortable, with its satin pillows and heavy comforter. But there was nothing like her bed, the mish mash of blankets from her childhood that were layered on top of each other in artful chaos, arranged to allow the best combination of weight and airflow.

And particularly this morning, with Lux sleeping beside her, she didn’t want to leave.

She heard heavy footsteps in the hallway, the scent of coffee a few minutes later. Careful not to disturb Lux, Powder slipped out of the sheets and tugged a Hextech hoodie over her shoulders. She’d been surprised at how comfortable it was, way more than any of Shimmer’s merch–no wonder Vi and Mel wore theirs all the time.

Vi was pouring a cup when she walked in. “Morning.” Even after a few months, her eyes still had that shine whenever she saw Powder, that awed relief. Powder pretended not to like it. Vi asked, “Lux here? What time did she get in last night?”

“Late.” Powder pulled out her favorite mug and her second favorite for Lux.

“She likes one splash of vanilla creamer and a splash of hazelnut,” Vi advised. “I picked up both last night. She also likes a little sprinkle of cinnamon on top but not too much because it’ll sink to the bottom.”

Still so weird. Powder wondered if she would ever get past it. “Thanks.”

“What are you two doing today?”

“I’m gonna show her the town,” Powder said, sipping from her own coffee. “We’ll pick up Ekko once he’s done with his meeting. You want to come with us?”

“Nah, I got work.” Vi stretched her fingers skyward. “New hire’s settling in, though. He’s been closing the last couple nights on his own.”

“Good. Give you more time to train for your tournaments.” Powder smirked at her. “Cause you’re gonna need it.”

“Oh, I need it, huh?” Vi scoffed playfully, rising from the table. “Come say that to my face, I’ll whoop you right here and now.”

“No thanks,” Powder said, taking Lux’s cup. “I’m not paying your hospital bill.”

Vi shook her head, grinning. “See you tonight, Pow-pow.”

“Later.” When Powder returned to her bedroom, Lux was just stirring. “Good morning, Starlight,” Powder purred. “Want some coffee?”

Lux blinked at her, and gasped. “Yes!” She accepted the cup, murmuring, “Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite person ever?”

“Mmm I wouldn’t mind hearing it a little more,” she said, kissing the tip of Lux’s nose.

They took their time getting ready for the day. Of course, Powder wasn’t very helpful, since every time Lux put a piece of clothing on, Powder eventually worked it back off of her again, distracting her with kisses.

“Powder,” Lux giggled. “Come on, I have to do something with my day.”

“I’m something.” And she bit her neck.

They spent a few hours tangled in each other’s arms, enjoying each other in lazy bliss, until Lux glanced at her phone and gasped. “Oh, we gotta go! Ekko finished his meeting a while ago.”

As they arrived at Ekko’s place, he bounded up to the car. “Yo, Crownguard!” Ekko reached in through the window to clasp Lux’s hand and draw her in for a half hug. “What is up, girl, how you been!”

“Good,” Lux said with a grin.

Powder cut in. “You better watch those hands, Boy Savior.”

“Only if you can catch them.” He slid into the back, propping his forearms on the back of their seats. “What’s our first stop?”

“The school,” Lux sighed. “Have to convince my parents this was a productive trip.”

They cruised through campus: the weekend left the area empty, with only a few students trailing through. Powder had familiarized herself with the buildings, and pointed them out as they went. “There’s the chemistry building, environmental science. That’s where Viktor and Jayce’s lab used to be when they were grad students.”

Lux asked, “Which one are you going to be in?”

“All of them,” Powder huffed. “The boys said I can’t start my Hextech internship until I get my basics out of the way.”

Ekko reassured her, “You’ll knock it out in no time. As long as you don’t get distracted by Starlight over here,” and he pinched Lux’s shoulder.

“Hey, what’d I say about hands, bitch?” Powder reached back to swat at him.

They stopped at the top of the parking garage, leaning over the concrete wall to survey the city. The trees were full and lush, cars passing by lazily in the mid-spring day. Ekko and Powder switched off their tour notes, pointing out different landmarks.

“There’s the square,” Powder said. “You can’t really see the pub from here, but you can see the top of the courthouse.”

“And that office building?” said Ekko. “When that place was still being built, we snuck in one night and tried cigarettes for the first time.”

“Oh yeah,” Powder laughed. “Vander was pissed. Vi was grounded for two weeks.”

Lux just beamed at them both, enjoying the stories, only interrupting occasionally to ask questions.

