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hiraya-rawr · 2 years

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little star — diluc 。

synopsis!! everyone knows the creator doesn't favor diluc (everyone is wrong).

cw !! gn reader, reader is peak diluc simp 😐 somewhat self-aware characters, mild sagau themes (not too much), reader is recognized as the player, reader is a little shy at first. angst with reverse comfort!

note !! the plot feels a little everywhere but i tried to organize it as best as i can, i think i got carried away eheh honestly doesn't feel up to my standards but it was pretty enjoyable to write

word count !! 2.8k something

"No, it's definitely Outrider Amber, she was the first to ever be favored."

"Are you kidding me? Outrider Amber may be the first, but sir Kaeya was definitely loved. Have you seen the sword he was gifted with?" One growls.

"It's the Acting Grand Master Jean!" Someone slams the table with his beer mug, "Twice was she bestowed with fallen stars of gold."

"I'd say that wolf boy in the woods seem lucky."

"It has to be Bennett. I don't know why but that kid has two crowns! Two!"

"You're all missing out on Miss Lisa!"

"Stop, stop! You rowdy drunks! Every vision holder in Mond has been granted favor, this is just impossible to decide!"

There was a pause. "Well. . . not every." Someone mumbles under their breath.

"Not every? Who's the poor allogene that couldn't even get the Player's favo—" Shushing sounds break his sentence, the men glare at their companion, pointing to the redhead behind the bar.

It's useless, really.

Diluc has been listening in the entire time. He can't really help it when their voices were loud enough to reach where he stood. Still, he was merciful and pretended not to hear. He's not exactly bothered by what they're saying. It was the truth, after all.

For two years, vision holders all around Teyvat were being granted favor.

It often begins with a meteor shower gracing the sky.

A star gently falling into the hands of a vision holder, embracing them in warm light.

They call the ethereal sensation as something akin to "coming home".

The favored would then be given different things; quality weapons, enhanced abilities, beautiful crowns— Some allogenes were even gifted summer apparel (Mondstadt is proud that their Gunnhildr sisters were one of the very first). Even their equipped wings would change into ornamented works of art!

It's been two years, and it seems like every allogene he knows of has received the Player's grace.

He supposed he just wasn't favored. It isn't too difficult to believe that he isn't likable.

He convinces himself it's fine.

It's fine if his summoned weapon is a cheap claymore made of scrap metal. It's still efficient to have the extra blade while he manually carries around another claymore (commissioned from Wagner as the best money could buy). Or that his abilities can only be improved through hardwork, unlike the many who broke the limits of their power through your favor.

It's fine.

As the bar goers leave for the night, as Venti and Kaeya wave around their almost divine-looking five-star weapons to show the crowd, and as he's closing up the tavern and retreating to his upstair quarters for comfort, he convinces himself that the he'll be okay on his own.

•

The arrival of the Creator was festive and grand; The day the sky parted itself and glowed as the brightest of all stars fell with grace into Mondstadt's very own Windrise.

Teyvat rejoices in the ecstatic ideal of being loved.

A meeting of vision holders was quickly held in the Cathedral, discussing immediate plans as some of the most favored (Venti, Jean, Kaeya, Albedo to name a few) went ahead to fetch the Creator from the large tree.

While Diluc was often the center of any other meeting due to his authority and influence, this was something he chose to step back from. Standing by the windows, away from the meeting, he watched on as Eula and the rest conversed around the circular table.

He isn't even sure why he's invited. Perhaps they felt it was obligatory for vision holders, regardless of favorability? Then again, he could always offer a fraction of his mountain-loads of wealth to help with the festivities.

At least he's competent at being a wallet.

As the others pull out their crowns and stars, weapons and artifacts, eager to thank the one responsible for the gifts, an unknown emotion bubbles in his stomach. It's faint, but it's there.

He tries to look away.

"Everyone, everyone! They're entering the gates!" Fischl announces uncharacteristically to the room as her eye glows brightly, undoubtedly looking through Oz's eyes from the sky.

"We should wait by the statue to welcome them, right?" Barbara chirps in, hands clasped and wavy hair bouncing with every step.

Diluc watches as people steadily leave the room, following last as they walk down the steps to greet the approaching group. Some civilians gathered to see the scene, others didn't really understand what a Player or Creator was to a vision holder, while Diluc—

Diluc stood by the steps to see them crowd around you.

You, surrounded with words of gratitude and cheerful squeals. He sees the smile on your face and feels relief that you don't seem too overwhelmed.

He leaves the area without a second thought.

•

He doesn't exactly see you around the next few days. With Mondstadt celebrating a new festival, the taverns were always full and busy with customers (both local and foreign). You were probably busy too, spending time with the different allogenes and entertaining those who came from Liyue to meet you. He's heard of a funeral consultant with three crowns (are consultants that admirable of a job to you?) and an adeptus gifted with various five-star polearms (this was understandable for the adepti, unlike the consultant).

He doesn't expect to see you at all until you leave for the next nation, honestly.

That is, until the tavern settles into a more peaceful atmosphere and Jean rushes in with several other allogenes. It's unusual to see his childhood friend in the tavern; still, he greets her amicably and asks what brings her here.

"(Name) will be coming here soon with Kaeya and a few others. It's a little impromptu, but we were hoping for a place to settle in with drinks. Perhaps try some apple cider." She smiles, taking a seat by the bar.

(Name)? Jean was already on a first name basis with the Creator?

Diluc thinks perhaps Jean truly is the favorite, she does have a few golden stars in her home.

Somehow, it's not surprising at all to know that his apple cider was famous enough to drag you in. At least there's something about the Dawn Winery in your favor. He promptly gets his employees to work, clearing a few tables near the bar, rearranging the furniture to give space good enough for a group.

Your entrance into the bar was just as lively; with your favored allogenes chatting away with you, everyone falling into place at different parts of the tavern, ordering drinks and meals.

He's glad you enjoy apple cider.

•

You're trying to play it cool, really. Trying your best not to get overexcited and glomp everyone and everything.

You're taking things step by step as you converse with Jean, Lisa, and Albedo; as you share meals with Barbara and Sucrose; as you play with Klee and Diona; tour the city with Fischl and Bennett. There's plenty of time to meet everyone and your schedule has been filled to the brim with all the fun your having.

You'll see that glimpse of red hair again— one that was lingering by the Cathedral staircase. Diluc doesn't like crowds, so it's fine that he isn't approaching you. It's also fine that he hasn't visited at least once, unlike the several raging from Liyue to Sumeru who took the journey to meet you early.

Diluc is too busy a person to meet you; whether it's because of the winery or his darknight hero duties, you wouldn't dare take his time.

— but when are you supposed to give him all the gifts you've brought for him???

Your determination to build him up in one go, from Talent levels to Constellations to Artifacts and Weaponry, all came down to this moment — and the man was simply nowhere to be seen!

An unknowingly loud sigh escapes your lips, catching the attention of the Cavalry Captain next to you.

"Now, what's got our (Name) so down in the dumps?" Kaeya hums, glancing at your face as you stutter a response.

"Aah it's not that, it's just. . ."

Your brother is too busy, I just want to meet him!!

"I'm thirsty." You deflect, looking around for a stall. The streets of Mond were nothing like the minimized version you see in the game; with the city being ten times larger than what you remembered it to be.

"Oh! Oh! Klee suggests apple cider!" The little girl giggles, running around your legs in excitement, "Angel's Share is nearby and big brother Albedo alwaaays takes me there for apple cider!"

Angel's Share. Bartender. A great idea has appeared!

At the excited look on your face, Jean walks up ahead of you.

"Why don't I go and inform the tavern to prepare us a space first, it would save us the waiting time."

"That would be great, Jean!"

•

You hope you aren't being too obvious.

With the way your eyes would linger on him, casting side glances and hoping he would greet you to strike up a conversation, the way most allogenes do. You didn't want to abruptly disturb his work, nor do you want seem desperate, so you waited for his initiative.

Yet, Diluc lingers just a little outside your group's circle. Your food and drinks were refilled by Charles, you've talked with nearly everyone but the person you want to talk to.

"It's getting pretty late, we should head home for the night." Someone suggests.

What?

No!

"Hm? Do you still have something in mind?" Kaeya asks. You realized you said it out loud, catching the attention of nearby patrons.

With a frantic glance around the tavern, your eyes make contact with Diluc's. He pauses as well, wondering what caused your little outburst.

You are definitely not leaving, not when you don't know when you could catch Diluc in his free time again! You'd be leaving for Liyue by then!

Hands slamming the table to stand up and with a small burst of courage, you approach the bartender who turns away from Charles. He raises an eyebrow at your approach. It's odd the way you feel flustered and nervous, finally facing him.

Pausing just in front of him, he looks on curiously.

"Would you like a refill?" He asks.

"A-ah no, I mean, yes but that's not why I'm here. I. . ." You stutter, stumbling over your words as you try not to behave awkwardly. Should you start with a casual topic?

"You seem to be quite busy." You say.

Diluc blinks. He isn't sure what you're implying. Neither is Kaeya or Jean, who stopped to look at the exchange of words.

"I suppose. . . but as a winery, we do thrive in impromptu festivities." He replies curtly before realizing, was it rude that he never visited the Creator?

"Ah, is it my lack of visit? I apologize, I would have visited but it seems that you were quite satisfied with your favorites and-"

"No, no, no," You wave your hand, cutting him off, "I understand you're busy. You don't have to visit at all! How could I take your time— wait," You pause, recalling his words.

"Favorites?" You tilt your head, "What do you mean I seemed satisfied with my favorites? What do you mean by favorites?"

"Your favorites... allogenes who received your favor. Those you have granted gifts."

Your jaw laxes. Favorites? They decided you play favorites based on how much you've built them?

"You think. . ." You say carefully, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, "That I offer gifts to my favorites?"

Diluc nods slowly, unsure of your questioning.

Although it would be a lie to say you didn't have your personal favorites, it would still be inaccurate that it's based on gifts. After all, you built everyone who came home by chance. As an avid player, you did your best to farm and push everyone to their full potential.

Diluc, however, never came home no matter how much you wanted him to. It can't be possible that he doesn't know how much he is loved, right?

"Then what about you?" You blurt out, "How do you think I view you?"

He stares at you oddly. At this point, many around you had stopped to tune in. Everyone knew Master Diluc never received your favor, so why are you conversing with him?

Meanwhile, Diluc wonders if you want him to admit it. Must he say it in front of everyone how he never received gifts?

"I suppose. . . I'm not one of them. It's quite understandable. I don't intend to question your judgement—"

"What?" You exclaim, a look of shock crosses your face, "You think I don't like you?" Voice raised in disbelief, you feel the eyes of many turning to watch the scene.

Diluc mirrors your confusion.

"I can't believe you would– no, that isn't it at all!" You stutter over your words, a frantic need to prove him wrong goes through you, "You— you of all people!"

"Me?" He repeats.

"I've always wanted you!"

A silence settles over the tavern. Did you have to put it so bluntly? You freeze in shock at your own words. Diluc's expression of disbelief turns flustered, face turning as red as his hair.

Explain yourself.

"I- I mean, I've always wanted you to come home. Ever since the start, really! It's just that you never did-"

"Hmm... so it implies that it's out of your control, correct?" Kaeya piqued, looking on curiously. He's been listening in the entire time. You nod your head.

"Yes! It's a game of chance for me as well. It's not to say that favor is an accident, I truly wanted everyone to come home! It's just that—" You turn to Diluc, "You never did, no matter how much I wanted you to. How was I supposed to give you your gifts?"

Diluc snaps out of his shock, blinking at you, "Gifts?"

"Yes, gifts! I've been saving them up for you, ever since the start." You pause, shyly looking away, "When I said I wanted you since the beginning I meant it. I came here for you, after all."

He looks at you in disbelief, and probably half the tavern as well. You can't help the small chuckle from your lips. With an outstretched hand, something materializes between you. It glows a blinding golden light, before settling to reveal–

"Wolf's Gravestone. It's a weapon for you."

You didn't have to say it— anyone with eyes could see how it was practically made for Diluc. With large handles and a color scheme that matches his own, Wolf's gravestone doesn't look as divine or ethereal as the other weapons you've gifted, but it looked just as powerful, if not menacing.

With a gesture, Diluc grips the handle.

"Fits like a glove." Kaeya whistles, impressed. As does the rest of the tavern who stopped to stare.

Suddenly, flames burst forth from the weapon. It sears and glows red. Unlike the common claymore that can't handle the the prowess of Diluc's flames, Wolf's Gravestone embraces it. Like an extension of his own hand.

He breaks his gaze away from the weapon to look at you.

"Thank you. . ." He mutters softly, but it's genuine. You smile.

"That's not the last of it, you know."

"What?"

With another flick of your hand, artifacts and talent books materialize. They flow around him like a dance as more and more begin to appear, lighting up the tavern like the night sky.

"I told you I brought gifts!"

All the days spent farming for him and other pyro characters finally paid off. The glimmering artifacts reflected in his own red eyes as he stares, entranced.

Favor did not come to him in meteor showers like it did to the other allogenes; rather, it came to him in your form. Proof of him being loved. The spectacle continued— after the artifacts and talent levels were the constellation (the crowd ooh'ed and aah'ed at the sight), then came the five star apparel (a nostalgic sight to him, and it changed his flames to a darker red), and the ascension materials you passed off as trinkets.

By the end of it, he had a hand over his lower face, his red bangs hid just the ends of his eyes. "I just thought I wasn't that favorable. . ." He muttered and you leaned in to peek at his covered face, wondering why he was shying away.

But it was evident to the tavern— the pink dusted ears, the flushed cheeks, and the overwhelming emotion in his eyes. Diluc Ragnvindr was flustered, and it's a sight enough to make even the drunks place down their beers for a closer look.

You bit your lip, trying to prevent the widest of smiles, "Do you believe yourself loved now?" You ask and he gives the faintest of nods.

"Thank you," He says, "For favoring me."

m.list 2 || consider supporting me on ko-fi ! || sagau m.list

note !! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE a very short brainrot that became a fic huhuhuhu

I don't often write creator sagau themes but here we are! this is like peak diluc simpery idk ive never been this down for a man. i wrote this immediately after getting his skin i just got so excited 😅 I wanted to spoil him so bad (but i gave all his mats to thoma before he came home :< )

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @shizunxie

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queenie-avenue · 4 months

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Take my hand, take my whole life too.

💌 ⤻ ft. THE CEO, THE CHEERLEADER, THE BASEBALL PLAYER, THE ACADEMIC RIVAL

—> Headcanons of an established relationship with the yanderes!

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader for the cheerleader and the baseball player are the same, yandere, fluff (ignore the red flags), red flags (you actually can't ignore them), drugging, stalking, possessive behaviour, stealing of personal property, invasion of privacy, obsessive behaviour, photos without consent, slightly suggestive.

note: my first joint post with all the yanderes I have so far! this is honestly a celebratory post for me reaching a 100 followers. thank you so much for all your support <33 this post is very light on the yandere content, I'll probably make a post just inclusive of their more yandere tendencies. first post of 2024!

🦋 ⤻ archives

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, ADRIAN HOUDE

— Despite his professional exterior and PR-like smile, Adrian really melts for you. His love is passionate akin to a flame, and obsessive like a forest fire.

— Though he certainly has urges to tie you up and just never let you leave his luxury apartment, he is one of the most tolerant and sane one of all the other yandere characters.

— A gentleman. His grandma was a large part of his life, and he practically grew up with her teaching him how to treat a lady properly. He will never do anything untoward towards you and always asks whether it's okay to kiss you.

"May I kiss you?" He asked softly, his hands wrapped around your waist, his long pale fingers rubbing circles around your hip as he looked up at you expectantly. For such a ruthless man in the business world, he was like putty in your arms.

You smiled at him and nodded your head with a goofy grin as he leaned in.

Slowly, his lips claimed yours, suckling on your lower lip gently and sensually. His hands were bolder than usual, gripping you close to him on his couch. "You're such a gentleman." You whispered into his lips, making him smirk.

If only you knew the type of fantasies he had where he wasn't.

— His love language is physical touch. His hands always graze yours when no one is watching, his body pressed against yours in the elevator even when it's only the two of you. It's tamer at work, but at home, but the moment you get home, his hands are all over you.

— Prefers to keep the relationship private till engagement. His grandmother — sweet as she can be — is just like the rest of his family, judgemental when it comes to spouses. He wants to be in a place where no one can contest your love for each other. Even if they do, he's not going to change.

— Easily jealous. If you even breathe in the direction of another employee — regardless of gender because he sees anyone who interacts with you as a threat — he summons you into his office like it's time for an execution.

"Are you crazy?" He hissed at you, hands slamming you against the edge of his desk as he scooped you onto the glass table. "Doing that in front of me? Do you know how many documents I'm supposed to be looking through today?" He asked, not giving you the chance to answer by gripping your shoulders and hair, slightly tugging at it. It wasn't hard enough to be hurtful, but there was a slight sting.

His eyes were crazed as they darted between your lips and your eyes, glaring at them, as if trying to find a hint of interest in the person that had patted you on the back. What were seconds of staring felt like hours as his grip tightened.

"No, no. You're not leaving this office until I know you belong to me, and only me."

— Afterwards, though, he will be remorseful for snapping at you. He knows it's not your fault. You would never leave him, but he knows how naive you can be — even if you aren't — so he just wants to protect you! Everyone else is in the wrong, clearly.

Adrian's hand soothed down your back as he kissed your cheeks. "I'm sorry, mon chéri." He whispered as he ducked his head back into the curve of your neck. "I know I wasn't being a gentleman by getting mad at you... this isn't how my grandmother raised me to be." He sighed, disappointed in himself.

"It's fine." You promised, even if you were still a bit shaken up by his terrifying behaviour.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

How sorry could he actually be, though? He always did this and he always enjoyed the blush on your face afterwards.

— Although he buys you your favourite flowers, he does typically buy you roses as well. He is a traditional man, after all. (Unless you dislike roses, like me-)

— His nicknames for you are a mix between endearing English nicknames and romantic French Nicknames that make you shiver whenever he speaks: My love, my muse, little dressmaker, mon chéri, mon ange, chaton.

— If you can't tell, all his nicknames typically have 'my' in front. It's a subtle way of possessing you all for himself.

— Even if you both lived together, he would still steal your belongings like you had no idea he had a crush on you. Specifically, pens or your lotion or perfume if you use any. If you have journals, just know that it will be stolen to be read through once every week. Every thought belongs to him; all of you belong to him.

"Don't forget that, mon ange."

💌 ⤻ THE CHEERLEADER, KATIE WILLIAMS

— Always drags you to her games. However, she makes it very clear that you're there to watch her, not the team.

"Were your eyes on me the entire time, pom-pom?" She asked eagerly as she leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your sensitive neck.

"You weren't looking at Jesper, were you? You're only allowed to look at me, okay?" She insisted as you nodded, too tired from the cheering you did for the cheerleader to protest.

— Every weekend, she insists on a date. It doesn't need to be a fancy place but it can just simply be cuddling on the couch and watching a move. (Psst, her favourite movie is Jennifer's Body.)

— She can't cook very well, but she'll try, just for you! Most of the time, it's you who has to take over the cooking, though. Honestly, you're much better at cooking than she'll ever be. If you manage to burn water, she'll somehow catch it on fire.

— Very decent at baking, though! She likes making cookies for you. Which may or may not be laced with some sleeping pills. Or some other drug that will make you more... relaxed as she snoops through your belongings.

— Her nicknames for you are all very cutesy and girly, to the point some of her teammates cringe at them: pom-pom, kitten, cinnamon roll, sponge cake.

— Her love language is words of affirmation. She just loves praising you, okay? She just needs to praise you. I mean, you're literally perfect.