The pub was the next stop. The lunch rush had just ended, giving Vi and Vander a long enough break to greet Lux. Vander in particular was excited to meet her, curious about her style of playing guitar. Lux was nervous at first, but settled into one of her rambles, and Powder gave Vi a knowing look as they all listened.

Eventually Vi and Vander had to get back to work, at which point, Powder, Ekko, and Lux went to Shepherd’s Bridge. After handing Lux some spray paint, they cheered her on while she left her own tag, a bright blue star symbol sandwiched between Caitlyn’s cupcake and a fresh pink “Jinx”.

The trio picked up a few supplies for the evening, stocking up on sodas and chips. Powder dropped off Ekko at his car so he could go pick up Zeri, leaving her and Lux to their own devices for the afternoon.

They lay entwined on the living room couch, half-paying attention to the horror movie. Lux ran her fingers through Powder’s hair, gently massaging her scalp.

“Do you think they’d like me?” Powder asked. “Your parents. And Garen.”

“Maybe. I mean, you are rich and famous now.”

“Jinx is famous,” Powder clarified. “Powder’s just rich.” Because she was over eighteen, all of the money Silco set aside for her had become hers, even after his arrest. The problem was she didn’t know what to do with it, other than pay for school. Now, she had everything she wanted.

Lux smiled to herself. “Well, Jinx is the one in all those scandalous pictures of us, so they’ll probably prefer Powder.”

“Scandalous, huh?” Powder buried her nose in Lux’s ribs.

“They’re going to be weird,” Lux said honestly. “They always have been. Hell, I could be dating Caitlyn and they’d still complain because the Kirammans are new money. You can’t worry about what they think. Just worry about what I think.”

Powder propped her chin on her stomach, gazing adoringly up at her. “And what do you think?”

“I think…” Lux said, tapping her nose with a finger. “That you’re adorable.”

Powder scrunched up her nose, pretending she was offended. “I’m not adorable. I’m a menace.” She gently bit Lux’s skin.

“Fine. You’re an adorable menace.”

The doorknob jingled, and Caitlyn followed the sound, arms overflowing with paperwork. “Hi Lux!” she said with a smile. “How was your trip here?”

“Good.”

Powder nodded towards the papers. “How’s hunting?”

“Ugh.” Caitlyn dropped everything on the already cluttered kitchen table. “I’d rather hunt a hawk in the rain. But, we’re making progress. There’s a lot of new housing between here and Piltover. Lux, I forgot to ask, do you have any home preferences?”

“Nope!” Lux said brightly. “Just my own room and a roof.”

“That’s exactly what Vi and Ekko said.”

Powder gave Lux the side eye. “You know, you could always take Vi’s room and live here with meeee.”

“My parents barely agreed to let me live with Caitlyn,” said Lux. “That being said, I might have some early classes, so it would make more sense for me to spend a few nights a week over here.”

“Or every night.”

“Powder,” Lux chuckled. “I can’t.”

Powder huffed, pretending to be annoyed. “You’d really rather live with my sister and my ex-boyfriend?”

Caitlyn chimed in, “It was that or fourth wheel with Jayce, Mel, and Viktor.” The kettle whined and she entered a few seconds later with a steaming cup of tea in hand. “Speaking of which, Jayce said they’re on their way. Viktor wanted plenty of time to set up his equipment.”

“Perfect.” Powder stretched, rising from the couch and offering her hand to Lux. “I should also start getting set up. Wanna help me?”

“Sure!” As they entered the garage, Lux admired the string lights weaving back and forth over the ceiling, the variety of band posters on the walls. “Not sure how helpful I’ll be, though.”

“Well, you have the most important job.” Powder indicated the brown couch against the wall. “I need you to sit there, and look pretty.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Viktor and Jayce brought Sky with them, as she was visiting from Noxus. While they set up, she regaled them with stories of her new job and coworkers, her love life and friendships. Lux asked constant questions, fascinated. The two had only met over Caitlyn’s video calls, and were fast friends.

Just as dusk approached, Ekko and Zeri arrived with Vi. Ekko prepped his keyboard presets while Vi and Lux tuned their guitars, Zeri warming up her vocals. Caitlyn and Sky were more than happy to plant themselves on the couch, splitting a bottle of rosé.

Vi asked Jayce, “Who’s drumming first?” but Powder answered for her, plopping down into the drumset chair and twirling her sticks.

“You ready to see a real drummer, Talis?” Powder sneered playfully.

He smiled, joining Caitlyn and Sky on the couch, inviting Viktor into his lap. “Took you long enough.”