"Your hair is like- so pretty." She commented, playing with your locks of hair, running her fingers through it as her eyes focused on each strand; obsessed. "I can't believe I'm dating someone with such nice hair." She blurted out, which made you laugh.

"What?" You chuckled.

"You know what I mean, I just love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I feel sorry for you if that's the case." You attempted to joke, but for the next hour, she made sure you knew you were the best with her actions and words.

— The easily jealous type. When she's jealous, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you in, making sure you can't escape.

— Likes to spray perfume over your clothes so everyone knows you belong to her and only her. She goes to crazy lengths to ensure no one has the same perfume as her so that it'll be clear who you are with.

"Oh? You think [y/n]'s copying my style?" She asked one of the cheerleaders, a giddy smile on her face. "Why?"

"I mean, I get that you're their girlfriend, but she's kind of smelling like you now too. Isn't that a bit creepy?" Katie simply smiled at the comment and told her to mind her own business. How dare someone insinuate that you're creepy? Even if you were creepy, she'd love you. Like a small thing like that could stop her.

💌 ⤻ THE BASEBALL PLAYER, JESPER HARGREAVES

— The definition of a golden retriever. He is always clingy to you, and wants your attention almost all the time.

— Of all the characters, he is possibly the one who will resort to violence the most when it comes to you.

— His love language is a mixture of quality time and physical touch.

"Where are you going?" Jesper whined as he tried to grab at your waist. "Don't leave... I only just came." That was a complete lie, Jesper had been here with you for hours, skipping practice just so he could hang out with his darling.

"I need to get to the library to study for this test." You tried to reason with him.

"The library? But you can just study here! I promise I'll be quiet, and I won't bother you!" He whimpered, gripping onto you tighter.

"Fine." You sighed as Jesper got his way again.

— Whenever you come to watch his practices, he makes sure to work extra hard just to impress you. He's the star athlete, so he's already the best on the team, but everyone can tell he works harder when your eyes are on him. If you're not there, he'll slack off a bit so his team has to make sure that you're always there when it comes to matches or they'll lose.

— After matches — despite the fact he's drenched in sweat — he will always come running up to you, irregardless of whether you like it when he hugs you when you're sweaty or not.

— Will and can beat up someone for you if they disrespect you. He's a sweet boy, but only for you, he can be quite brutal when you're not there.

Jesper looked down at the bruised guy beneath his foot. "Touch them again, and I'll make sure I'll give you a matching black eye, asshole." He hissed.

— Jesper likes to fold origami flowers for you. Of course, there's also variety in what he makes, but if you have a favourite flower or animal, he'll always make some and place it on your desk. The question that remained was how did he manage to do that before you guys got together and you gave him the extra key to your dorm?

— If you ever blame him for anything or you get antsy with him, he just assumes it's either he did something wrong or your friends said something about him to make you not like him.

💌 ⤻ THE ACADEMIC RIVAL, SEO MIN-JUN

— Will honestly be the most loving thing there is on the planet to make up for all the bullying he did to you.

— Probably manipulated you into dating him, to be honest.

— Despite how it may seem, Min-jun pays a lot of attention to you — it helps with the fact he stalks you a lot — and will often pick up on your wants and needs before you even know it. Sometimes, when you're hungry in class, he'll slide over your favourite protein bar or a piece of honey candy from a brand you like.

— Korea is huge on fashion trends and while Min-jun is rather neutral about it all, he insists heavily on wearing certain things that are typical 'couple-matching' with you.

"I got you something." He said, dumping the small gift bag on your desk, his eyes narrowing as you looked at the bag with curiosity.

"Can I open it?" You asked meekly, still a bit concerned with how sweet he was acting now that the both of you were... dating. He nodded his head, and you fished out a pair of matching rings. Knowing your boyfriend's pride, the diamonds on them were no doubt real.

"You'll wear them, won't you?" God, he was still scary, even after being tamed by being your boyfriend.

— Will introduce you to his parents fairly early on. He wants to make it clear that both of you are dating to get married. Nothing less.

— His love language is probably acts of service with a mix of gift giving.

He slid a pen over to you. "I heard your pen broke because you stupidly stepped on it. I got this made especially so it won't snap that easily.

"Unless you're that idiotic to be able to break even this material." He sighed as he rested his head on your shoulder, only quickly shooting up when he realised both of you were still in class. Darn it, you and you stupid face!

He had a reputation to uphold, you know!

— "Study sessions" almost everyday, uh-huh. Right. Sure, both of you study for maybe three hours but then the moment the clock his the three hour mark, it's time for him to bully you with his addictive kisses.

— His kisses are honestly a bit sloppy. Can you blame him? He's never had a partner before, he used to be so focused on studies before you stole his attention.

— No matter what, he is still competitive with you, and his mean side can slip out. Especially when you anger him.

"Are you making fun of me?" He hissed as he pinned you against his king sized bed, his legs over yours to ensure you do not escape him. "Answer me." Min-jun seethed as he used his free hand to grip your chin tightly.

"Look at me. Answer the question, yeo-bo."

— He knows that he's a catch, but he refuses to let you interact with anyone that you could possibly be attracted to. He goes crazy to the point of actually warning other students to not interact with you, isolating you so you'd only be with him.

— His nicknames for you are: yeo-bo (a term of endearment used between married couples in korea), my rival. He has the least nicknames for you.

#yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #female yandere x reader #yandere female x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere male #yandere female #female yandere #male yandere #happy new year

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prideofcelestia · 9 months

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❝ when you say that nobody got you a cake for your birthday ❞

« characters - lucifer, mammon, satan, leviathan »

« gender neutral reader »

« headcanons »

sol ver

LUCIFER

“What?” His eyes widen in disbelief.

“Yeah... so we would all put money together to buy a cake for my other friends but since my birthday fell during the summer vacation, I never really cut any cake with my friends.”

He declares an emergency family meeting where he orders Mammon and Asmodeus to choose a venue for a party, Leviathan to decide the food menu, and Satan, Beelzebub and Belphegor to look after the decorations. He personally hires one of the best pâtissiers in the Devildom to make a cake especially for your party. It will be a private affair with only the brothers attending.

Lucifer will get you another cake to cut in private later but first you must get a taste of celebrating with close friends who are also akin to your family.

When you see the cake, you are rendered speechless. It has a tier for every year of your age. Even if your time is fleeting, every second that has passed and is yet to grace you matters. You matter and they will do their best to remind you of it.

MAMMON

“What would ya say?!”

He is royally pissed at your friends. It's good that you have him in your life now. The Great Mammon will make everything right.

“O-Oi human! Come to my room after classes today.”

“Mammon? I thought you had to stay back for detention.”

“Well don't think about those stupid details, would ya?”

You sigh and accept the invitation. There's no saving one who doesn't want to be saved.

When you enter his room, you know something is off. It has nothing to do with the room itself. It's his nervousness that makes you suspicious.

“Mammon, are you okay?”

“I just- Close your eyes!”

“What? What's this all of a sudden?”

“Trust me and close your eyes!”

“Okay okay!”

You follow his instructions, only to be met with a shy plea immediately as he scurries across the room.

“Open your eyes now... Surprise!”

The cake he gets you is the colour of molten gold and looks like a Grimm from the top.

“Oh my Diavolo, Mammon! It's such a sweet gesture.”

“I couldn't just let my servant go without cutting a cake! What kinda master wo-would I be otherwise, huh?” He manages to say with blushing cheeks.

He can hardly look at you so you wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheeks in gratitude. He is ready to explode. Atleast he will explode as a happy demon.

LEVIATHAN

“Ehhh? EHHHH?! You?! Bu-But But you are so amazing and sweet! How can those normies ever forget about you?! It’s not as if you are a pathetic gross otaku li-like me?!”

He takes some time to process the information and feels sad about it. Even he cannot relate to you because his brothers had never let him celebrate a birthday without throwing a surprise party.

It has always been easy to plan for him because he hardly left his room and so the brothers held their secret meetings without a worry. Similarly, it was child’s play for him to plan a small party for you from the comfort of his room.

Your DDD vibrates because of a message from Leviathan.

“Can you come to my room rn? I have something to show you.”

The moment the door opens, the sound of party crackers catches you off guard and before you know it, you are covered in party streamer.

“SURPRISE!”

You blink to find a cake shaped like a gaming controller with "Player 2" written on it in a cute style.

Levi has arranged some of his figurines and Henry’s fish tank to surround the cake. They have a small party hat on top of their heads. Henry swims around happily as if to show off in front of you.

SATAN

He shuts his book in rage.

“The audacity! How could they?” He mumbles to himself when he is alone.

He is only too well acquainted with the feeling of being excluded. It hurts. It hurts when he doesn’t supress his feelings well and the wrath that comes with it is not sweet either.

He feels sad and extremely offended on your behalf but he also acknowledges that his feelings won’t amount to a lot if he doesn’t act on it.

He decides on a small, intimate celebration with the two of you and some of your feline companions.

He gets you a cake in your favourite flavour, carefully listing your allergies, likes and dislikes. He ditches his first idea of getting one that looks like the head of a cake. It would be sacrilege to eat it!

The cats seem to understand the mood because they mewl and Satan sings when you cut the cake. He is awkward while singing so don’t let it get out of his room! The smile on your face compensates his embarrassment.

#obey me #obey me x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral mc #obey me x mc #obey me!#shion script #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #x mc #x reader #obey me imagines #obey me mammon #birthday #fluff

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questionotmystopit · 4 months

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Self-aware AU in Genshin/Star Rail as opposed to the Player in HI3rd

In my personal interpretation of the players' influence/presence in the three games, it's quite nebulous. In Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail especially, it would be borderline impossible to truly detect the players' existence.

Let me explain. The characters we control as the player are NOT the actual characters themselves. They are more akin to the copies of the characters you control in the Simulated Universe. The player clones are non-sapient copies of the characters they are based on, and the abilities of the playable ones are loosely based on their template character.

The player clones differ crucially from the real version because they only display snippets of their 'personality' at a time. (Voicelines triggered on certain conditions/Idle animations) The clones do not display true sentience, instead saying predetermined dialogue. 'Player clone' refers to practically every character we see in the game. The clones are made to recreate what is actually happening to the Trailblazer in the story. Meaning, every character you see isn't the real person.

The best way I can think to describe it is using a plasma globe. When you put your finger to the glass, the energy arcs on your hand, but it does not actually touch you. Similarly, you playing the games causes the world to react to you, but it cannot truly interact with you. The 'player clones' are shadows made by the arcs of energy reaching for your hand, but being blocked by the glass.

Also, the scene where you choose the Traveler/Trailblazer was you first touching the plasma globe. They are your main point of contact. They are your manifestation inside the plasma globe. That's why you default to them when talking to people, and why the world/story is almost entirely seen from their perspective. However, using pre-existing characters as a point of contact crucially changes the situation from Honkai Impact 3rd. In Honkai Impact 3rd, the player is nebulously represented as the 'Captain of the Hyperion'. However, the Captain doesn't exist in the main story.

The Captain canonically exists only as a representative for the players, meaning that players as the Captain are easier to detect than players as the Traveler or Trailblazer. This is because Captain's status as a pure self-insert (doesn't canonically do anything or express any personality outside of your will) means that the interference from the Player touching the plasma globe as the Captain is more direct and noticeable by beings with enough awareness (Aeons and maybe others).

Well, that's all for now. I'm not dead, btw

#honkai star rail #genshin impact #sagau #self aware honkai star rail #hi3 #hi3 captain

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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Tastiest Treat.

Scaramouche x Reader.

Word count: 1.1k.

“No.”

Scaramouche shuts you down the mere second you excitedly enter his line of sight. It isn’t an unexpected reaction, that incessant scowl often seen on his otherwise pretty face. You think looking grumpy might be a hobby of his. How pitiful is that? This is exactly why your presence in his life is a need, not a want.

You consider voicing this sentiment, only to wisely decide against it. To get what you want today, you’ll need to choose your battles carefully. This isn’t a fight you should pick.

… Maybe tomorrow, instead.

“Huh? I haven’t even said anything yet,” you reply.

He waves off your faux offense as if he were swatting a pesky bug. Which, if his current miffed expression is anything to go by, is exactly how he currently views you. That’d be hot water for anyone else. You’d say the temperature feels more lukewarm than anything. Comfortable enough to take a bath in.

“You didn’t need to. Your expression alone is enough to serve as a sufficient warning. Whatever strange request it is you’re inevitably about to ask of me, my answer is no.”

“I hope you’ll set aside your prejudiced misconceptions for just a moment to hear me out,” you reply without missing a beat. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose yet doesn’t attempt to stop you. He probably knows better than to try. “I only want to play a simple game with you. Something tells me you’ll enjoy it more than you think.”

The sales pitch must not have been as effective as you hoped, for he shakes his head. “Enjoyable for you, maybe. For someone who enjoys using the word ‘sadistic’ to describe me, you sure do take a fair share of delight in my torment.”

“It’s not torment, it’s character building. As the only person who isn’t at risk of an excruciating death for so much as breathing in your vicinity, I consider it my sworn duty to keep you humble. Or the closest thing you can get to it.”

He gives you a thin smile. “You sure do love testing my patience, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I love it nearly as much as you do. Now, for the game,” you pull out a thin biscuit-like stick covered in chocolate. “We both start eating from each end. You lose if your mouth comes off it or the opposing player gets to the middle first. Simple, right?”

Scaramouche eyes it warily. “You know I don’t care for sweets.”

“But you care for me, so let’s give it a shot anyway.”

(He noticeably doesn’t deny this).

“My answer is still no. Honestly, I can’t take my eyes off you… the second I do, you’re running off coming up with the most half-witted ideas. Should I follow through with that threat of tying you to my wrist after all?”

The grin he gives you is supposed to be menacing, you presume, but you’re undeterred. Such trials are the spice of life. Besides, you’re already well acquainted with his questionable sense of humor. “Thanks for reminding me to always keep a pair of scissors on hand. Anyway, if you really still don’t want to, then well…”

He inhales, bracing himself for the worst—

“That’s fine then.”

“What?” He blurts out, having all the grace of a newborn fawn trying to cross a frozen lake seconds after being born. Further forgetting the virtues of propriety, he points at you, his senses on the highest alert. “That… isn’t how this works. How you work.”

The Harbinger keeps you at arm’s length, as if you were actually any threat to him. Apprehension radiates off him in waves. You examine the treat in your grasp with something akin to yearning. Purposeful silence ensues, multiplying the already building tension in the air. He’s waiting with bated breath for whatever stunt you pull next.

You don’t keep him waiting long.

“I mean, I would’ve liked to play the game, since, y’know, it’s possible we might’ve ended up kissing,” you drop your shoulders while he processes the information being presented to him. “I guess I could look to see if someone else might take me up on my offer… well, sorry to bother you—”

“Hand it over.”

“Oh?”

“I forbid you from playing this ‘game’ with anyone else. After all, you said…” he trails off, his face flushing with color, “That… that a kiss could potentially arise as a result. I can’t allow that. Game or otherwise. Because I’m… ahem… the only person who has kissing privileges.”

You blink, finding the swiftness of your success unexpected. There were a few more plans hidden up your sleeve that will get to say there now. You underestimated how quick he’d be to disregard his pride so long as a kiss is on the table. Not wanting to waste any more time in case he regains his temporarily cast-aside dignity, you set the thin biscuit inside your mouth.

Scaramouche latches onto the other end with unrivaled vigor. You’d almost think his life was on the line by how seriously he’s taking this.

Your strategy is a simple one — the classic little nibbles that err on the side of caution. He mimics your approach, having to take a step forward to remain balanced from how close your bodies are becoming. From this angle, you’re treated to an unobscured view of his pretty features. The glassiness of his indigo eyes, the brushstrokes of red surrounding them, the cute creases from his nose being scrunched up in concentration.

There’s precious little you wouldn’t do to experience a sight like this.

You’re both making decent headway, though you’re the slightest bit closer to the middle. Victory should be within reach, so long as you keep this up—

Hm? What’s this pressure you’re feeling against your lips?

Soft, oh so soft. Warm too. Caressing, the slightest bit greedy.

Scaramouche is smirking at you, evidently very pleased with himself, savoring each second of your bewilderment. You mentally scour through the files of your short-term memory. He had moved so fast that your eyes could barely process the motion before them. In less than the time it took you to blink, he had taken a sizable bite, eliminating what little distance remained between your faces.

His teeth tug your lower lip toward him lightly when he pulls away, his eyes lidded. “I got to the middle before you did. Wouldn’t you say that means I won? What’s my prize?”

“Truthfully, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” you admit, to which he snorts. “Uh… best two out of three?”

He wipes a few stray crumbs from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“If I get to keep doing that, then we can go through your whole stupid box. Try me.”

#i just wanted to write a lil something <3 #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche brainrot #my stuff

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emjayewrites · 4 months

Text

The Fast Lane (A Formula One Series)(1/?)

SYNOPSIS: Jesenia joins the private, membership-based dating app Raya searching for a sugar daddy. Instead, she unknowingly finds her biggest “whale”: Lewis Hamilton, a famous Formula One racing driver.

PAIRING: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Jesenia "Jessy" Hart (face claim is @/loriharvey)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, cursing, explicit sexual content, not-so-glamorous life in the influencer/racing world, kind of pre-established relationship. RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @royallyprincesslilly, @mauvecherie-writes, @saintslewis, @peyiswriting, @hamiltonvuitton, @cocobutterqwueen, @qveenmelanink, @ashanti-notthesinger, @lewisroscoelove, @lovebittenbyevans, @lew1s-prix, @jasmindaughteroftheworld, @eugene-emt-roe, @apenasumlug4r, @simpfortoomanymen, @roseseraj, @alika-4466, @httpsserene, @queenshikongo3, @cherry2stems, @non-stop-imagines, @anubisnoir @myescapefromthislife @chaneajoyyy @yeea-nah @mitruscity @lewiscrown @weetjy @a-moment-captured @sugardontbesweet @shaytheeprettiest @livinglifethroughfanfic @blveeeeeee @formula-hamilton @purplelewlew @trinitoldyouso @slytherinjimim3nthusiast @certifiedlesbianbaddie

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My first time writing for Lewis Hamilton. I'm new as fuck to the Formula One fandom, so please be nice! And Jessy is basically me in written form because I barely know anything besides Lewis is fine as hell. Please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Anyways, enjoy! Dividers by @inklore!

P.S.: You’re going to hate the main character at first but trust me, you’ll grow to love her.

CHAPTER ONE: The Gospels of Jessy

It took almost a month for her Raya account approval, but once it happened, Jessy found herself swiping mindlessly whenever she had the chance. On a break from content planning – swipe. Bored in a meeting with her agents – swipe. Downtime at a brand event – swipe.

For the next few months, she found herself swiping, starting a conversation, going out on a date or two, maybe another date, then ghost.

Rinse, lather, wash, repeat.

The process was tiring, exhausting, going on and on without an end in sight, however, Jessy always enjoyed a challenge.

Her job as a model and designer afforded the life that requires constant travel to exotic places and being invited to the who's-who of events, yet despite this, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else foot the bill once in awhile for a non-brand trip and actually relax rather than worry endlessly about content.

To her, at this point of her life, being in a traditional relationship seemed impossible. Everything was transactional, so why should she devote her time and energy catering to a man who would presumably cheat on her anyways?

Her taste was akin to Chanel, not recent season Chanel, but vintage. Old luxury, with vacations to the Amalfi Coast and the Greek Islands via private yacht and the scent of Baccarat Rouge 540 flowing lazily in the air. Jessy's hectic upbringing led her to yearn a life of leisure, comfort, and stability. And she be damned to become just another baby mama to another ball player, no offense to her sister or mother. That stereotype, let alone overexertion on one's body, never made her want to jump on some random man's penis and sustain her livelihood solely on child support payments.

Fuck that.

Jessy aimed for investments — real estate, ideally, but she'd accept dividends and stocks as well. Along with her model/influencer income and sales from her swimwear brand, Silver Doe, she'd be able to have enough for the daily bits and her "retirement" plan.

She knew the sugaring game like the back of her hand. She knew what men liked, what they craved. Men were basic creatures to understand.

They wanted someone fuckable.

Someone that they could fuck and what others dream of fucking; arm candy if you will. Sure, a man may have a nice personality and manners, yet that was the key component of any relationship, at least according to the Gospels of Jessy.

Childhood trauma forced her to grow up fast and learn the intricacies of the world at a tender age. Her life carried on on two simple things to not fuck up: the bag and the gist of it all.

And when it came to this life as a sugar baby, she lived by those two things religiously.

The Gospels of Jessy. May we bow our heads in prayer.

Soft skin. "Clean girl" makeup. Fresh manicure and pedicure. Styled hair. Dressed to the nines.

These were the things that every man wanted his woman to have. And Lewis was no different.

Suffice to say, he'd never overtly say it, but Jessy knew what he expected and what was expected of him.

A man of his stature, his fame, needed to have a high-caliber woman on his arm. He needed a woman that was just as ubiquitous as he was.

This was her mantra. A checklist to ensure her place on his arm, to remain the focal point of jealousy among both men and women. Luckily for her, like all penis-having beings, Lewis had a tangent for beautiful women, and like all women looking for their comeuppance, Jessy played into that until she had him hook, line, and sinker.

It happened almost a month ago, during a rather boring conversation with a potential sugar daddy at Sexy Fish in Miami.

The guy was rich, balding, and slightly obese. Besides his multimillion-dollar fortune, he had no redeeming qualities. The conversation was just like him: bland and stale. When she got that message on Raya from Lewis, she felt as though it was a sign from the Lord above.

She didn't know fuck all about Formula One or professional racing, but she understood net worth and assets, which was something Lewis had an abundance of. His initial message was cute and straightforward, commenting about how attractive she was and if she had any downtime in the next few days for a date.

Of course, Jessy played coy at first, pretending to not know who he was and playing into his ego. In reality, she had already googled him the moment she saw his profile on Raya.

But Lewis seemed unfazed by her disinterest in his fame and wealth. It only made him more interested in her.

After some back-and-forth messaging, they agreed to meet for a casual late lunch at a trendy restaurant in downtown Miami. Jessy made sure to dress to impress, choosing a body-hugging red dress that showed off her curves and long, toned legs.

When she arrived at the restaurant, she spotted Lewis immediately. He was even more handsome in person with his charming smile and sharp jawline. As soon as he saw her, he stood up from his seat and pulled out her chair for her.

"Jessy," he said in an attractive British accent, smiling warmly as he kissed her hand gently. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Jessy replied with a flirtatious grin. She could tell right away that this was going to be an easy mark. He was shorter than the usual type of man she goes for; without her heels, she was only an inch shorter than his height of 5'9, but she decided to not let that be an issue. She was used to manipulating men of all shapes and sizes, and Lewis would be no different.

Lewis ordered her a bottle of expensive wine before even looking at the menu.

"You don't drink?" Jessy asked Lewis with a perplexed stare as she sipped on her glass of wine.

"Nah," Lewis replied in a deep timbre, chuckling. "I decided to give that up last year to gain more clarity. Being a vegan helps with that too."

Jessy raised an eyebrow, impressed by his discipline and self-control. She hadn't expected him to have such a strict lifestyle given his wealth and fame.

"So...you don't have any vices?" she wondered. "I'm not sure if I've ever met a man who doesn't have at least one."

Lewis laughed lightly and ran his fingers through his braided hair. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm completely free of vices, but I do my best to control them," he replied. "My main ones are racing...and something that's probably not appropriate to discuss at the moment."

Her mind immediately caught on to what he was suggesting - he had a strong sexual appetite.

So he's a freak, interesting.

Jessy nodded, intrigued by this side of Lewis. She had assumed he would be like many other wealthy men she had encountered – indulging in excess and living for the moment.

"What about you?" he asked her, leaning forward slightly with interest. "Do you have any vices?"

Jessy smirked, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip. "I think my biggest vice is shopping," she confessed.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, amused by her answer. "Shopping, huh? I wouldn't have guessed," he replied with a smug grin.

Jessy shrugged nonchalantly. "I just love nice things," she said. "But I also have a few other...vices." She leaned in closer to Lewis, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Oh really?" Lewis asked, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity. "Do tell."

"Well, let's just say I have a bit of a wild side as well," Jessy said seductively. "I enjoy experiencing new things and pushing boundaries."

Lewis chuckled, reveled by her boldness and confidence. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to her already.

"I can definitely appreciate a little wildness," he said with a wink.

They spent the rest of their lunch laughing, flirting, and getting to know each other more. They talked about everything from their favorite foods (Lewis loved hummus) to their childhoods (Lewis grew up in England while Jessy grew up in Miami).

As they finished their meal, Lewis suggested they take a walk around the city and explore some local shops. Jessy eagerly agreed, excited for the chance to spend more time with him.

They strolled through the busy streets of Miami, and Jessy couldn't help but notice that some people recognized him and whispered as they passed by. She was kind of used to being in the spotlight herself, but being seen with someone as famous as Lewis was definitely different.

"Are you used to all this attention?" she asked casually as they walked hand in hand.

Lewis shrugged nonchalantly. "It's part of the job," he replied. "But it can get overwhelming at times."

Jessy nodded sympathetically, understanding the pressures of fame all too well.

After browsing through several stores and trying on various outfits (with Lewis eagerly giving his opinion), they decided to call it a day and head back to their cars.

"This was fun," Lewis said as they stood outside his car. "We should do it again. I'll have some free time after the race and I would love to hang out with you again, if that's okay."

Jessy returned his smile, saying "That sounds good to me." Interested in spending more time with her, Lewis probed further, asking, "What about next week too? I'll be passing through Los Angeles for a day or two and I could fly you out to join me."

"Really?" she asked, trying to contain her excitement.

Lewis smiled, noticing her reaction. "Yeah, it would be nice to have some company while I'm in LA," he said.

Jessy couldn't believe her luck. "I would love that," she said eagerly. "Thank you for offering."

"It's my pleasure," Lewis replied, his gaze lingering on hers. "I'll make sure you have a great time."

They exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up in Los Angeles the following week.

And as they say, the rest is history

A few weeks later....

"No, Noelle, I'm telling you, it's not like that," Jessy insisted, her voice laden with sternness. She paced back and forth in her expansive apartment, the phone pressed tightly against her ear, as she packed for an upcoming trip. "Noelle, we're just having fun. Plus, he's always surrounded by beautiful women. I doubt I'm anything special to him."

After spending more time with Lewis in Miami and in Los Angeles, he invited her to the Monaco Grand Prix in Monte Carlo. If Jessy played her cards accordingly, Lewis would be wrapped around her finger. Jessy visited Monaco before, yet this would be the trip of a lifetime. Lewis already informed her that they had a day planned sailing on his yacht, so she could only imagine what else was in store for her.

Noelle sighed on the other end of the line. "Jessy, you have to be careful. Lewis sounds charming as fuck, and you know how these things go. He might catch feelings for you, and then what?"

Jessy paused for a moment, considering her friend's warning. Noelle had always been the more cautious one. "I appreciate your concern, but I think we can handle it," she replied confidently. "We're both adults, and we know what we want."

Noelle remained skeptical but decided to drop the subject for now. "Alright, just promise me that you'll keep a level head about this. The media is already speculating about you two hanging out together in Los Angeles, not to mention his fans..."

"Girl, I'm telling you, it isn't anything to worry about," scoffed Jessy. "He just acting like he's that nigga because I gave him head. If anything, he owes me for my services."

Noelle couldn't help but laugh. "Jesenia, girl, you sound like a ho!"

"Shit, a rich one at that," mused Jessy as she looked around her apartment. It may not be the penthouse, but it still had amazing views of the beach and city. Her closet was filled with designer clothes and accessories. She knew she was blessed but always wanted more. And if that meant using Lewis for money and material things, then so be it.

Noelle let out more uncontrollable laughter. "Period, Jessy-poo!" She spoke again, her tone more serious this time. "Okay, but just remember to protect yourself emotionally. It's easy to get caught up in the fantasy and forget that it's all transactional."

"I know, Noelle," Jessy replied, her voice tinged with determination. "I'm on my City Girls shit right now, and I'll be damned if another nigga tries to ruin it."

"If you say so," Noelle sighed, still unconvinced.

With their conversation coming to an end, Jessy hung up the phone and continued packing for her trip to Monaco.

Jessy couldn't believe her luck as she stepped off the private jet and onto the tarmac in Monaco. She was greeted by Lewis's team, who whisked her away to Lewis' homes in Monte Carlo, where she would be staying for the next few days. As soon as she entered the home, a wave of excitement and nervousness washed over her. This was it - her chance to make a lasting impression on Lewis and solidify their arrangement.

But as she looked around at the lavishness of his home, Jessy couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Noelle's words echoed in her mind - reminding her that this was all transactional. She took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts aside. This was an opportunity that many girls dreamed of, and Jessy wasn't going to let it slip away.

That night, Lewis took Jessy out on a lavish dinner date at one of Monaco's finest restaurants, COYA Monte-Carlo. As they made their way through the city, Jessy couldn't help but feel like a million bucks. The streets were lined with luxury cars and high-end boutiques, and the air was filled with excitement for the upcoming race. A couple of paparazzi followed them as they walked, snapping pictures of Lewis and his beautiful companion.

Once they arrived at COYA, Jessy's jaw dropped. The restaurant was even more lavish than she could have imagined - adorned with opulent decor and filled with an elite crowd. Lewis led her inside, where they were quickly ushered to their private table overlooking the harbor.

As they perused the menu, Lewis shared stories about his previous races in Monaco and his love for the city. Jessy listened intently, hanging on to every word he said. She couldn't believe how down-to-earth he seemed despite his fame and success.

"So, tell me more about yourself, Jessy," Lewis said, placing his menu down and giving her his full attention. "How did you get into designing?"

Jessy smiled, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement at the thought of opening up to him. "Well, like I mentioned, I grew up with my mom, sister, and my stepfather," she began. "I've always loved fashion, so I pursued that as a career. But it's tough trying to make it in the fashion industry."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "I can imagine. It takes a lot of talent and hard work to make it big."

"Yeah," Jessy nodded. "But I won't give up on my dreams." She paused for a moment before asking, "What about you? How did you get into racing?"

Lewis chuckled. "It's actually a funny story. My dad was a mechanic and always had cars around the house. When I was eight years old, I asked him if I could drive one of them - just for fun." He shook his head with a laugh. "I ended up crashing into our neighbor's fence."

Jessy couldn't help but laugh along with him. She could picture young Lewis behind the wheel of a car, determined to drive like an adult.

"But my dad saw something in me," Lewis continued. "He started teaching me how to race properly, and from then on, I was hooked."

"That's amazing," Jessy said sincerely. "And now look at you - one of the most successful racers in the world."

Lewis smiled humbly. "I'm grateful for all the opportunities that have come my way."

As soon as the waitress approached, Lewis confidently took charge and ordered their meals, flawlessly selecting both vegan and non-vegan options from the menu. Jessy admired how effortlessly he made decisions for her, and couldn't help but smile at his assertiveness.

"I hope you don't mind," Lewis said, turning to Jessy. "I just wanted to make sure we could try a little bit of everything."

"No, not at all," Jessy replied gratefully as she bit her lower lip. "I find it incredibly attractive."

"Do you now?" Lewis grinned mischievously. "Well then, I'll have to make sure to keep it up."

"Mmm, you definitely should," she whispered seductively.

Their plates arrived quickly, each filled with a delicious array of Latin American dishes that left Jessy speechless. As they ate and talked, it felt like there was no one else in the world but them. They laughed and joked like old friends, and Jessy felt herself starting to let go of her reservations.

Lewis continued to impress Jessy with his knowledge of different cuisines and cultures. She was surprised to learn that he had traveled around the world for races and had developed a love for trying new foods.

"I've always wanted to travel more," Jessy admitted as she took a bite of the broccoli sprouts on her plate.

"Well, maybe you can join me on some of my trips sometime," Lewis suggested with a hopeful smile.

As she swirled her straw in her colorful cocktail, she couldn't help but feel a wave of self-doubt wash over her. "I don't want to be a burden," she said, taking a cautious sip. "What if I distract you or something?"

But Lewis just laughed and shook his head. "Trust me, you won’t be, the company would be nice. It’s just me and my drooling bulldog, Roscoe. And he's not much of a conversationalist." He flashed her a reassuring smile. "You should definitely come if you can."

After a few moments of contemplation, Jessy responded, "I'll need some time to consider that." As much as she wanted to travel with Lewis across different countries, she had to be practical and take into account her business commitments.

Lewis seemed to sense her hesitation and reached for her hand across the table. "Take your time, Jessy. I don't want you to feel pressured into anything."

Following their meal, Lewis chauffeured Jessy around Monaco in a car - showing her all of his favorite spots including the famous Casino de Monte-Carlo and Hotel de Paris Monte-Carlo. Everywhere they went seemed more extravagant than the last.

Sunday morning....

Jessy stepped out of the car, her heart racing with anticipation. The intoxicating scent of high-end perfume and the distant roar of engines overwhelmed her senses. This was her first time at the Monaco Grand Prix, and she couldn't believe that she had been invited by none other than Lewis Hamilton himself.

She made her way towards the entrance of the Paddock Club, and Jessy couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous energy coursing through her veins. She had spent hours fussing over her outfit, wanting to make sure she fit in with the glamorous crowd that frequented this prestigious event.

Her simple yet chic outfit clung to her curves in all the right places, accentuating her natural beauty. Her heels clicked confidently against the pavement as she followed Mercedes' team coordinator, Stephen Lord, whom everyone affectionately called Stevo.

Inside the Paddock Club, the atmosphere was electric. The clinking of champagne glasses mingled with excited chatter as race enthusiasts and high-profile guests mingled around the room. Jessy couldn't help but feel a little out of place. After all, she was just a small business owner and model from Miami.

Stevo guided Jessy to a secluded table in the corner of the upscale club. As they approached, two tall and attractive men stood up to greet them and they smiled at Jessy.

"Alright, here we are Ms. Hart," said Stevo with a kind smile. "Please let me know if you need anything else. Don't forget to check out the Mercedes garage later."

"Thank you, Stevo," Jessy replied, returning his smile. "And please, call me Jessy."

Stevo chuckled at her request before turning to face the two men. "How are you gentlemen doing? Can I get you anything?"

"We're all set, mate," replied the taller man in a deep British accent. His double-breasted pink suit exuded confidence and style, while his friend sported a lavender ensemble with equal flair. After exchanging fist bumps with Stevo, he turned to Jessy with an intrigued expression. "So you're the woman that got my best friend goin' wild."

Jessy couldn't help but chuckle nervously at the attention. "I don't know about all that, but Lewis and I are enjoying each other's company."

"Mmhmm," agreed the other man with a slow nod as he took a delicate sip of his champagne. "My name is Daniel, but everyone calls me Spinz." He extended his free hand for Jessy to shake, and she reciprocated with a firm grip that seemed to surprise him. He jokingly winced at the grip and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl, no wonder Lewis got a liking to you. Grip hard as fuck."

Jessy laughed at the playful comment. "Thank you, I do try."

"And I'm Miles," Mr. Pink Suit smiled. "Lewis told us to watch over you, and make sure you have a good time."

"More like threatened us," added Spinz with an eye roll, eliciting a playful slap on the back from Miles.

Jessy found it amusing that Lewis would feel the need to "threaten" his friends into ensuring her enjoyment at the club. From what she had seen so far, he was nothing but kind and laidback, but perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.

"How about we head upstairs to the Terrace?" Miles suggested.

The group made their way to the Terrace, an exclusive rooftop area of the Paddock Club with breathtaking views of the race track. As they settled into a cozy corner with plush couches and fans to keep them cool, Spinz poured Jessy a glass of champagne.

"So, Jessy," he began, leaning in with a curious expression. "How did you and Lewis meet?"

Jessy took a sip of her drink before answering, pondering about how much she should divulge. "He reached out to me on social media after seeing that I was in Miami around the time of his race. We chatted for a bit and he invited me out for lunch one day."

"Ah, so he slid into your DMs?," teased Spinz with a smirk.

Miles laughed at the comment while Jessy lightheartedly rolled her eyes. "In my defense, I didn't think he actually did; I thought it was a scam."

"Well, I'm glad he did," said Miles sincerely as he clinked his glass against hers.

"Yes, we all are," added Spinz with a grin.

Jessy couldn't help but feel touched by their genuine interest in her relationship with Lewis. They were both clearly very important people in his life and she was grateful that they seemed to accept her without hesitation.

As they continued chatting and getting to know each other, Jessy couldn't ignore the constant glances and whispers from other guests nearby. She had expected some attention being with Lewis Hamilton's friends, but it was starting to make her uncomfortable.

Sensing her discomfort, Miles sent her an assuring glance. "Ignore them, love. They're just jealous."

Jessy smiled gratefully at him before turning her attention back to Spinz who was telling an outrageous story about his latest party antics.

As the conversation carried on into the afternoon, Jessy found herself feeling more and more at ease with Miles and Spinz. They were incredibly funny and easygoing, making it seem like she had known them for years. She couldn't have asked for better company to spend her first Formula One race with.

After Lewis' disappointing loss, the trio made their way to the Mercedes garage to wait for him.

"Hey there, lovebirds," he joked. Despite looking a bit worn out, Lewis still had a smile on his face. "Looks like you guys are having a good time."

"Always," replied Miles with a grin as he and Lewis exchanged a friendly fist bump.

Lewis then walked over to Jessy and wrapped his arms around her. "How's everything going? Did you enjoy yourself?"

His sudden display of affection in front of his friends caught her off guard, but she quickly relaxed into his embrace. Jessy couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness. "Yes, thank you for introducing me to your friends. They're great company. I'm sorry about what happened today, baby."

"I'm glad. And thank you, I needed that," replied Lewis before turning to Miles and Spinz. "Thanks for looking after her, fellas."

"No problem, bro," said Spinz with a laugh. "We'll give you some alone time now."

After some more playful banter, Lewis took Jessy's hand and led her away from the group.

"Where are we going?" asked Jessy as they walked through the busy Mercedes garage.

"Just wanted to show you where all the magic happens," replied Lewis with a wink.

As they strolled through the bustling garage area filled with F1 cars being worked on by mechanics, Jessy felt amazed. She had never been this close to a race car before.

"Wow, this is incredible," she said as she ran her fingers over the sleek and aerodynamic body of the car.

Lewis chuckled. "I knew you'd like it."

He gave her a tour of his car, explaining how everything worked in detail with passion and excitement. Jessy found herself getting swept up in his enthusiasm as he showed her the complex steering wheel and pointed out all the different buttons and switches.

"It's amazing how much goes into it," she said in awe.

"It takes a lot of skill to be able to race one of these babies," replied Lewis with a grin.

Jessy couldn't help but feel proud of him for all that he had accomplished in his racing career. It was clear that he was truly passionate about what he did.

As they continued their walk around the garage, Lewis introduced Jessy to some of his team members and mechanics who all greeted her warmly. She could see why Lewis loved this team so much - they were like a big family.

Eventually, they made their way back to Lewis' home to relax before dinner with his friends.

Suddenly, Jessy yawned and stretched out on the couch, placing her head on Lewis' lap.

"Tired?" asked Lewis with a smile.

"A little," she admitted. "It was a long day, but I don't want to miss dinner.

Lewis chuckled and pulled her closer to him. "Well, how about we take a quick nap before dinner?"