Ekko played a single chord, considering his bandmates. “Alright. What song are we-”

Zeri interrupted him by seizing the mic and singing,

Shot through the heart And you're to blame

They all joined in.

Darlin', you give love a bad name

Vi, Powder, Lux, and Ekko launched into the instrumental, the noise rattling the walls of the garage. Zeri nodded her head to the beat, her pigtails bouncing with the movement.

An angel's smile is what you sell You promise me Heaven, then put me through hell Chains of love got a hold on me When passion's a prison, you can't break free

Oh, you're a loaded gun, yeah Oh, there's nowhere to run No one can save me The damage is done

The couch crowd sang along to the chorus,

Shot through the heart And you're to blame You give love a bad name (bad name) I play my part and you play your game You give love a bad name (bad name) Hey, you give love, a bad name

For the final chorus, the instruments fell away, leaving the band to sing acapella,

Shot through the heart And you're to blame

Zeri aimed the mic at the couch, and the small audience sang the last,

You give love a bad name

The friends whooped and cheered. Powder whispered to the other band members and they all grinned. She clicked her sticks together, “1, 2, 3, 4!” and they began an upbeat song. There was no part on the keys, so Ekko grabbed his mic and sang with Zeri.

All the small things True care, truth brings I'll take one lift Your ride, best trip

They harmonized, Zeri singing the higher part as Ekko took the lead,

Always, I know You'll be at my show Watching, waiting Commiserating

Say it ain't so, I will not go Turn the lights off, carry me home

Zeri pulled Ekko away from the microphone, dancing together in the center of the room while the rest of the band sang,

Na-na, na-na, na-na, na-na, na, na Na-na, na-na, na-na, na-na, na, na

As the song ended, Mel entered from the garage’s side door, grinning. “I can hear you down the street,” she chuckled. “Excuse my tardiness: meeting ran late.”

“You’re excused,” Zeri and Powder said at the same time.

Mel considered the couch. “And this must be the lovely Sky I’ve heard so much about.”

Sky’s eyes widened at the sight of her. “H-hi,” she stammered, rising. “Senator Medarda, it’s so nice to meet you.”

She took her hands and said warmly, “Call me Mel. I’ve heard you’ve been working in Noxus. Quite the culture shock?”

Sky smiled shyly. “Yeah, they’re a little intense over there.”

“Some things never change,” Mel said wistfully. “Here, I have something for you in the car: Caitlyn mentioned you like rosé so I brought my top six brands for you to sample. Jayce, darling, can you help me bring them in?”

Sky just stared after them, jaw dropped. “Is she-”

“Always like that?” Caitlyn asked wryly.

“Always,” Viktor confirmed, resting an arm around Sky’s shoulders.

When Jayce returned, Vi nodded towards Powder. “Alright, Pow-Pow, it’s Jayce’s turn.”

“No!” She crushed the sticks to her chest, but her possession was more playful than sincere.

Ekko smirked and said, “You’re gonna make her sing this next one alone?” And he played the opening synth riff.

Powder practically threw the sticks at Jayce, taking the microphone in hand as he scrambled to get behind the drumset before the beat dropped.

The sisters sang the first verse together.

Here we stand Worlds apart, hearts broken in two, two, two Sleepless nights Losing ground, I'm reaching for you, you, you

They harmonized together on the pre-chorus.

Feeling that it's gone Can't change your mind If we can't go on To survive the tide Love divides

On the chorus, Ekko and Lux joined the vocals, but paled in comparison to the passion that Vi and Powder shared.

Someday love will find you Break those chains that bind you One night will remind you How we touched and went our separate ways

Vi sang,

If he ever hurts you

Then Powder,

True love won't desert you

And together again, grasping each other’s hands as they belted,

You know I still love you Though we touched and went our separate ways

Lux shredded through the guitar solo, a cocky smirk resting on her lips. Then it was just Ekko, running the synth hook, the song ending with the final two notes of the bass drum.

When the applause and cheers died down, Powder pointed at Viktor. “Alright, Vik, you’ve had it too good for too long. It’s your turn, DJ.”

“Eh, good things never last.” He took his spot behind his equipment, playing a few warm up beats and house music. The couch was too small to fit all of them, so Powder, Jayce, Ekko and Zeri grabbed some lawn chairs.

After his series of beats and tracks, Viktor nodded decisively towards Lux. “You ready?”

“I was born ready,” Lux said. She left the mic in the stand to free her hands.

Viktor started with a snapping, electropop beat. Lux raised her hands, grinning slyly at Powder as she sang. The notes were simple, but she added vibrato to the notes, made the sound her own.

We are the crowd, we're c-comin' out Got my flash on, it's true Need that picture of you, it's so magical We'd be so fantastical

Leather and jeans,

She spread her arms wide, indicating the space.

Garage glamorous Not sure what it means But this photo of us, it don't have a price Ready for those flashing lights 'Cause you know that, baby, I

Lux took the mic in hand, stalking towards Powder in time to the music.

I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me Papa-paparazzi Baby, there's no other superstar, you know that I'll be Your papa-paparazzi

Standing directly in front of her, legs between Powder’s knees, Lux’s free hand toyed with her braids. Powder lifted her hands and claimed the back of Lux’s thighs, holding her there. She gazed up at Lux with adoring, hungry eyes.

Promise I'll be kind But I won't stop until that girl is mine Baby, you'll be famous, chase you down until you love me Papa-paparazzi

Lux’s voice was playful as she went through the verses, gliding around Powder, brushing her fingers over her shoulders, never quite close enough. But as the bridge ended, Lux fell to her knees in front of her, crawling towards Powder as she sang the chorus once more, her voice fiercely possessive.

I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me Papa-paparazzi Baby, there's no other superstar, you know that I'll be Your papa-paparazzi

Powder held her breath. She was spellbound by Lux’s intensity, fixed in place by those bright eyes and the carnal rawness of her voice. Lux added in her own high notes to the final chorus, belting the song as she climbed into Powder’s lap.

Promise I'll be kind But I won't stop until that girl is mine Baby, you'll be famous, chase you down until you love me Papa-paparazzi

The mic dropped to the floor as Lux took her mouth in a rough kiss. Everyone cheered except for Vi and Caitlyn, who averted their eyes and clapped politely, charmed but embarrassed at the fiery display.

The jam session went well into the night, with each of the band members switching off instruments whenever they got too tired. Even Caitlyn at one point felt the rosé enough to show everyone her under-practiced, jerky rendition of Moonlight Sonata, to which Zeri chose to do an entirely inappropriate dance to, making everyone laugh. They went through a variety of genres, and the original Firelights even played a few of the songs from their past performances. Eventually, the group decided to call it, with Powder taking the mic to lead them into one final song.

Acapella, Powder sang the lead, with Vi and Ekko backing her up with harmonies,

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landside, No escape from reality Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,

Powder belted out,

I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low, Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to Me, to me

Ekko played a gentle, modified scale on the keyboard. The rest of the group joined in, all singing together for the first verse.

Mamaaa, Just killed a man, Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, Now he's dead Mamaaa, life had just begun, But now I've gone and thrown it all away

Powder took the lead again on the second half of the verse,

Too late, my time has come, Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all The time Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go, Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth

During the instrumental break, Vi tore up a guitar solo. Her fingers pulsed against the fret with each note, creating a vibrato sound. When the solo ended, Ekko’s piano took over again. Powder sang,

I see a little silhouetto of a man,

The rest of the band sang,

Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the Fandango!

They all broke out into smiles during the operatic third verse. Powder alone,

I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me

Zeri and Lux both grabbed her, dramatically fawning as they sang,

He's just a poor boy from a poor family Spare him his life from this monstrosity

As the verse built towards it’s climactic end, they all sang,

Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me,

“Go Starlight!” Powder yelled, and Lux belted the high note,

For me!

Vi shredded out another guitar instrumental, screaming into the microphone with the rest of the band,

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye? So you think you can love me and leave me to die? Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby! Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

She kept up the pace, the energy building until finally the music collapsed back into a slower tempo. The couch audience held up their phone flashlights, swaying back and forth to the muted end of the song.

Powder took a moment to look at them, her family. It had grown so much in such a short time. She smiled at each of their shining faces, ending with Vi, who returned the joyful grin. Powder sang,

Nothing really matters,

Lux took her hand, drawing her attention, and sang,

Anyone can see

Powder pressed her sweaty forehead against Lux’s, singing,

Nothing really matters

Lux echoed,

Nothing really matters

Then they harmonized,

To me

Ekko played the gentle piano outro, Vi joining quietly on the electric guitar. And here, surrounded by the music and her family, Powder felt completely and totally at peace.

Any way the wind blows

#arcane #lightcannon #vicait #jinx #vi #rock band au #battle of the bands au #my fic #face the noise #beat the daylight #fluff #final chapter #completely 100% wholesome and happy family vibes #the happy ending our babies deserve :')

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