Jessy felt grateful for the chance to rest. As she lay in Lewis' bed, she couldn't help but notice how comfortable and familiar it felt, even though it was her first time visiting his home.

She drifted off to sleep easily, feeling safe and content in Lewis' arms.

When she woke up a couple of hours later, Lewis was lying next to her with his eyes closed. Jessy watched him for a moment, taking in his peaceful expression. She couldn't believe that this handsome and successful man was hers.

At least to some degree, she thought.

Feeling a surge of affection, Jessy gently brushed some braids out of Lewis' face and leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips.

He opened his eyes with a smile and pulled her closer for a deeper kiss. "Hey there," he said huskily as they broke apart.

"Hi," replied Jessy with a grin. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," said Lewis as he caressed her cheek. "I'm glad you did."

He pulled her in for another kiss and as it deepened, Jessy felt Lewis' hands begin to explore her body, gently caressing her shoulders and neck, then slowly moving downward, tracing the curve of her back.

In response, she leaned into him, arching her back slightly, inviting him to continue. Lewis' fingers gripped the fabric of her top, pulling it up and over her head ever so slightly, revealing her smooth skin. His touch sent shivers down Jessy's spine, igniting a fire inside her. She couldn't help but let out a soft moan as their lips continued to move in sync.

Breaking the kiss, Lewis looked into Jessy's eyes with a hunger that made her heart race. Without saying a word, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, tossing it aside.

Jessy's skin flushed with heat as Lewis took in the sight of her bare chest. He leaned down and began kissing and nibbling on her breasts, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Her hands found their way to his shirt, tugging at it impatiently. In one swift motion, Lewis removed his shirt and threw it across the room.

Their bodies pressed against each other as they explored each other's skin with their hands and lips. Jessy could feel Lewis' arousal against her thigh and she couldn't resist running her hand down his chest to feel him fully.

With a low groan, Lewis pulled back slightly and looked into Jessy's eyes again. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes, baby," she affirmed, guiding him onto his back. Jessy helped ease him out of his pants and underwear before eagerly tending to him.

Although she had been intimate with Lewis before, he always waited for her signal before proceeding to anything sexual. It was a sweet gesture that showed his respect and consideration for her comfort. But sometimes, Jessy just wanted to jump his bones without hesitation.

Grasping firmly, just as he preferred, Jessy's hand enveloped his throbbing member as her mouth engulfed him. With a slow and steady rhythm, Jessy expertly pleased Lewis, teasing with her tongue and cleaning any traces of pre-ejaculation. Lewis' grip on her head tightened as he guided her movements to match his own pace.

Jessy could feel the tension building in Lewis' body as she continued to pleasure him. Her own arousal was growing with each moan and gasp coming from his lips. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter..

But before he could reach his peak, Lewis pulled her up to him and flipped them over so that he was on top. He hovered above her, his eyes burning with desire.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone. Jessy's breath hitched as his lips found their way to her sweet spot, biting and sucking at that place until she was writhing beneath him.

With one fluid motion, Lewis removed the rest of their clothes and positioned himself between Jessy's legs. He looked into her eyes once more, seeking permission and reassurance.

"Yes," she breathed, arching her hips towards him.

And with that, he entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size. Their bodies moved together in sync as they reached new levels of pleasure together.

Lewis' movements became more urgent as they both neared their climax. His hand reached between them to rub Jessy's clit, causing her back to arch in a bow and her to coo his name in ecstasy. With a loud cry, they both came undone, riding out their orgasms together.

Exhausted and sweaty, Lewis cuddled up to Jessy and drifted into a deep slumber. Satisfied with their encounter, Jessy grinned to herself and as soon as she heard his familiar snores, she got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

Jessy did her usual after-sex routine: relieving her bladder, brushing her teeth, and taking a Plan B pill that she always kept in her toiletries bag for these situations.

She and Lewis had previously discussed their sexual activities in Los Angeles, and despite both being clean and Jessy being on birth control, she was still cautious enough to take precautions.

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, Jessy took in her mussed, thoroughly fucked appearance. Judging by the way Lewis laid that pipe and him falling to sleep soon afterward, she knew that her plan had fallen perfectly into place.

And now, she was going to make sure he gave her everything she wanted.

Hook, line, and sinker.

TO BE CONTINUED....

#emjayewrites #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #formula one x oc #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one #lewis hamilton #the fast lane #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x you

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wavesmp3 · 4 months

Text

[csc] ode to you

inspired by 'daisy jones & the six'

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader (gn) genre: band au, strangers to lovers, angst wc: 13.7k warnings: cursing, heavy alcohol usage and often in an unhealthy way, one mention of blood (a terrible case of largely irrelevant side characters, an attempt at writing song lyrics, switching pov’s without any real indication, story existing in a vacuum of time and space loosely based off of 70s usa)

synopsis → The Numbers are a band well on their way to commercial success with Seungcheol as the dreamy front man, Soonyoung on drums, Joshua on guitar, Minghao on bass, and Junhui on keys. But all that changes the second you step into the studio to record “Begin Again” with them. The song is an instant hit, launching you from a singer-songwriter nobody to the biggest new name in music and catapulting the Numbers into a larger limelight than they’ve ever been in before. So with the entire country singing your song, the pressure is on for you and the Numbers to create an entire album that lives up to their expectations. But while pressure builds, something akin to feelings for the front man builds with it.

You go to knock again on the door, heavy footsteps and heavier breaths, but just as soon as your knuckles make contact with the heavy wood, the door swings open.

Jihoon looks disappointed. “You were going to knock again, weren’t you?”

You roll your eyes, pushing him aside and going straight for the marble bar cart you know sits in the sitting room off the formal dining area.

“You know you really have to work on your patience.” He says to you from the foyer, voice already sounding a bit far away. You always forget how big acclaimed-music-producer Woozi's house is. Although, you think, staring at the array of top shelf liquor arranged neatly on the bar cart, mansion is probably a more apt word for it.

You pour yourself a glass of whiskey.

Jihoon joins you in the room once you’ve already taken a seat in one of the brown leather arm chairs.

“How many glasses is that?”

You scoff. “I have a show at the Roxy after this.”

He hums, flicking the square paper in his hand.

You sit up slightly. “What is that?” Jihoon takes the paper over to the record player in the opposite corner of the room. He slips a clean black record out of the manilla slip and carefully places it into position. It doesn’t take long for the gentle hum of the record spinning around the platter to fill the room.

God, I love music. You think to yourself sitting back slightly in the armchair and allowing your eyes to shut.

“I want you to listen to this.” You hear Jihoon say, followed by the small pop of the decanter being opened and the quiet trickle and crack of liquor falling over ice. The sound of a bass overtakes the room. It’s somehow… gentle.

“Who’s it by?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer at first. You hear him sit down in the armchair next to yours while drums fill in the spaces of the songs and a guitar starts to hum along. And the sound that comes from the record player next–in all honesty, you don’t think Jihoon could have prepared you for. It’s a man’s voice, polished, in a way that you just know he’s been doing this for a while. His whole life maybe. There’s this rough, almost growly quality that amps the song up even more, and yet, simultaneously, his voice glides over the lyrics like honey spilling over the side of its jar. There’s so much depth in every note he hits. You don’t know if you’ve ever heard a voice–a sound–quite like this.

“Who is this?” You ask again once the first chorus comes to a close, opening your eyes and taking a proper look at Jihoon. He looks mildly amused.

“Have you heard of the Numbers?”

Seungcheol hurries into the studio from the car, guitar in one hand and lyrics in the other, fully expecting to get chewed out by his producer. “Jihoon, I’m so sorry. There was tra-”

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. The control room is empty. He steps back into the doorway and rereads the signage. He has the right room, so then… where is everybody?

“Seungcheol,” he hears a voice call for him from the recording stage. It’s Soonyoung, waving him inside and pointing at you. You smile at him, give him a nod of sorts. His eyes dart to Jihoon, giving him a look that says, who the fuck is that?

He walks into the recording booth hesitantly.

“Hey.” Jihoon says casually. “I don’t think you guys have met yet.”

You stand and approach him, sticking out your hand. Seungcheol just looks at it.

“The label thinks you guys would sound good on one track and want you to try recording ‘Begin Again’ together.”

He ignores your outstretched hand and looks straight at Jihoon. “Can we speak privately?”

—

Seungcheol had assumed he’d be the one getting chewed out in the studio today. Oh, how things have changed. He’s worked so hard on this song. More time and effort than he’s ever put in any of the band’s songs that came out before it. He can’t believe Jihoon would allow anyone else to try and taint it. “Begin Again” is his song. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the only one singing it.

Seungcheol’s ready to say all of this, but, “Before you say anything,” Jihoon doesn’t even let him speak, “I know how you feel about this. But the decision came from above me, okay. The Number’s last album didn’t do as well as the label hoped. They think another voice in the band could shake things up. And who knows, “Jihoon continues with a shrug that only makes Seungcheol fume more, “maybe this could be what you guys have been missing.”

Seungcheol cannot believe what he’s hearing. “We aren’t missing anything.”

“Don’t be dense.” Jihoon pans with a sideways stare. “I know you guys are good. I know you guys are gonna be big, but the rest of the world needs some convincing. Just try this, okay? This could be it.”

Seungcheol just shakes his head.

“I scouted them out myself. They’re a good singer and even better writer-”

“Writer?” Seungcheol nearly screams, arms flying to point at you through the control room window where the two boys are talking. “You want them to write on the song too?”

“They have a couple of…” Jihoon sighs, choosing his next word with extra precaution, “revisions.”

“Fuck that, Jihoon. I wrote a great song. It–”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You wrote a good song.” Jihoon refutes, matter-of-factly. “You wrote a good song, and they,” he points at you, “they made it a great one.”

Seungcheol is speechless.

“Here.” Jihoon pushes a piece of torn notebook paper into his hands.

If Seungcheol wasn’t so aware of the line Jihoon was drawing, he would’ve pushed harder, but at the end of the day, Jihoon is his boss and his lifeline in this business. If Jihoon says so, really says so, then there’s not much Seungcheol can do to fight it. Seungcheol is stubborn, but he’s not a fool looking to waste his own breath. He looks back into the recording stage. The band looks happy chatting to each other. And you, well, you’re staring at him.

A red light flashes on the sound board beneath him. “Talk over the changes.” Jihoon says to the band and you through the intercom. “We record in ten minutes.”

—

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say to Seungcheol sitting on the stool in front of the second mic. Seungcheol’s never even seen a studio setup with two mics before. He swallows a scoff. “Jihoon showed me the song the other day, and your voice it—“

“What does this line mean?” Seungcheol cuts in, taking his seat on the stool next to yours. “I changed my heart. I morphed my mind. You don’t have the right to tell me I didn’t try.”

Your face drops immediately. “Are you serious?”

Seungcheol raises a brow–a challenge.

You let out a breath of pure disbelief, focusing your gaze just above his head, and hands starting to make motions in the air. “It’s about changing yourself to be with someone. It’s about them never acknowledging that.”

“That’s not what this song is about.”

You give him a pointed look. “What do you think the song is about?”

It’s his turn for the disbelief. “What do I think the song I wrote is about?” You don’t falter, not even for a second. Seungcheol grasps at the words, mouth agape. “It’s about redemption.”

“That’s too easy.”

“How is that too easy?”

“Look,” you huff, mouth opening and closing like you can’t decide what it is you want to say. You end up reaching your arm out, palm open like you want a fucking hi-five or something. In the back of his mind, Seungcheol wonders if you’re still waiting for the handshake he never gave. “Give me your original lyrics.”

He does, you snatch the paper keeping your eyes on him for a second too long before finding whatever it was that you were looking for. “Right here,” you say, finger pointing at the tattered paper and eyes darting back and forth between him and his lyrics. Your face lights up. You look like you're holding back a smile. You look… excited. “Here, in the bridge you wrote: take me home, welcome me on those familiar roads, embrace me in your arms, oh please, tell me I still belong.”

“What about it?” Seungcheol asks, almost forgetting that he’s upset at Jihoon for this whole arrangement, nearly forgetting that he’s supposed to not be accepting any of your revisions because for the first time in so long, he’s able to really talk to someone about his lyrics.

You look up at him fully, and almost sadly, you say, “You really don’t get it, do you?” Seungcheol looks down at the lyrics you gave him, scanning them again. Funnily enough, that line is the only one of his you’ve kept.

“The song’s not about redemption,” you tell him. “It’s about guilt.”

—

Seungcheol, you, and the band end up recording your version of the song. It’s a good song. It’s still his melody, his hook, and his bridge, but almost none of the lyrics are his. Just like that, “Begin Again” becomes as much your song as it is his. If he wasn’t so angry at Jihoon, maybe he would’ve had the mind to notice how good you sound singing it.

Choi Seungcheol is an asshole.

That you learned in the recording studio with him and haven’t been able to get out of your head since. Unfortunately, he’s got one hell of a voice and gift for creating a good melody. And him and Jihoon together in the studio, god, they’re magic. You went out and purchased The Number’s previous record after you recorded “Begin Again”. You haven’t stopped listening to it since.

It’s one day when you’re working a shift at the diner that you start humming the song playing over the speaker while grabbing an order from the kitchen. You don’t even think twice about it. That is until you make it right in front of the table whose orders you’re holding and start to hear your own voice.

You nearly drop the four plates of burgers.

You rush over to the jukebox, not believing your ears, not believing that your voice, your words, your song is playing for the entire diner to hear.

And there, right at the bottom it reads: “Begin Again” by the Numbers ft. you

“Holy shit.”

The desert wasn’t too far from home, but it could not have been more different. There was so much nothing for as far as your eyes could see. There was dust everywhere, all over the place, sifting up through the air and in your lungs. How are you supposed to sing like this?

You hear the bands’ voices come up from behind you.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, coming up next to you and resting an arm on the same wood railing as you. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.” You answer truthfully. You could barely believe it when you got the call from Jihoon saying that they wanted you to play the festival along with the Numbers. Although, considering that your song is playing on every radio station, it probably shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was.

The crowd roars as the previous artist says his goodbye.

“Have you ever played for a crowd like this?”

“Nope.”

He nods slowly. “It’s a lot. The first time especially, for sure. But just go with it, and uh,” he smiles, towards the ground, “it’s a lot of fun once you get past the nerves of it all.”

You look at him, battling against the grimace forming on your face. “Is this pep talk for me or for you? Cause I’m fine.”

His smile disappears when he sees your face. You must’ve lost the battle.

He inhales sharply. “‘Begin Again’ is last. Come out after I introduce you.”

You nod, and he joins the rest of his band.

The crowd cheers when they get on stage. The first song starts with a familiar guitar riff and the pound of the drums, followed by the crowd going ballistic. You’ve been playing on stage for a while now, but only ever in small clubs with small crowds. You’ve never seen a crowd like this, and it makes you ecstatic.

You hear Seungcheol sing the final words of the song and Junhui play the final chords. And you don’t know if its the crowd or the shot of vodka you took during the bridge or the fucking look Seungcheol gives you, but something, something, makes you forget what Seungcheol said about waiting and walk right onto that stage.

Joshua and Minghao look confused. Seungcheol looks vaguely pissed. Junhui and Soonyoung barely notice. But you don’t register any of that. All you can think as you walk onto that stage, grin flashing and arms up in the air is: this crowd was fucking waiting for me.

You step up to your mic and wait until the crowd quiets down. You introduce “Begin Again” as a song you wrote. The crowd erupts. You look over at Seungcheol, smiling, no–grinning, loving how annoyed he looks. Minghao doesn’t miss a beat, starting the song immediately. Your body moves on its own, dancing to the song, belting out each note, and loving every second of it. It’s sometime during the second verse, the one Seungcheol sings alone, that you notice how entranced he is. His eyes are half closed, and his fingers fly across his guitar like he’s not even thinking about it. He smiles at the crowd. You think you hear someone faint. He looks your way then, right before the pre-chorus, smiling still as if he wasn’t just glaring at you. It hits you almost instantly: nothing else matters to him right now. He’s in it, like really in it, and the only thing he seems to care about is putting on a good show. He’s loving this as much as you are, and maybe that’s enough to prove that you and Choi Seungcheol are more alike than either of you think.

You leave your mic stand and start dancing towards him. His entire body turns towards you, waiting for you, his eyes following. You meet right in front of his mic just as the chorus begins. And you’re left with no choice but to stand next to him, singing into the same mic with your faces so close you can feel every ragged breath he takes, see the sweat rolling off his hair, and hear the blood pumping through his veins. Take me home. You both sing with your entire chest. Welcome me on those familiar roads. You see him turn his head to face you. You mirror the motion, and sing the next line looking right into his eyes. Embrace me in your arms. Have his eyes always been this big? Oh please, tell me I still belong. And of course it’s this line you’re singing to each other like this. Of course it’s the one line in the entire song that you didn’t actually write and the one line he did.

The chorus ends, and you slowly back away from his mic and move back towards yours. He rips away on his guitar, fingers still flying like it’s the easiest thing, all while never taking his eyes off you. Staring at you like he found something. Staring at you like it’s only you and him on that stage.

You don’t even remember the song ending.

Music flows through Northside Tavern. A jazz band is playing today, and the piano player keeps making eyes at you.

“I heard the show over the weekend went well.” Jihoon says into your ear. You just nod. “And that the label really liked what you did with the song.”

You laugh. “Not just the label. The whole country liked it.” You give one last look to the pianist, before turning to Jihoon fully. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I have a number one single.”

You head over to the bar and ask for an old-fashioned.

“Not just you.” Jihoon yells behind you to be heard over the cheers after the band’s last song.

You pivot. “Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t just you.” Jihoon flags down the bartender, orders a scotch, neat. “It was the Numbers too.”

The bartender slides over three drinks.

You lean in over the counter. “We only ordered two.”

Wordlessly, the bartender points to the other side of the bar. The piano player holds up their drink. Jihoon grabs his drink, and you grab the remaining two. You lift them both up towards the pianist who gives you a rather charming smile, and then take a simultaneous sip from the straws of both drinks. You taste your old-fashioned and what seems to be a margarita.

You and Jihoon make your way over to a booth.

“What I wanted to say,” Jihoon continues, “is that the label likes you with the band, and they want you to make an album with them.”

“An album?” You suck in your bottom lip, feeling a sudden rush from all the alcohol. An album is exactly what you’ve been pushing and working so damn hard for. So then why does this feel bittersweet?

“I think this is going to be a good thing.” Jihoon tells you sincerely, eyes softening. “You and Seungcheol…” he hesitates for a moment. You hate when he chooses his words like this, picking out the bad ones and testing out all the others. But perhaps you only hate it so much because you lack the ability to do it yourself. “You guys work.”

You take another long double sip of your drinks, squinting at Jihoon skeptically. “What did Seungcheol say?”

Jihoon’s mouth parts. There. There it fucking is. Running your tongue over your top set of teeth, you say, “you haven’t asked him yet, have you?”

“No, we haven’t asked him yet–”

“I can’t believe this.”

“–but the rest of the band is already on board, and we all thought it’d be smarter if you agreed before we asked him.”

You tilt your head slightly. You thought Jihoon knew you better than this. “I’m not saying anything until he does.”

“Be honest with yourself here,” Jihoon says seriously, pushing his drink to the side and leaning forward, “it’s no secret that you and Seungcheol don’t get along. And I get it; I really do. But I know you see it.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “See what?”

“Most people in this business spend their entire lives looking for what he and you found during the ‘Begin Again’ sessions and again on the stage at the festival. And most people fail. Don’t throw that away over whatever bullshit he gave you when you first met. Don’t throw away the chance you’ve been waiting for because of that. You guys belong together. Focus on that.”

You don’t say anything after Jihoon finishes his little speech. Instead you reach for your drinks and finish them both in one long, prolonged sip. You ignore his annoyed ‘tsk’.

Putting the empty glasses down and to the side, you nod up at him, pursing your lips. “Are you done?”

He takes a long, final swig of his drink. “Yes.”

“Ask Seungcheol first.” You pull out your wallet and drop a couple bills on the table. “Then, you can call me.”

Today is already off to a bad start.

Seungcheol had come into the studio ready to record and knock out at least 2 or 3 songs off the album today, but then Minghao wanted to talk about the album’s direction and Soonyoung wanted to request everyone to add as many drum parts as possible.

And it’s as he’s listening to Junhui and Soonyoung argue about the addition of piano solos, that you walk into the studio.

Jihoon welcomes you with a hug. Hansol, the sound engineer, offers to make you tea. Meanwhile, Seungcheol can’t understand why you deserve any kindness at this moment. Your session started an hour ago.

“You’re late.” Seungcheol says, bringing the rest of the band to notice your arrival.

You look at him with a smile, gesturing to the two boys who were just arguing. “Doesn’t really look like I missed anything.”

“We were talking about the album’s direction.” Minghao says from behind Seungcheol.

You nod, putting down your stuff and taking a seat. “Okay, shoot.”

Seungcheol puts his hands up. “Well since we’re talking about it. I’ve been working on a couple songs, and,” he hesitates, pulling out a couple sheets of paper that Jihoon helped him print and handing them out, “I think I might have something good that we can build the rest of the album off of.”

Everyone takes a moment to read. Seungcheol watches the room carefully. Joshua clears his throat. Junhui plays a loose note.

Your voice is the first that comes out of the silence. “Are you serious?”

He whips his head around. “What?”

“‘Will you still love me when I’m old? Will you still love me when I’m proud.’” You read aloud, before shoving the paper back towards him, that mocking smile still plastered on your face. “I’m not singing that.”

He scoffs, tongue swiping at his lips. “Why not? They’re good songs.”

You shrug. “They’re cheesy.”

“You haven't even read the whole thing.”

“I’ve read enough.”

“Are–are you… is this–I mean, like, you…” Seungcheol only knows one thing for sure right now: you might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. “Jihoon!”

“Okay, you know what,” Jihoon’s voice comes through the intercom. You both turn towards it. “How about you two go home and figure out some way to work together instead of wasting my studio time. Write one song, just one, together, and the rest of us can go from there tomorrow.”

He slips a curse between a breath.

“Okay?”

You and Seungcheol look back at each other. It’s you who speaks first this time. “That’s fine with me.”

—

It’s a nice day out today. The sun shines through big clouds. There’s a nice breeze, and the roadways are empty. You’re sitting in the passenger seat humming something he can’t hear over the wind while Seungcheol drives. In all honesty, he doesn’t even know where he’s heading, but it might be the first time he's felt some semblance of peace with you around.

The announcer on the radio station introduces the next song. Seungcheol turns it up and sings alongside Kim Mingyu’s voice. You stop humming.

“You like this song?” You ask.

He quickly glances at you. “Yeah, who doesn’t.” The song was insanely popular a year or two ago. If you didn’t like it at first, you heard it enough on the radio and in every store until you did. Although, it doesn’t actually take anyone very many listens to fall in love with it. Unfortunately, the rest of Kim Mingyu’s songs never quite lived up to this one.

“I wrote this song.” You say to him, as if it’s the most simple thing.

“Oh, really?” Seungcheol replies with a chuckle. “You worked with Kim Mingyu?”

“Well, not all of it, but the melody and most of the lyrics, yes.” You tell him seriously, like you haven’t even registered that he thought you were joking. “I mean, worked is a strong word, but we did date for a bit.”

Seungcheol stops at a red light and spends it staring you in disbelief.

“Come on,” you say after a moment, “you really think Kim Mingyu wrote this song?”

Seungcheol listens to it again: They could never get it out of their heads. Like a scene on repeat. Like a mountain falling. Something unforgettable, but forgotten still. Something like you. Someone like me.

And instantly, it clicks–of course you wrote this song. Of course it’s the case that Kim Mingyu’s best song and one of Seungcheol’s favorites was written by none other than you.

He looks over at you while at another light. Your head leans back against the car seat, and your arm hangs over the edge of the open window. You don’t look like you’re enjoying listening to the song even if you are the one that wrote it. In fact, you look mildly annoyed, nose scrunched while inspecting your nail beds, teeth grinding.

Seungcheol changes the station thinking: why’d you let him take it?

Before he can really think about it any further, you sit up in your seat and point at the next light.

“Turn right up there. I know a place.”

—

When you had said that you knew a place, Seungcheol imagined that it’d be a coffee shop or an empty bar or anything other than the middle of the woods sitting on the rocks along a stream.

Although, he must give you credit: the setting you’ve taken him to is beautiful. There are birds humming and life strumming all around you. The water is a blistering blue that glistens and shines in the sunlight streaming through the trees like a million coins falling from the sky. The water has a small current running through it, and it beats against the rocks lightly, like the lightest, most gentle drum beat. The breeze is nice and cool on Seungcheol’s skin, sifting through his hair and past his limbs. And maybe the best part is how all around him, on every single side, he’s surrounded by green.

It would have been perfect, if not for the fact that you and him have been here for two hours and still have absolutely nothing.

“Okay,” you relent, after he turns down another one of your ideas for a song, “how about this melody?”

You start humming one of the worst melodies Seungcheol’s ever heard in his life.

“Absolutely not.”

You grunt frustrated, arms falling through the air. Your head follows suit, settling in your hands, face buried from his view.

“Why’d you even say yes to this?” You snap, looking up at him after a moment, brows furrowed and hands gesturing vaguely in the air. “If you have no intention of taking any idea I give you seriously, why did you say yes to this?”

“I didn’t.” Seungcheol reminds you. “Neither of us did. Jihoon kicked us out of the studio.”

“I don’t mean that.” You flare. “I mean letting me in to do this album with the Numbers. Why’d you agree to it?”

There’s a change in the wind. A sudden quietness that must be attributed to some insect dying. Seungcheol hadn’t expected you to ask this. He hadn’t even expected you to think it.

“It wasn’t…” he starts, looking for the words in the space between you and him. He looks up at you, hoping to find them there. Instead he finds hope in them.

Seungcheol has been in this exact spot before–sitting in front of someone that wants to believe in him and is asking him to give them a reason. He’s seen this before, and he has no interest in repeating his past mistakes. He sees no need to add you to the list of people he’s disappointed. With a short laugh, he says, “You know what, let’s just get back to writing.”

“Fuck that.” You respond immediately, grabbing at his guitar.

“What are you–”

“No. Fuck that.” You repeat, successfully pushing his guitar off his lap. “If this is going to work, you have to at least pretend like you trust me. Song writing isn’t just strumming on your guitar all day and hoping for the best. It’s vulnerability, and it’s pouring your heart and soul and life into something and praying that someone out there feels the same way. That’s what ‘Begin Again’ was. And every single person who listened and liked that song and every single person who sang with us at the festival is saying that they feel the same way. So, what are you so afraid of? Why do you feel like you can’t trust me?”

Seungcheol gulps. “Which question should I answer first?”

You inhale slowly. “The latter.”

Seungcheol just shakes his head. “I don’t know you.”

“Ask me then.” You say desperately, like it should have been obvious to him, “whatever it is that you want to know just ask it.”

Seungcheol nods. In truth, there’s a million questions he wants to ask you about everything, but at this moment, all those questions sink to the bottom of his mind and only one rises to the top and travels to the tip of his tongue. “Why’d you let Kim Mingyu take credit for that song?”

You lean back slightly at his questions. Looking away from him and towards the murky waters before answering. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t always like this.” You tell him, laughing lightly. “I used to let guys like you walk all over me.”

His heart jumps into his throat. He’s barely able to choke out a, “guys like me?”

You nod, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Guys who don’t believe that I have what it takes.”

“I never said that.”

“But you showed me.”

“When?”

You look at him then, squinting. He hopes what you see is genuineness. He asked the question sincerely. “When you were so quick and ready to dismiss my changes to the lyrics during the ‘Begin Again’ takes. When you let me join your band on this album, and then expected me to sing an entire record full of songs that mean nothing to me. I’m a songwriter, Seungcheol. It’s the one thing about me that no one can take.”

Something between intrigue and malice slips in behind his tongue. “So what can people take?”

You shake your head, smiling ever so slightly. “My turn. What are you so afraid of?”

Seungcheol inhales sharply. “Well, I’m afraid of dying and of heights and–”

“Stop that.” You cut in, like you really mean it. “Why are you so afraid to say what you really think?”

He sucks in his bottom lip, shrugging. “‘Begin Again’ was your song more than it was mine. What if people don’t like what I have to say? What if they can’t relate and just think I’m fucked up and crazy?”

Your eyes soften, and your smile lines deepen. It takes a moment for him to register that you're smiling, really smiling, at him. He’s never known a smile could feel so inviting.

“But what if they do?”

Seungcheol takes a moment to think about what you’ve said. And in that moment, whatever insect had died gets resurrected, returning to nature’s hum, filling his ears. Seungcheol looks all around him. The hum of life, the beat of water, the tune of leaves falling. He’s surrounded not just by nature and greenery, but also by music. And it’s erupting from every corner of these woods.

His eyes finally land on you.

“I think I found our melody.”

When you come into the studio the next day, the song is done. You went to sleep humming it still and running through the lyrics over and over again in your head.

“Let us sing it for you first,” Seungcheol suggests to the rest of the band with Jihoon listening in from the control room. “And whenever you feel like you got it, just hop in with what you think works, and we can refine and shape it from there.”

You watch the rest of the band as Seungcheol explains it. Minghao looks shocked, but excited. Soonyoung looks proud. And you can’t really read what the other two are thinking.

“Jihoon, are we good?” Seungcheol asks, turning around to the window into the control room.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Jihoon replies, voice filtering in through the intercom. You nod. Seungcheol nods. The rest of the band nods. Jihoon presses a couple buttons and says, “This is ‘Can You See Me’.”

Seungcheol starts playing the chords he found yesterday. You’re not sure why or how but it reminds you of those woods. His voice starts singing the first line of the song. You close your eyes and take it in. You join him for the chorus, singing alongside his voice feeling the words flow. It’s Junhui that joins you two first, playing a couple loose notes, testing things out. By the end of the chorus, he’s found it, playing a little more confidently and adding a whole new level of depth to the song. A depth that makes you feel like you’ve only ever known two colors your whole life and in a matter of seconds Junhui added in a third. Joshua joins in next, as your voice takes over for the second verse, playing off what Seungcheol was playing but making it his own. Seungcheol goes over to where Soonyoung’s sitting and says something to him in his ear. Soonyoung nods. Seungcheol goes over to Minghao, but Minghao shakes his head, already starting to play something. Seungcheol heads back to his mic right before the second chorus starts. You turn and sing the last line of the pre-chorus to him

And I know that you never trusted me.

He joins you for the chorus, singing back.

Can you see me standing from there? And can you see the blood on my hands? If I give you all of the parts to my heart, Will you care that I’ve been scarred and stitched up?

Soonyoung starts playing then, the drums filling in the last thing the song needed. You listen to the rest of the band play and marvel at how insanely talented they all are to pick up and play something that actually works after only a minute of hearing it. The song needs polishing, yes, but it’s got a good sound and it’s heading in the right direction.

You don’t take your eyes off Seungcheol, and he doesn’t take his eyes off you. And for the remainder of the song, you sing to each other.

The song ends. The last one playing is Junhui. And for a couple seconds, no one says anything.

It’s Jihoon’s voice that comes out of the silence first. “I’m a fucking genius.”

You smile at Seungcheol. He smiles back.

After recording and polishing ‘Can You See Me’, you and Seungcheol fall into a song-making rhythm of sorts.

(We don’t always have it perfect.)

“I feel like this lyric in ‘Puzzle Pieces’ doesn’t fit.” You say to Seungcheol, before muttering the lyric outloud. “It’s too shy. I don’t know. I just think it’s missing the mark a little bit, don’t you think?”

Seungcheol groans tiredly. “God, I can’t think about this anymore. Can we take a break? Go get some food or something?”

“Yes, but before we do, do you think ‘I see us standing in the distance’ or ‘I see you standing in the distance’ works better here?”

Seungcheol just stands ignoring your question and muttering ‘no’ repeatedly.

You follow, running after him and begging him to listen.

(Boy, do we fight.)

“I think there should be more drums in the hook.” Seungcheol announces after the third run through.

“Why?”

His eyes widen, sarcastically. “Because there should be.”

“Don’t do that.” You scoff, used to his antics. “Answer the question: why?”

He sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “It’s missing something. The song still feels empty. I mean, the lyrics allude to a love that’s blooming and growing between two individuals, but nothing behind the lyrics build up with it. There’s almost a disconnect between the words and the music.”

“I disagree.”

He scoffs. “All that for–”

“I think it works just fine without the drums, and if you add the drums it’ll become more suspenseful. The song is supposed to feel like falling.”

He shakes his head. “It’s supposed to feel like butterflies.”

“It’s supposed to feel like peace.”

(Sometimes you win.)

“Let’s vote.” Seungcheol suggests. “If you’re for the drums, raise your hand.”

Only Soonyoung (the drummer), does.

(Sometimes you lose.)

Jihoon presses the red button on the sound board, announcing to the recording stage, “Take 3 of Aurora. Seungcheol, try softening your voice a little for this one.”

“Jihoon, can we just try one take with me in it?” You ask him. “I think even if I were just singing a harmony or in the background of the bridge, it would add so much.”

“No.” Jihoon says, scribbling something down in his notebook. “I’m with Seungcheol on this one.”

“Jihoon, you haven’t even heard my–”

“This song doesn’t need your voice.”

(But sometimes, we get it just right and fit like the last two puzzle pieces.)

“No,” you say, shaking your head as Joshua and Minghao finish off the last chords of the song, “It needs to sound murkier.”

Joshua, Junhui, Soonyoung, and Minghao just stare at you blankly.

“Less cymbals, Soonyoung.” Seungcheol says over the speaker from the control room. “And Minghao, ride out the low tones more.”

You turn and see him. He catches your eyes, smiling slightly, reassuring you. Like he gets you.

From behind you, you hear Junhui lightheartedly mutter, “since when do they have their own language?”

Joshua and Soonyoung laugh, but you barely notice because you see him. You see the way his brows furrow when he’s thinking. You see the way he sticks out his tongue when he’s focused. You see all of it.

And for a moment, he sees you. All of you. And he doesn’t turn away from it.

Today’s songwriting session quickly turned into a field trip from the studio to grab food which then turned into you leading Seungcheol’s car to the beach. You and Seungcheol sit on a stone ledge, right where the sand begins, 20 paces away from the ocean. Between you sits leftover fries and your untouched song notebook. You watch the sun dip into the sea and listen to the waves crash over and over again. The wind pushes furiously, tossing his hair to the side and pushes his head away from it. It just so happens that away from the wind means towards you.

“So,” you begin, popping a fry in your mouth and dusting the salt off your hands, “when are you going to answer my question of why you let me in the band?”

Seungcheol figured this question was coming. He’s been avoiding answering it. “You really want to know?”

You look at him sincerely. “Yes.”

Seungcheol looks out to the water. “After our first album, Jihoon prepared a tour for us. It was this tiny tour, not even big enough for a tour manager. We played in the smallest venues with okay-sized crowds. I mean, it was barely a tour, really more of a way to get our name out there. And after the northern leg of it, I…” Seungcheol closes his eyes and sees moments from that tour flash behind his lids: strobe lights, bodies in bed, empty glasses, and negative pockets. Sometimes memories can feel like nightmares. “I was just in a really, really, bad place. By the time we were halfway down the east coast, I was barely even able to play. Jihoon saved me then. He saved my fucking life. But he had to cancel the rest of the tour in that process. The rest of the band, man, they couldn’t even stand the sight of my face. Minghao especially. It was Jihoon who ended up being the one to convince them to let me back in. I owe Jihoon my entire livelihood and my life. So when he asked what I thought about you joining the band for this album and when I saw how badly he wanted it to happen, I owed it to him to say yes.”

It’s been so long since he’s recounted that story, even to himself. It doesn’t hurt as much as it once did. That knowledge surprises him.

“Where are you now?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his head.

He turns to you. “What?”

“If you were in a bad place then, where are you now?”

The wind quiets for a moment; he feels a warmth overtake him in its absence. “Someplace better.”

He looks down, not even noticing the smile growing on his face, and catches sight of your notebook. He points at it, asking, “may I?”

You look down at it as well, grabbing another fry. “Sure.”

He flips through the pages of your notebook. The first half isn’t even songs. It’s snippets, words, singular sentences taking up an entire page. It’s only halfway through the book that it actually turns into something that could be called songwriting. He asks you about it.

“Ah, that’s when I met Jihoon.” You tell him, smiling fondly. Seungcheol puts the notebook down and waits for you to explain. “Before him, I had songs, but they weren’t real songs, you know? They were just some combination of all the snippets and sentences I had written down. But then Jihoon heard me play at the Eastern, and said that I had a good voice. He asked if he could give me his card so that we could talk more, and I said that I wasn’t interested in people who only saw me for my voice and walked away.”

“You’re insane.” Seungcheol mutters, baffled. He remembers the chance encounter he had with Jihoon right after he and the band moved down here to make a name for themselves. He remembers how hard he begged for the same chance Jihoon offered to you so simply. “So, how’d you end up working with him then?”

“He found me again at the diner I used to work at after that. I told him I still wasn’t interested, and he asked if I had written the song I played that night at the Eastern. I said yes, and he said that he was only interested in my voice because my songs weren’t there yet.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “So he’s always been an asshole then?”

“Oh yeah.” You nod, mirroring the sound. “He was an asshole about it, but he was right. And it was the first time that someone believed in me enough to think that I could be better. That is what made me want to try and write a song that would make him see that I’m as good of a songwriter as I am a singer. I spent a lot of time working and got out one good song. I sang it all across the strip. He finally saw me play again at Ben’s Garage. I let him sign me after that.”

“What was that song about?”

Your lips do this half frown thing that makes Seungcheol want to peer inside your brain and figure out exactly where it came from. “It was about what all songs are about.”

“Which is?”

You look at him like it’s obvious. “Love.”

It feels like a shot of sunlight through his veins.

Seungcheol drives you back home after the beach. You had gotten nothing done in terms of the album, but you felt happy, and you felt free. You watch him from the corner of your eye. You’ve only known each other for some months now, but it feels like so much longer. You’ve told him more about yourself and your past than anyone else you’ve met in your adult life. You’ve told him your deepest worries and darkest secrets, and he never turned away from you, not once. Instead he took your insecurities and turned them into beautiful melodies. He turned all your doubts into celebrations of hope. And he did it for you.

Suddenly, it no longer feels like you only met him when you recorded ‘Begin Again’ together. Suddenly, it feels like you’ve known him since you were a teenager and like you’ve been in love with him ever since. Your palms start to sweat. Your heart sinks past your lungs. Is it all those goddamn fries or him that’s making your stomach turn?

He turns onto your street. This is it, you think to yourself. This is everything I’ve been waiting for.

He walks you to your door, and you stand facing each other on your porch.

“This was nice.” You tell him, taking another step towards him.

“It was.” He mumbles, a lazy smile on his face.

You take another step towards him. He doesn’t move back. His mouth parts. You watch his lips, trace them with your gaze. You think about what it would feel like to kiss them.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” The words come flying out of your mouth involuntarily. You barely register that you’ve said them. They didn’t come from your mind but from a tiny spot deep in your gut where the urge to take another step towards him lies. You give into that urge without thinking twice about it. You’re closer to him than you’ve been in months. The last time you were this close being that moment on stage during the ‘Begin Again’ performance. You’re surprised you remember that. His breaths then were ragged, uneven. His breaths now are barely there, like he isn’t even breathing. You can smell the mint he popped in his mouth when you left from the beach. You can smell whatever perfume he must’ve sprayed on his neck this morning.

And you’re so wholly aware of the fact that his eyes are looking at your lips.

He turns away from you and glances at your door, saying, “I should go.”

You feel something in your chest sink and sink and sink.

“I’ll see you in the studio tomorrow.” He continues. “We still gotta help Junhui figure out his part for ‘Puzzle Pieces’.”

And with that he’s off, and you’re left standing on the porch alone wondering how someone can look at you like that and then just leave. You look down by your feet and see your heart sitting there, next to your shoes. You leave it there and head it inside.

The next day, Jihoon cancels your studio time without explanation and reschedules you and the band for the following day.

When that day finally does come, Seungcheol doesn’t show up on time to help you and Junhui figure out the right notes to play for the song you wrote together like he said. Instead, he stumbles into the studio late with a song in his hand wearing the same clothes he wore with you at the beach. And that alone, feels like a betrayal of some sort.

“What’s it about?” Joshua asks.

He looks around the room, excited. “It’s about my new partner.”

You feel the urge to vomit all over the recording stage.

—

Jeonghan, it turns out, is Seungcheol’s partner’s name. Seungcheol had brought him into the studio a week after they started dating, and he’s been coming routinely ever since. As much as you hate it and as much as it makes your heart bend and break, Seungcheol looks really, genuinely happy with him. You wonder if he ever looked like that with you.

You really wish you hated Jeonghan, but you don’t. He’s actually quite nice and gets along with the whole band so easily. He even makes friends with Jihoon. You thought he might be a distraction to Seungcheol while writing and recording, but Seungcheol is more focused and productive and creative than ever. The song he wrote right after meeting him is good, like stupidly good. There isn’t a single word in it that needs changing.

With your help, Seungcheol writes another song about him, called ‘Light of My Life.’ It’s while writing that song that you find out that Jeonghan was never a stranger, and that day after the beach was not their first meeting. It’s Soonyoung who tells you how Jeonghan is from their hometown and how Seungcheol and Jeonghan used to date.

The day that you record ‘Light of My Life’ Jeonghan is also in the studio, sitting in the control room and laughing at something with Hansol.

You light up my life even when it’s dark. You both sing together. It’s an acoustic song; only Joshua stands behind you guys strumming the chords on his guitar. The rest of the band didn’t even come in today. You color my world even when I’m feeling blue. You glance over at Seungcheol. He isn’t looking your way. He’s looking at Jeonghan through the control room window. When I’m with you, I never feel alone. You think about the times when he used to look at you while recording. When you hold me, baby, I feel at home. Jeonghan looks back at Seungcheol. It hits you how beautiful he is, with his dyed silver hair and slender face. You don’t blame Seungcheol for writing such a beautiful song about him. You don’t blame yourself for helping him. I can’t believe this has happened to me. Seungcheol wrote this song for Jeonghan, but he wasn’t the only writer on this song. Right before the next line, Seungcheol finally finally turns and looks at you. I feel alive because of you.

Seungcheol turns back to the control room, and for the rest of the song, you wonder that if Seungcheol wrote this song for Jeonghan, who the hell did you write this song for?

—

A tune comes to you while you drive home that night. You scribble down a couple lyrics in your notebook as soon as you walk through your door.

Silver hair. Silver skin. Sliver of my heart you took with him.

Joshua throws a party that weekend. A housewarming for the house he bought with the ‘Begin Again’ checks. Stepping in through the foyer, you question whether you should be buying a house too. You forget that thought by the time you reach the drinks table.

After your hellos to the rest of the band and all the small talk with people Joshua wanted to introduce you to, you end up standing alone in his backyard, sloshing around the dark liquid in your cup. Truthfully, you’ve barely left your apartment all week. You hadn’t been in the mood for a party. But it’s nice out here. The air is fresh and crisp. The lights, which Soonyoung and Minghao enthusiastically and drunkenly told you they helped put up, are warm but not too bright. You imagine you’ll stay out here for the rest of the party.

“Hi,” you hear a voice say from behind you. You turn around only to find Jeonghan. You hope your face doesn’t betray you when you greet him back. “What are you doing out here?”

You gulp down a bitter sip of your drink. “Just wanted some quiet.”

“Same. Junhui started doing karaoke again.”

“Oof.” You groan sympathetically. “Already?”

He just nods with a laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen all of them.”

You like Jeonghan. You really do. It’s just taken you until now to realize that you don’t really know him apart from small talk in the studio and the two songs Seungcheol wrote about him. “When did you move down here from your guys’ hometown?”

“Oh.” His chin juts out a bit. “I moved down with the band actually.”

You don’t hide the surprise on your face.

“I take it no one told you that then.” Jeonghan chuckles darkly. You shake your head. “Uh, well, yeah,” he continues, shoving his free hand into his pocket, “Seungcheol and I started dating right when the band formed. I used to do the photography for them. And when they proposed moving out here, I thought I ought to come with. And I did.” He gulps his drink. “It was good for a while. Really fun in the beginning. But then I got my job taking pictures for the paper, and they were doing the album. And well,” he looks at you like you already know what he’s about to say. You don’t. “It already wasn’t really working anymore by the time the album was finished. And then they went on tour…”

He leaves that part blank. But based on what you heard from Seungcheol about that first tour, you can piece together what might’ve happened. You question whether Jeonghan left that empty to spare Seungcheol or to spare himself. Then you question how he knew you knew about it.

“Oh.” Is all you say. You don’t ask about when they encountered each other again. You don’t want to hear it.

“You know,” Jeonghan begins again, “I actually used to watch you play at the Tabernacle.”

You groan immediately. You only ever played at the Tabernacle when you first started. You cringe thinking about what you might’ve sang on stage in front of him. “Oh my god. I’m so embarrassed to even think about those days.”

“No! Don’t be!” He reassures, kindly. “You were really good. I especially liked that one song that went like… The days were wide open, as far as the eye could see.”

Your heart nearly soars straight out of your body. You had forgotten about this song. You used to love it dearly. You join Seungcheol’s boyfriend for the second line.

The world was mine to take, but I’ve never been good at accepting things.

“You and the band together,” Jeonghan says a moment after you both stop singing, “it’s magical, don’t get me wrong, but that song,” he smiles at you, “it’s a damn good song.”

You can’t help but smile back. “Thank you.”

“Cheol showed me a couple of the songs from the album.” Jeonghan mentions, and it instantly and heartbreakingly reminds you who you’re talking to. You hate that he has a nickname for him. “They’re amazing.” You look at him. He seems genuine. “They’re so good and real and raw that it almost makes me wonder…” his voice tapers off, losing the sound to a small exhale that appears as if it was meant to be a laugh, “Nevermind.”

“What?” You poke, instinctively leaning in towards him.

He meets your eyes, creases running along his forehead and frown lines more prominent than ever. “It almost makes me wonder if there was something between you both.”

You swallow, pointing at your chest. Your voice comes out raspy without you meaning for it to. “Me and Seungcheol?”

He nods. “Yeah, I mean the lyrics in ‘Begin Again’—“

“That song’s not about me. Or about him.” You defend. “We didn’t even know each other when we wrote that.”

“What about ‘Can You See Me’?”

Your breath catches. Truthfully, you answer, “I don’t know what that song’s about.”

—

When you get home that night, you finish the song you started writing about Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

When you breathe in his lips, do you think of mine? What kind of songs were we making? Were they all lies?

“What’s it called?” The question comes from Soonyoung.

You look up from the paper in your hands filled with the lyrics you had completed over the weekend and after Joshua’s party. You notice he looks sad. You turn your gaze to Minghao. You can’t really tell what he’s thinking in that moment.

“Uhm–I don’t know. I haven’t thought of a title yet.”

Seungcheol walks in then. “What are you guys talking about?” He asks, setting down his stuff. Then, more to himself than to you guys, he murmurs, “And where are Junhui and Josh?”

Soonyoung and Minghao don’t say anything. Instead, when Seungcheol asks what you’re doing, they both look at you. You imagine even if Junhui and Joshua were here, they’d do the same. Have you really been this transparent? At what point did they put together all the pieces?

You hand Seungcheol the song. You have no idea what his reaction will be.

He just nods, like he has no idea what the song is about. Like he doesn’t see his name and Jeonghan’s scribbled in the margins.

“Call it ‘Silver Lies’.” He says.

Minghao makes a noise. “Call it ‘Silver Linings’.”

“Vote on it?” Seungcheol proposes.

“No.” You look at Minghao. He stares back at you. Something unspoken lies in the space between. “We’ll call it ‘Silver Linings’.”

A party rages around you. Flashing teeth and flashing lights. Another drink, another riff. You don’t even know where you are right now. You remember coming home after working on ‘Silver Linings’; you remember wanting to forget your own mind. This is the only way you know how.

You don’t even know how long it’s been.

This is what you do know: You’re sitting by a pool. Your feet are wet. You haven’t been this drunk since your 18th birthday. Choi Seungcheol is standing across the pool from you.

Your face breaks out in a smile. Sober you will regret that. Sober you will also regret how your first thought is that he looks beautiful. You’ll regret the fact that you finally, drunkenly but honestly, admit to yourself how pretty you think he is, how you’ve thought so since your first time hearing him sing, and how you’ve been so painfully aware of it ever since.

You let yourself fall in the water. Head sinking for a moment, before breaking the surface again. Floating on your back, you start humming the melody to ‘Silver Linings’ in your head.

Silver hair. Silver skin. Sliver of my heart you took with him.

You can’t tell if it’s the chlorine or something more pathetic that burns the corner of your eyes and runs down the side of your cheeks.

You feel something tug on your arm. The sudden jolt makes you lose your balance, falling beneath the water. You’re so fucking wasted you forget if you even know how to swim; you almost forget to not breathe.

You feel a pair of arms pull you up and hold your head above the surface. You know who they belong to. It strikes you in the back of your mind that this is the first time you’ve been touched by him. So maybe that’s why you relish in the feel of his arms around your waist and the way his hand grips at your hip.

He looks at you like you’re filth. Just as all your partners before him did. First they’re sweet and charming, but it always ends like this. In their arms, simultaneously wanting to be far away and fighting the urge to beg: love me, please.

Even if he wasn’t your partner, even if all he was was a hope and a ‘what if’.

You barely even register it when you say, “you're just like the rest of them.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He rages back, not even acknowledging what you said.

“Nothing.” You tell him, smiling, wishing like hell that you believed it.

“You missed our studio time. We were supposed to record ‘Silver Linings’.” He fumes at you. “Do you know what time it is? Do you even know what day it is?”

“Do you know how much of a fucking mood kill you can be?” You bite back.

“What are you on?” He looks repulsed. You hate it. Hate the way that you showed him your whole heart and that he still looks at you like this.

Seething, you say, “What do you think?”

And that—that is what breaks him. What makes him lose his shit and start screaming.

“Jihoon is fuming at us!”

You barely notice it. Instead, you repeat in your head the words to the one song you truly, wholeheartedly wrote for him.

“The record label isn’t going to let this slide, you do realize that, don’t you?”

When you breathe in his lips, do you think of mine?

“You wasted an entire day of recording!”

What kind of songs were we making?

“No.” You say finally, voice coming out quiet. It sounds so misplaced and so wrong next to all the yelling between you two. “We wasted so much more than that.”

Were they all lies?

For the first time since you’ve seen him tonight, he doesn’t say anything back. He just stares at you, like he can see straight through. The party continues all around you. It never stopped. It never quieted down. And yet, it somehow feels like you and him are the only ones in this pool. Like you’re stuck in time. Like you’ve created your own world with him and that’s where you’ve retreated to now.

“Was any of it real?” You ask before you can stop the words. You hate how pathetic you sound. You hate how desperate it all is.

All he says before leaving you in the water alone is: “I’m with Jeonghan now.”

He splashes water in your face on his way out.

When Seungcheol walks into the studio, you’re already there, talking with Jihoon and someone else he doesn’t recognize.

“Hello.” He says cautiously to the group.

The man says hi back. You don’t look at him. Jihoon is the one that finally explains.

“Seungcheol, hey, this is Wonwoo. He’s from the paper, The Stones, and he’s going to be doing a piece on the band and the creation of the album. It’ll be an inside look into the process of making an album and a bit about the band itself.”

“Hey, man,” Seungcheol greets properly, extending his hand to shake. Wonwoo fumbles with a place to set down the pen and notebook in his hand for a second, before shaking it. Seungcheol doesn’t miss the way you scoff under your breath. “Wonwoo, right?” The reporter nods. “Anything you want us to do for you or for the piece?”

“No. Not at all.” He shakes his head profusely. “Just keep working on the album as you would normally. I might pop in here and there with questions, but other than that, it’ll be like I’m not even here.”

Seungcheol smiles brightly. “Well, you’re in for a treat today because we have a song to record.”

For the first time that day and for the first time since that night in the pool, you look at him. “No, we don’t.” He wonders if you remember that night, what you said to him, what he said back.

“Actually,” he reaches into his bag and pulls out a piece of paper he’s been working on for the past two days. He hands it to you. “We do.”

You read the lyrics silently for a moment, then frowning, you read them aloud. “I’m used to making games out of broken hearts. Silly me for trying to play around with yours.”

Wonwoo makes a noise. “Damn. I wonder who that’s about.”

You snap, whipping back around to Wonwoo. “What happened to ‘it’ll be like I’m not even here’?”

He mutters an apology and quickly scribbles something down in his notebook. You turn back to Seungcheol. “I’m not singing that.”

He ignores you and looks at Jihoon. “Let me see the song.”

You extend the paper out to him without taking your eyes off of Seungcheol. In Jihoon’s defense, he’s been working the hardest to keep the peace as early as when you recorded ‘Being Again’ together. Nonetheless, your face still morphs from hurt to angry. Seungcheol doesn’t blame you, but he also doesn’t really give a fuck.

Jihoon, sounding more exhausted than Seungcheol has ever heard him sound before, only sighs. “How about we just try the song?”

—

Recording first starts with the instrumentals. The rest of the band recording their parts exactly as Seungcheol heard it in his head.

Finally, with the rest of it recorded, he focuses on vocals.

He only wants you singing it.

“Take one of...” Jihoon starts, speaking through the intercom. “What’s it called again?”

Seungcheol answers: “‘We Are Not Done.’”

You’re the only one in the recording stage. Seungcheol sits in the control room with Jihoon, Hansol, and Wonwoo. The rest of the band is either home, in the lobby, or behind him in the control room. Seungcheol’s already demonstrated for you the general beat of the lyrics against the instrumental. You still hold the lyrics up behind the mic, brows furrowed at them.

“Pour me a drink I–for all…” Normally, you’re a picture of confidence in the recording studio, but your first attempt to sing the song is an absolute train wreck.

Seungcheol reaches over Jihoon’s shoulder and presses the red button. “Cut. What’s going on?”

You look through the window, exasperated. “I don’t get it. The words, they just–”

“It’s–Pour me a drink for all the fools made out of me.” Seungcheol demonstrates again. “I can’t live with myself half past 12–and it’s just like that for this whole verse.” He waits a moment. “Good?”

You stare at the lyrics, brows still scrunched together. “Yea.”

“Okay. Take two.”

You sing: “Pour me a drink for all the fools made out of me.” Your voice is timid, almost. Seungcheol’s never heard you sound or act anything close to timid before. “I can’t live with myself half past 12.”

“Cut.” Seungcheol stops you again. “You have to sound larger than life singing, like you don’t care if people see how fucked up you are.”

“Excuse me?” You nearly scream at him.

“I’m talking about the song.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Take 3.”

You look mad now. At least that will be closer to what Seungcheol wants. “Pour me a drink for all the fools made out of me.”

“Cut.” Seungcheol can see you biting your tongue. “Sing it looser. Less restrained. Don’t worry about hitting the notes. Take 4.”

“Pour me a drink for all the fools–”

“Cut.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Even looser. Take 5.”

“Pour me a drink f–”

“Cut. Let your voice get ‘ugly’. Take 6.”

“Pour me–”

“Cut!”

—

(Wonwoo’s interview with Seungcheol)

Wonwoo: So, Seungcheol, I remember there being an impossible number of takes for the track ‘We Are Not Done’, specifically for the vocals. In the end, How’d you get them to sing like… that?

Seungcheol: Sometimes all it takes is a little push

—

(Wonwoo’s interview with you)

Wonwoo: ‘We Are Not Done’ is such a force of nature. How’d you end up singing it like that?”

You: Well, let’s just say that Seungcheol is really good at what he does.

Wonwoo: And what does he do?

You: He inspires.

—

The red light flashes again. “Take 32.”

The only thought you have when the blue recording light turns back on is that you fucking hate Choi Seungcheol, but you still want him and you hate that he knows that.

The track starts.

Pour me a drink for all the fools made out of me. I can’t live with myself half past 12. I’m used to making games out of broken hearts. Silly me for trying to play around with yours. I know you’re with someone new, But is that really true If you’re still thinking of my kiss and my tongue? I’m your wildest dream. I’m your best nightmare. You and me, baby, we are not done.

You’re beyond pissed driving home from the studio that day.

The first fucking day with the reporter and Seungcheol chose to make you look like an idiot. He chose to make you sing that song with Wonwoo sitting behind, taking it all in.

Not to mention that that was the first time you’ve seen him since he showed up at the party while you were trying to get over him the only way you know how. When he held you in his arms, made you feel so stupidly warm, and then left with someone else’s name on his lips.

You hate Seungcheol. Maybe joining the band wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth him.

Your vision goes red and all you can think is: isn’t he over this yet? Aren’t I?

Suddenly, there’s a bang. A puff of smoke. The airbag releases. Your entire body clenches, lurching forward and then back again harshly.

A crash, you register belatedly, staring at the hood of your car folded up like a piece of paper.

Paper.

You dig inside your glove box for your notebook and shove your hand in the space between the passenger seat and the center console to find a pen.

“What the fuck?” The man from the car you hit screams, stepping out of his car.

You ignore it. A song, you had it just then. You had it.

“You hit me!” He yells again, getting closer.

Your pen hits the paper, and it doesn’t stop until the song is on it. Not even when you notice blood drip. Not even when the man starts banging on your window.

Is it over now? Do you have the guts? To call it quits, baby, Say I’ve had enough. Is it over now? Can we say the words? I used to love you, Now I’m not sure.

(Wonwoo’s interview with you)

Wonwoo: What’s it been like working with the band? From ‘Begin Again’ to now?”

You: Oh, well, ‘Begin Again’ was a totally different story. I wasn’t really part of the group or anything. I was more just an outsider that Jihoon and the label had brought in. I changed up most of the lyrics, but the song was never really mine. I think it’s taken me a while to realize that. But, now, I mean, working on the album together couldn’t be more different. Seungcheol and I co-write almost all of the songs. It’s been a much more collaborative project compared to ‘Begin Again’. It’s been exhausting and tiring and life-consuming, but um, it’s been a lot of fun.

Wonwoo: So, going back a bit, if you rewrote all of the lyrics to ‘Begin Again’, how is it not your song?

You: Seungcheol already had some lyrics written for that song. I was just the one to figure out what he was really trying to say with them.

Wonwoo: Hm

Wonwoo: So what’s it been like working with Seungcheol?

You: Well, it definitely wasn’t easy at first.

Wonwoo: Why not?

You: I think we were both just used to writing alone. We learned a lot in those first couple writing sessions, and I think we’ve both grown a lot since then.

Wonwoo: What’d you learn?

You: We’re very similar people. We think about love very similarly. We have fought the same battles, and we’re both able to turn our pain and struggling into something beautiful.

Wonwoo: How would you describe you and Seungcheol’s personal relationship?

You: What do you mean?

Wonwoo: Friends, lovers, enemies, etc.

You: We have chemistry, but

You:

You: But I think that to write together there has to be love. What else would all the songs be about?

Wonwoo: Is that what ‘Can You See Me’ is about? Love?

You: That’s for each listener to figure out for themselves.

Wonwoo: You also said that you co-wrote most of the songs with Seungcheol.

You: Yes.

Wonwoo: So, did you guys co-write ‘We Are Not Done’ and ‘Is It Over Now?’?

You:

Wonwoo: No need to go into details if you’re not comfortable. I’m only really looking for a yes or a no.

You: It–

You: It’s not as simple as a yes or a no.

—

(Wonwoo’s interview with Seungcheol)

Wonwoo: What’s it been like working with someone else for the song writing on this album?

Seungcheol: It’s been hard. There’s a lot of push and pull for each word in each song, but I think at the end of the day, we’ve been able to put together an almost complete record of songs that we’re both proud of.

Wonwoo: It’s been said that the two of you have chemistry–

Seungcheol: Who said that?

Wonwoo: –do you agree with that?

Seungcheol:

Seungcheol: It’s not what you think.

Wonwoo:

Seungcheol: Look, whatever chemistry people think there is between us, I mean, it–it’s for the music and for the songs, not for each other.

Wonwoo: Are you saying it’s all fake?

Seungcheol: No, but it’s not real life either.

Wonwoo: So you guys fabricated some of it to sell records?

Seungcheol: I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.

Wonwoo: Which is what?

Seungcheol: That there’s something between us romantically. There isn’t.

Wonwoo: Not even a little bit?

Seungcheol: Not even once.

The photo shoot for the album they decided should be in the desert. You’re not really sure why. Probably something to do with the desert show where you and the band first played together. You didn’t have a choice in the matter. If you did, you would have suggested the opposite. Maybe something on the shore. Nonetheless, you let them tell you where to sit and exactly how to do it.

The photographers look between each other after each flash of light in your face. Thank god they aren’t actors. You can read on their faces how much they hate each photo taken.

“You know what,” the head photographer says to the band, “let’s just take 5.”

You’re up immediately, walking away from the weird set they’ve put together and heading straight to the snack table. You say hi to Jeonghan standing there with a camera around his neck.

“Did the paper send you or did you come with Seungcheol?” You ask lightheartedly, picking at some grapes.

He laughs, fiddling with the lens. “No, not the paper. I just like to bring my camera with me sometimes. Plus,” he adds with a far off smile, looking up the hill at Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao talking, “reminds me of the old days.”

You look up past those three to where Soonyoung and Seungcheol are laughing at something you wish you were privy to. “I get that.”

“Actually, Seungcheol and I wanted to talk to you.” He says. His lips look pressed, eyes bright, fighting a smile but also fighting something else far beneath that. “Once the album wraps, we’re, uh, we’re gonna get married.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I know. It was his idea, but I’m really excited about it too.” He tells you, abashedly. “We’re gonna keep it small, I think. Do it back in our hometown so that our families can be there and everything. I think most of the band is gonna travel back too to be there, and, uh, I know it would mean a lot to both of us if you were there too.”

You look at Jeonghan. You don’t really think he’s lying about the last part, but that still doesn’t make it any easier for you to swallow. “I don’t really know if that’s a good idea.”

“I do.” Jeonghan doesn’t falter. It reminds you of you before Seungcheol. You wonder where that version of you went. After a moment, his face softens, lips turning down a bit, but eyes looking as kind and as big as ever. You notice that his hair isn’t silver anymore.

“I know that it’s complicated between you and Seungcheol. And I’m not going to act like I get it because I don’t. But I like you and I know he loves you. If not for anything, then for this.” Jeonghan gestures to the shitty set they prepared. You look at it, chuckling. It’s shitty, yes. But Jeonghan’s right. This must’ve cost the label a fuck ton of money. “He and the band wouldn’t have any of this if not for you. You did that for them.”

You turn back to Jeonghan. Genuinely, you tell him, “Thank you.”

You open your arms to him. He welcomes it, hugging you back. You exhale. You can barely remember the last time you did.

“Congratulations, Jeonghan.” You feel him grin.

“Please come.” He requests.

You don’t know if you will. But you do know that you’re happy for him.

—

The next round of photos are no better than the last. You hope at least Jeonghan, who’s moved on to taking pictures of the scenery, is having a better shoot day than the label-hired photographers.

You find Seungcheol again during the next break, standing in the back at the top most part of the hill, sun shining down directly behind his head.

“Hey.” He says to you, not casually but not maliciously either.

You stop in front of him, just staring. Without you even meaning to, you frown. Seungcheol must notice. He tilts his head. “What’s up?”

You inhale sharply. “You’re getting married.”

His mouth opens, then closes. “I’m getting married.”

You shake your head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-it never..” He stops trying to find the words. You find that as more of an answer than anything he could’ve said. “I’m sorry.”

“Take me home.” You recite, thinking of the first window you ever had into Seungcheol’s heart. “Welcome me on those familiar roads. Embrace me in your arms. Oh please, tell me I still belong. It was always about him, wasn’t it?”

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything. You know him too well to think he would. Instead, he sucks in his bottom lip and turns his gaze to the ground. You bend your neck to see his face, see his red eyes. This is the only time you’ll have him like this again. This is it.

The only thing you have left to say to him is: “I hope you’re happy.”

—

When you go home that night, you drink yourself past consciousness. It’s only when you wake up with a pounding head the next morning do you see the song sitting next to you, written in sloppy, drunken handwriting.

Tell me was it worth all the pain Tell me would you do it over again Tell me was it worth the lights and your name Tell me was it worth the sound of my shame Tell me was it worth the album and the songs That I only sang thinking they were about us Tell me some it was true, not in my head Did we only kiss to sound how you wanted?

I know I’m not yours But let me your wildest dream You think of again On a bad night After a bad fight

(Wonwoo’s interview with you)

Wonwoo: Who wrote the last song on the album: ‘Not Yours’?

You: I did.

Wonwoo: When?

You: Right after the album cover shoot.

Wonwoo: What inspired it?

You: Well

You: I think that song had been singing in my heart for a while before I finally wrote it.

—

(Wonwoo’s interview with Seungcheol)

Wonwoo: ‘Not Yours’ is such a heart-breaking song. What was it like recording it?

Seungcheol: Believe it or not, it was one of the easiest.

(Wonwoo’s interview with Jeonghan)

Wonwoo: It’s nice to finally meet you.

Jeonghan: You too. If I can be honest, I really didn’t expect to be called about this piece.

Wonwoo: Oh

Wonwoo: I just like to get all sides of it.

Jeonghan: Okay.

Wonwoo: I wanted to talk to you about the album photo shoot.

Jeonghan: Oh yeah of course.

Wonwoo: From my understanding, the picture that was chosen as the cover, was one that you took. Is that correct?

Jeonghan: Yeah. I took it during one of the breaks.

Jeonghan: I mean props to the photography team that was hired, I’m sure they’re amazing, but it wasn’t hard to tell that they were really struggling to photograph the band.

Jeonghan: I just happened to have my camera on me, and you know, I had photographed the band in the past, so I just kind of knew what to look for. And when I saw Seungcheol and them go off to the side to talk, my eyes just happened to follow them. And

Jeonghan: Well, I don’t know what they were talking about, but you can see it in the photo, you know?

Jeonghan: They’re looking at each other like it’s a very important conversion. And well, let’s just say that I know Seungcheol very well, and he’s never been a good actor, so it must have been. And, and the sky is so blue and so clear behind them which, I don’t know, to me sort of represents how there’s nothing coming between them in this moment either. There’s nothing that isn’t being said.

Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: When I saw that, I just knew I had to capture it.

Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: I had no idea that Jihoon would want to use it for the album cover. I wasn’t thinking like that.

Wonwoo: Was it weird at all?

Jeonghan: How so?

Wonwoo: To capture a picture of your finance and his bandmate looking at each other like that?

(Wonwoo’s interview with Jihoon)

Wonwoo: So does the album have a name?

Jihoon: Yeah. Of course.

Jihoon: Aurora

Wonwoo: Can you tell me anything about the band maybe going on tour?

Jihoon: Well, can’t say anything for sure yet, but there’s definitely been some talk from the label about it.

Wonwoo: If there were to be a tour, are you able to give us a sneak peek as to what it’ll be like?

Jihoon: Hmm

Jihoon: Did you happen to see the band play the festival in the desert?

Wonwoo: No, I did not.

Jihoon: Well, I’ll tell you what anyone who saw that show would say.

Wonwoo: Which is?

Jihoon: Get ready for the best fucking show of your life.

(Wonwoo’s interview with you)

Wonwoo: I heard most of the band is heading back to their hometown for the break.

You: Yeah, they are.

Wonwoo: Do you plan on joining them?

You: No.

You: I don’t think I will.

Wonwoo: What do you plan to do during your time off?

You: Well, I bought a one way ticket to Italy, so that should start something. Maybe I’ll go to Nepal or Japan or Brazil after that. I haven’t really decided yet.

Wonwoo: So, traveling.

You: Yeah, I guess.

You: Can you believe that the festival show we did is the farthest I’ve ever been from home?

You: It’s time I saw a little more of the world.

Wonwoo: The fans are really looking forward to a tour. Can you speak to when you will be coming back?

You:

You: Who’s to say I will?

179 notes · View notes

volo-omnia · 8 months

Text

Pokemon Legends Arceus is about Home and what it means to create a Home, change my mind (a mini essay)

Main series titles in the Pokemon series tend to follow themes and explorations of them. With mythology and tradition from Gold/Silver, our relationship to nature in Ruby/Sapphire, truth vs ideals in Black and White, and even the reoccurring themes of treasure and past vs future in Scarlet and Violet.

While PLA is a new departure from most series titles, it still explores a bunch of themes that are central to its story. While the land of ancient Hisui is partial to old traditions, divine gods, and the endless wild, several characters in the game have a recurring theme surrounding on the idea of "Home". This could be how "home" is defined, how one creates a home, and what it means to lose one.

One of the foremost examples of this is you, the player. While we know nothing of the player character outside of what is shown in the intro sequence and possible dialogue choices, the prompt of PLA is obvious. You were taken from your home by Arceus to be dropped into Hisui. Whatever life you had before, you will never come back to. And upon waking up on the beach that Laventon finds you, you have little to no memory, no money, no pokemon, and no where to go.

You have no home.

Now for the player character while it can be interpreted or headcanon a variety of possibilities, (such as the player character being the same player character from D/P/Pt) because it's a player character and meant to be a blank slate, we essentially don't know anything about the hero canonically outside of this. For all intents and purposes the hero has no home to begin with. But there is one thing we know. By the end of the game when you finally meet and defeat Arceus, he doesn't send us back home. We remain in Hisui. Once again, we cannot return to the home we came to. Hisui is our forever home now, but the choice is ours whether we accept or reject it.

This theme occurs a lot with the other characters of the game, to which we will be going through them.

One of the first characters in this game that also hits with this theme is Commander Kamado. Throughout the game it is specifically described as to how his character game to be. His home in Kanto was destroyed by wild pokemon, to which he and the other villagers had to immigrate to Hisui. Upon landing at Prelude Beach, they build Jubilife Village, a haven with large protective gates and guards always on patrol, ensuring security. It's their home, and Kamado repeatedly tells you throughout the game how he's determined to build a home for the village and himself. Even when the skies turn blood red and he banishes you into the wilds, he's determined to fight tooth and nail to protect his home.

This is one of the more obvious examples. Kamado has no home to return to. But in doing so with perseverance, he creates a new one. Even though Hisui is quite different from his old home in Kanto, he does settle with creating a new home, one that is safe, prospering, and peaceful. But when his home is threatened, he does not go back down to protect it.

A home is something you build.

Another similar example of this is the dynamic of Adaman and Irida. Their clans too migrated from other lands to Hisui, eventually settling on the land and living with the local pokemon. From their eyes, a home is something you must share and work together with. Even though they both warred over their patron gods, both the young clan leaders are determined to create a home that is peaceful and without bloodshed between them. However since this is the age of religious folks, insulting one's household deity is also akin to insulting one's home.

To some, a god is a home.

Later in the game we also encounter Lady Cogita. She like most, has no home. While Hisui is the land she has lived in for many years, her original home is long lost to time. As one of the Celestica, all of her people and culture have long disappeared, her god gone, and her old home now reduced to ruins scattered across the land. While she does reside in the Ancient Retreat, was it ever truly her home? That given her long life, does she ever miss the home she once had, and still vividly remembers? Is a home a home if you have no one to share it with? Does she ever feel homesick for her god that no longer answers her? She is a character with many mysteries to her, but you can't help but wonder what burdens could be going through her mind. The deities of time and space may have created the land, but is it the same as creating a home?

And most of all we cannot forget Volo. Your rival, nemesis, and literary foil. Unlike the others, he has no home, but has no home to return to either. Like Cogita, he too has lost all of his Celestica roots. However unlike Cogita, it's unknown whether he actually knows what their home was like before. Since we don't know canonically if Volo was alive at the same time as Cogita, we can assume he came long after the ruin of the Celestica, as he regularly questions her on the myths and traditions of a culture he isn't familiar with. He is a character that was born without a home, and tries desperately to pick up its pieces by ancient stories and writings on ruin walls. He also desperately yearns for his household god, as Arceus has long disappeared in the eyes of the world along with the Celestica.

Volo, as a character, is defined by his homesickness.

However unlike the hero, Volo refuses to accept Hisui as his home. As we all know at the end of the game when Volo reveals his true colors, he mentions that he wishes to subjugate Arceus to create a new world. In a desperate attempt to create a home he can finally accept, his wish is to create one with the powers of his god, and have pain and suffering be long-forgotten concepts. What makes Volo the villain in this scenario however, is that in order to complete this goal, it will destroy the homes of everyone else. In a grand act of selfishness, Volo is willing to destroy the homes of others in order to create his own. A home is something he is willing to destroy.

Overall throughout the game, the theme of what makes a "home" is repeated. Whether it be characters losing their home, characters trying to build a home, or characters trying to simply find a home. And as you play the game, the world around the hero changes. As humans and pokemon start to work together, their lives and homes start to become intertwined, creating a new life for everyone around them.

All lives touch other lives to create something anew and alive. That is a home.

#pokemon legends arceus #pla #pokemon dppt #volo #adaman #irida #cogita #kamado #legends arceus #text #this idea came to me in a vision (the shower)#and i had to write this all down right now or else i'll. explode

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mushroomwoods · 8 months

Text

fear(less)

After a few months of travelling together it was only to be expected that they would catch onto your little habits, especially if it was one that put you in harms way so many times.

characters — Chain, romantic or platonic (platonic only!Wind)

warnings — gore&blood, !depiction of deep wounds!, canon-typical violence, reader is reckless™ and has no sense of self-preservation, a sliver of harmful thoughts (sky!time!), poorly described battles; mild angst with comfort (hyrule!), hints of player!au.

Wow, i finally finished this thing, took me longer than i thought. Anyways, there are a few parts that don't really follow the game line of battle, as I've adapted some things just... because i thought it'd be fun, but i hope you guys enjoy it all the same. Also tagging the dearest @cloudninetonine, didn't know which blog you would prefer so i used the one more related to LU, i hope it is up to your standards, Cloud. also, i said twi part was long? you can't wait to see legend's then.

At first it wasn't anything too eye catching.

The heroes already knew you were... hopeless when it came to fighting, the few experiences in combat you had beside them proved as much, and they didn't mind it, you helped them enough around the camp, always eager to do something when it was possible.

And while they did train you enough to at least hold out on your own in urgent cases, they didn't expect you to become a seasoned warrior like most of them, you had no need or obligation to, after all, not being bound by duty like them.

However, a few experiences in battle were enough to prove them, that yes, your less than ideal choices, were, against all odds, made rationally.

Timeʼ

It was an oversight.

A terribly, horrid, oversight.

One that, goddess fobid, could've costed your life, as you full on charged at the monster trapping him under it's claw, sending both you and the shadow beast toppling over, a disorienting groan falling from your lips as you crashed onto the floor, barely escaping the clawed hands that reached out for you, your unsteady dominant hand, trying to grip hard enough at the hilt of your sword so you could finally, finally, thrust it into the dizzying mark in it's chest.

And then, as it lifted, ready to pounce back into your form, you got the chance to see it's weakness, barely, but enough. With not an ounce of hesitation, you gave up trying to make your, now useless, dominant hand to obey you, and switched you weapon, lurching under the monster and stabbing the glowing red skin, a surge of black blood dripping into your face and clothes as the monster disappeared into itself.

“Name!” Time finally got it into himself to call you out, armored form rushing to your side at an abnormal speed.

You looked back at him, still a very gruesome, bloody messy as you gave him a victorious grin, but he couldn't find it in himself to worry about that in the moment, just wanting to check if you were too injured from the battle, but just as he was two steps in, your face morphed into something akin to panic, stumbling hurriedly into your own feet and frantically running to him.

“Wait! Beside you!” Your shout was enough to alert him, shield quickly lifted as he bashed the monster into the ground, yet, his vision blurred at the sudden movement, body still weak from the hit he'd taken previously.

He felt your hand on his back, trying to keep him steady as the other swung the blade in front of you, the metal making an annoying screech as it made contact with the black mask, which only seemed to anger the monster further, pushing forward at an ungodly speed with it's tentacles trashing around.

In the heat of the moment, you mustered all the strength you could, pushing the hero to the side — a feat that was only possible because of his weakened state — as you took the full impact, body falling to the ground with a crushing thud, you winced, but still pushed forward, the blood pumping through your body giving you the last bit of adrenaline you needed to finally ground the monster, watching it slowly disappear as the aches in your body only now started to settle.

You could hear Time thunderous voice from beside you, but it sounded so distant, yet so loud, you could only close your eyes in hopes the tinning in your ears would stop.

You felt a cool hand — a metal plate? — settling against your burning cheeks, Time eye scanning you fully, rambling quickly about something as he seemed to shout to someone on the other side of the battlefield, you tried to laugh at his worry, only being able to hack a cough, throat clogged with blood.

You could see him turning his head back to you, mouthing a “don't leave me yet” at you, you grinned.

“Not before you, old man.” You saw him frown and was quick to add. “Don' worry, 'ts not the time yet.” You couldn't wait for his answer, face drooping into his shoulder as your vision blackened.

You could only hope he would lessen his nagging from next time you woke up, pitying your battered state.

Twilightʼ

It seemed that ever since he got into this adventure, with eight other unsettling versions of himself, plus an unassuming you, his luck whenever he transformed with the twili magic pummelled — yes, even more than in his own aventure, wasn't he sufficiently unlucky during his trials.

It was an unfamiliar Hyrule, and both you and him, well, Wolfie, had assumed the responsability of checking the sorrounding areas for any threat.

And what a threat it had, a swarm of dynalfos madly chasing after the both of you, a few too rough swing of their weapons barely catching at your tearing tunic as you tried tirelessly to keep up with the wolf speed.

“Fuck! I thought these bastards didn't wander in groups, what the heck are they even doing out in the open!?” As much as Twilight would like to agree with you at the moment, he could only let out a huff in the bestial form.

You gritted your teeth, pushing your legs until they were burning with the strain, never losing speed in fear they might actually catch up with you, as you rummaged through your backpack, probably looking for anything that might work, since your sword proved to be pretty damn useless against their gauntlets.

“Hey Wolfie, do you trust me?” He barely spared you a glance, quickly noticing the bomb you recklessly lightened in your arms. “Because if you don't, you might as well go on your own way.”

He tried to yelp as you didn't let go of the bomb even as the fire engulfed almost all of the rope, your hands shaking in what he assumed to be fear, though at this point it might as well be excitement, with the maddening smirk that played in your lips.

Waves of roars and shrieks resounded behind the both of you just as you threw the bomb back, the object exploding not even a few seconds after, as you made sure to hold it until the last possible second, so they wouldn't be able to throw the object back at you and make the situation even worse. Flames licked just short of your backs, threatening to burn both the strap of your leather bag and the tip of Wolfie's tail.

You cussed under your breath, legs stopping, as you turned around to face the enemies, now finally weakened enough for the both of you to at least try to face head on.

“If I'm right, they're from the captain's Hyrule, so we don't have much time to take them down.” You saw the wolf tail flick, as if in understanding, and you took that as a signal to rush foward, hearing his steps right behind you.

You surged foward, striking the monsters with the barely retained memories of the hellish training the captain had drilled into you, almost finishing off your enemies when you heard your companion yelp, a dinolfo having grabbed at his tail just as he tackled another of the oversized lizards into the ground, just as he was about to turn, ready to maul whatever got him, a wooden shield flew past his nose, right into the monster head, sending it into it's back, completely unmoving.

When the both of you were finally finished, it was nothing more than a gory mess, guts splattered all over as the both of you laid in the midst of the atrocious visage, panting and bleeding, the man long since turned into his original form, throwing all his care into the wind as he made himself comfortable beside you.

“We have to report it back to them, especially since these fuckers must be from the captain world.” You muttered, breathing heavy as you tried to lift your arm, only a groan making it past your mouth.

The man laid beside you only mumbled in agreement, not actually moving to get up, and actually throwing an arm over your body, making sure you wouldn't get out of there until the two of you at least got some rest.

Yeah, he could let the nagging wait a bit more, for now the thought of a little rest just seemed so much better than going back only to hear how reckless the both of you were to actually act alone.

He then frowned as if remembering something, face turning to you.

“How many times did we tell ya not to thrown the shield.” His voice was exasperated and you all but glared at him.

“Ah c'mon! It works!”

Warriorsʼ

“Get down!” A cry in your voice was enough for the warrior to follow through your orders, barely dodging a monster attack on the right as you nimbly shifted to his side, blocking an aerial attack with the shield Wild had lent to you weeks ago.

He hadn't thought much of the occurrence, as one of the archers in the group quickly sent the monster down, and you dealing a final blow without much trouble, what he didn't expect, however, was to find you barely a few hours after the battle kneeled beside a water body trying to wash down an conspicuous amount of blood off the arm you had previously wielded the shield with.

“Name? Did you get hurt? You could've asked me for a potion if your stock ran off, Hyrule would've also helped, we didn't have many casualties today.” He was quick to close off the distance, even as you seemed to do your best to avoid any type of contact with the hero.

“The stock is running low...” You started, low voice, but as he didn't budge, waiting for a more plausible excuse you saw no choice but to continue. “and there's still shards in my arm, it wouldn't be helpful to heal it as it is.”

Azure eyes ran over what he previously thought to be only stains and clogs of blood over the grass, only now noticing how it shimmered under the light, pieces of what seemed to be freshly cut flesh clinging into the sharper edges.

Warriors rushed to your side, hands grabbing firmly at your shoulder and wrist, fresh blood quickly oozing into his own pristine robes, but he didn't mind, not as he noticed just how serious what he thought to only be a light wound actually was. He suppressed a frustrated groan as he heard in inhale sharply at his prodding in the less open part of the wounds.

“How did this happen?” His voice was sharp, clearly not giving you a chance to even try and escape from him.

“Nothing...” A sharp glare was enough to make you stop, clearing your throat before continuing. “The kargarocs clawed at my arm just as Wild's shield shattered. It was just that, besides, it's not as bad as it look.”

The way you winced when his fingers flexed a little too harshly around your wrists was enough to betray your own words, yet you didn't back down, not until you saw Link's face morphing from a frown into the most —fake— dashing smile you've seen him send your way.

“If it's not that bad, then i guess you wouldn't mind a little help.” The way his eyes didn't match his smile was enough of a warning of the hell he'd put you through for not taking care of yourself in the first place.

“Wait, no—”

Your loud scream resonated through the quiet forest, as the man all but huffed, taking out the shards littering your arms with a gentle, yet rigid touch.

Too bad, it was already too late, maybe this way you'll learn to stay out of trouble next time.

Hyruleʼ

He couldn't say he was thrilled to get back to his own Hyrule, while, yes, it was comforting to recognize the vegetation around, much like the many hiding spots he found during his tireless adventures, he still felt much too paranoid to parade around the existing bustling town, a gnawing feeling at the back of his head saying — screaming — that as long as he was there, the hunt for his head would prevail.

So with such thoughts, he didn't think much of letting you talk with some of the locals, much too unrelated to the hero to pose any apparent threat to the villagers, as he hid himself just short of your eyesight, as the both of you waited for the rest of the group to buy whichever necessities you were still lacking from the journey.

What he didn't expect was to suddenly hear an almost guttural growl from you, as you tensed up from the previously amicable chat, his body turning just in time to see you land a punch straight into the other person nose, blood cascading instantly down your fist.

From there it went downhill, the other two person joining in the brawl you seemed to start without a care as Hyrule rushed to your side, trying to both protect you, while also pulling you out of the fight.

“Stop that, Hyrule! I'll kill those bastards!” You voice resounded with so much unfiltered hatred, that he considered that your threats may actually turn out be true, wasn't he quick enough to act.

He had always thought of you as calm and collected, a little silly sometimes, but that was about it, yet as he saw you snarling at the opposing group, having to almost wrestle you out of the place, he could see just how soft you actually were to the group of heroes.

The traveller regretted having put out his power bracelet in fear of hurting anyone too much, as throwing your fighting form over his shoulder and setting back proved to be much harder than when he did same with the usual pacific you, his steps thumped loudly against the dry grass, the sound of angered shouts getting more and more distant with the passing seconds, along with your own, which died into tiny sobs and hiccups.

When he noticed your chasers weren't on your tails anymore, he finally stopped, breathing hagged as he carefully lowered you to the floor, hands instantly coming to cup your face carefully, thumbing at the tears, worried expression as he checked your body for any wounds, his magic making quick work on any he spotted.

“Now now, what's the problem? What happened.” He watched as the tears didn't stop, yet you frowned in annoyance.

Not at him, of course. Never at him.

You pursed your lips, teeth gritting as you finally started talking, a sigh falling regretfully from your lips.

“Those bastar—” A quiet hush from him forced you to stop, his eyes never letting yours leave his. “They” You growled “were acting like you were nothing more than a curse. It's not fair that you get this type of treatment after all you did to save those people.”

His smile grew a little, strong arms engulfing you in a warm hug, your own slithering across his back naturally as he leaned into your shoulder.

“I don't care about those things.” Not for as long as I have you. “But thank you, Name.” His soft hum was quiet against your ear, and that was all the comfort the both of you could ever need, tightly wound in each other embrace.

Legendʼ

Legend was against the whole plan.

Especially when it took place with you acting as the bait, taking the unlucky lot while they drawed each person role.

He gritted his teeth, looking regretfully at the Pegasus Boot and the defense ring he placed in your hands, while you laughed awkwardly.

“You don't have to give me that, you know. I know how to battle, maybe not as much as you guys, but I can handle on my own.” You tried, pushing the items back into his hands, but he stepped back before you would force him to take, his frown only getting deeper.

“I know.” Was his only answer, to which you quirked your brow quizzically and he huffed. “We all watched your progress in battle, still, it just feels wrong to leave someone behind.”

Warriors was about to make a teasing comment about his unusual character, when Twilight jabbed at him, forcing the knight to bend over.

Time sighed as he watched the veteran so restless, drawing the attention back to him.

“Then the veteran stays back with Name.” The oldest sent a teasing smirk your way, which the others seemed to not notice, as he turned back to the rest of the group. “The rest of us will go as planned, Wild come with me, Warriors with Wind and Hyrule with Twilight. Get ready by the doors and make sure to come back before the time runs out.”

You prepared to start the mechanism of the dungeon, pulling the lever when the acting leader nodded. You and the veteran watched as they all disappeared into the passages, stone doors closing behind them as soon as they left, leaving the place you stood only barely lightened by the scarce torches lit around the walls.

The first wall to light up was the one in the right, where the traveller and ranch hand had disappeared into, both you and Legend walking up to it to take a closer look at the glowing blue scriptures.

“Only when the sun is lit, can the lost ones be found.”

It was easy enough, you looked around the room, soon finding a tile carved with the sun marking, Legend didn't think much before using the fire rod on it, the first pillar lightening up in blue, the form of a child carved into it.

The second wall lightened up, this time from Wars and Wind side.

“Only a cup of water can sate one's thrist.”

Sound of dripping water started to resonate around the room, the statue glow dimming as the child now bent over it's form, tears welling down the pillar. You took the bowl beneath it, already half full as you looked back at your partner, who pointed at the drying flower who bloomed among the stone path. You watered it, the flower blooming back to life, a golden key appearing between it's petals. The veteran didn't think much before picking it up, the second pillar lighting up with a garden.

As the third and last wall lightened up, the torches were blow off, all lights around the room turning from a soft blue to bloody red.

"A true warrior may carve it's path upon the enemies blood.”

Gears started to sound around the room, the torches blow off and the only light around now being the poor scriptures that barely let you count the fingers in your hands.

The child statue now stood as a imposing adult holding a sword, the tears that fell turning into a river of blood, and the garden pillar now turning into a fire caught wasteland.

A opening appeared on the ceiling, in which Keeses started pouring over like ants, Legend took the fire rod, knowing that with a single hit he could take at least a few of them down, however just as he was about to shot the magic, it died down altogether.

“What!?” He shouted exasperated, trying again in a futile attempt.

You looked at him, drawing your bow, hoping to even get a few down from how bad your eyesight got in the dark place.

He followed your example, grumpy about his malfunctioning item as he gripped onto his sword, taking down any that got too close to the floor.

As you were finally setting a rhythm, you started hearing a buzzing, looking into the hero direction the see the electro keese closing in on him.

“Vet!” You hand hooked at the hero tunic, all but throwing him to the other side, the monster reaching you as it's electric aura engulfed your body in an excruciating pain.

...

Or not. You blinked, looking up from your kneeling form, the hero running up to your side, as a disheveled mess, trying to look for injuries on your body, the red lights returning to a blue hue, and torches lighting back as the doors clinked open.

“But only true heroes won't think before saving a dear one.” The sailor voice sounded behind you, apparently reading the newly lightened wall who led you to the next room. “Whatever happened to the both of you here?” He asked, confused face as he stared at the both of you.

As you and Legend looked at each other face, clear confusion written all over it, the both of you nodded at each other.

“Nothing.”

Wildʼ

Wild could somehow feel the consequences of his actions catching up with him.

His hands tightened around your wrist, tugging you along with him as you ran from the lynel positively huffing like a bull as it ran behind you. He felt like this would be the feeling Twilight felt whenever he saw him running to do some things stupid.

Why did he just have to give in to your pleading eyes when you asked him to show you how to hunt a lynel?

He could see you stealing glances at the monster from the corner of his eyes, your figure pretty much laid back even when you knew — or at least he thought so — that thing could send you flying with a single hit.

When it's axe was lifted, you shifted to the side, pulling Wild out of its reach and almost sending the both of you colliding to the floor.

“I think I understand it now!” You shouted at him, blood pumping so hard from the adrenaline you almost couldn't hear yourself.

And with that, Wild felt a bad sense of premonition, his gut sinking as he recognizer that look on your face. The same look he had when he first tried to beat a lynel, before he was beaten half to death and ran back to formulate another plan, and while it was... well, different from the first, it certainly wasn't optimal.

He looked at you, face bewildered as he whisper shouted a “no”, hand tightening around yours as if he was the leash keeping a child from doing something idiotic, yet you only huffed and rolled your eyes.

“You do it, why can't I?” You whined and he considered begging for Twilight's forgiveness for every shit he put his mentor through. “Besides, you're here to help me, we can just retreat if you think it's getting too dangerous.”

He sighed, before pointing to the bottom of the hill, a large lake surrounding the area.

“If it get dangerous I'll use cryonis and we'll get out of here, no if's and but's, okay?” You grumbled out and his eyes thinned. “Okay?” He repeated himself.

“Okaaaay.” You drawled out, charging to the point he pointed, letting go of his hand as he attracted the lynel to he area.

It started fairly well, he attracted the monster to him while you shot it from the side, his bow trainings paying off as you hadn't hit the blonde man a single time yet. And hopefully you wouldn't for the rest of the battle.

Just as you were about to pull the last arrow, you saw the shining, massive axe in the hands of the lynel start flying towards your direction, the young hero quickly telling you to run towards the lake.

Your mind raced as you thought of your options, eyes flashing from Link's place near the lake to the weapon flying your way sickeningly fast, the bow dropping from your hand as you took the claymore strapped to your hip.

Wild's face dropped, heart sinking as he could already read your thoughts. Damned be the day he tried to teach you how to parry.

You waited. Waited. Wait... And then with a sharp, deafening sound the ginormous weapon was sent flying, it lasted less than a second, yet for you it seemed as if the world had stopped, you felt like you could understand, even if a little, when Wild talked about how the world seemed to slow down around him when he was battling.

Before you could turn to the hero to celebrate, you felt a heavy punch landing into the side of your head, sending you flying back, vision wavering.

He would have to teach you not to take your eyes off the enemies in battle it seemed, he sighed running up to finish dealing with the monster before you were too beaten up.

Windʼ

It was just your luck.

The dungeon had separated the whole group, and while you weren't too worried about only you and Wind forming a duo, you were quite worried for whose world it was now.

All of the heroes eras were quite the catastrophe, however Time's was an utter mess, especially with the happenings of Majora Mask he had to deal while still a child.

You gritted your teeth, pulling the younger one beside you by the arm, as he whined something about being able to take them on.

“Look Wind, I know you're competent and all, I also understand that you know how to deal with them, however you have to understand that these are not the ReDeads from back at your world.” You pursed your lips as you heard their screeching approaching.

The young hero huffed, finally accompanying your steps on his own, instead of being dragged like dead weight.

“So, any plan?” His pout was very much visible, in your mind at least, as the corridors were dark enough for you to trip over your own feet sometimes.

“You betcha, sailor.” You only hoped it would actually work. “Think you could play a song right now?”

You could feel Wind's judgemental stare right through your skull, but when you did nothing but press him for an answer he giggled madly.

“I don't know what you're brewing up, but I hope it'll be fun.” The boy grabbed onto your hand, sprinting even faster, pulling you through some many doors and corridors of what you thought to be the correct path, until you could see a few barely visible flashs of light streaming down from the ceiling, the first room you had fallen into when you first entered the dungeon, the bars showing only enough for the both of you to see the shadow of your faces, giggling as if the monsters that followed you wouldn't just up and kill the both of you with as much as a single touch.

You quickly scampered further into the light, knowing it would only be enough to slow them down for a little, before you started talking lowly, not considering the earlier fits of laugh would be enough to alert all of the monsters around of your exact position.

“I assume you don't have your mirror with you.” The sailor nodded, almost rolling his eyes at the predictability, but before he could voice his complaints you continued. “But you wouldn't come without your wand, right?”

He now raised an eyebrow, mouthing an “Of course”, as you nodded to yourself.

“Let's pray that it counts as an magical instrument, get it and try to follow the music I'll hum to you.” You barely got him any chance to process before humming the Sun Song you'd grew so familiar over the time.

The boy just looked at you as if you were crazy, grabbing onto the item and hurriedly trying to follow along, a few tries in and the both of you huffed, patience running thin as a strew of curses fell from the boys lips, something you thanked the goddess above that the Hero of Time or the Hero of Twilight weren't there to see.

You groaned, exasperated, as the monsters were now only a few feet away from you both, you pressed him further up into the wall, fully covering his body from the monsters view, almost like a living bait, a thing he'd certainly nag at you later.

In the desperation you whistled the song, praying it was sufficiently in tune for him to relate to the sound of the wind he often listened to while on his journey.

“C'mon, three, three, five!” You prayed, a phantom touch at your neck sending chills down your spine as if sucking your life force, while you tried to whistle the tune again.

“Got it!” He exclaimed, a whirlwind forming around you both as the light shone even brighter above the both of you, almost like the salvation light, the wave of monster falling slowly with shrill screams, one you'd hope to never hear again.

You finally let go of his arms, body trembling so much you could only topple down as tears streamed down your cheeks, the bone chilling presence of their touch still very much vivid in you mind, as the younger one could only rub your shoulders soothingly, knowing full well you took most of the hits in order to keep him safe.

He sighed, resolved to let your actions slide this one time, with a tired smile.

“Thank you for trying to protect me, let's rest a little and then well go back to the others.” His voice was way less chirpier than usual, you nodded, leaning one against the other, finally able to get a breather under the warm light casted over the two of you.

Skyʼ

It was somewhat stupid, honestly.

You knew fully well that all of those men had full capacity to take over at least a dozen monsters more than you, without even breaking a sweat, no less, especially the local lazy eyed hero who seemed to enjoy his little naps a little more than it was healthy and just happened to take over a god all by himself.

You knew it, yes, but your stupid body decided to move before your brain could fully process what was even happening.

“Sky, that...” You lightly tugged at the hem of the skyloftian armor, eyes focused on the strange spikes fluctuating dangerously beside the hero.

The form seemed familiar, but you only were able to fully recognize it when little eyes peeked through the sand wasteland, the man beside you now standing in full alert as his eyes seemed to catch onto the same thing as you.

The whole group stopped, now looking back at the two of you, but as you tried to point towards the enemy to explain you wouldn't have to battle as long as you avoided it's vision, you could see from the corner of your eyes one of the more reckless from the group charge full on at the little monster.

“Wait, it'll explode!” Sky tried to warn, a little too late as it's body expanded, sending projectiles of poisonous darts around.

Thankfully Wild was quick enough to react a pull a shield to protect himself, and the others were far enough not to get in the way, however as both you and the Hero of the Skies were the one who stood closer to it, you had taken the full brunt of the blow, fully ducking the hero behind your form.

You gasped as you felt the thorns ripping through your flesh, the feeling way more painful than you had expected at first, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as you all but hollered at Wild.

“Don't go touching it, you dumbass! Just blow it away!” You winced when the hero held in your arms moved to trace the sides of your wounds, a wince of his own sounding as he saw his bloodied gloves.

“Don't move, it'll hurt.” Sky voice was still collected, but you could see his eyes wavering a bit, knowing full well how terrible it was to receive one of these attacks head on, he sighed. “Why did you protect me? My armor was enough to take it.”

It was unusual to hear the usually so pacific hero grumbling around like that, but you could barely focus on that as you felt his hands making quick work of removing the most superficial ones from your skin, the scalding hot feeling of the poison in the open wounds soon melting off as Hyrule made a quick work of staying beside you to heal the wounds.

“I panicked, besides, if it was a black blooded monster, who knew what else he'd— shit! Do?” You felt your knees weakening, even as he held you upright, so you gave in to muffling a cry into his shoulder as he took off a particularly hard spike buried in the side of your waist.

“So you did this even considering it was a mutated monster?” You could feel he bit off another sigh. “Really, you're the only one reckless enough to throw yourself in to protect a hero.” He patted your head in a comforting touch to tell it was over. “But don't go thinking I'm not mad at you and Wild. The both of you should stop acting so recklessly already, it'll worry all of us.”

You could hear Wild whining off at some distance, as you held the urge to do the same, as you knew the boy could be as scary as Time if pushed far enough.

Fourʼ

The short hero was quite used to be underestimated, and at first he thought you'd fall under the same category of people who judged his strength based on his height alone.

It was a pleasant surprise for him when he could finally notice your protectiveness came from a place of care, actually.

What wasn't pleasant, however, was how, no matter how much you knew that the hero was much stronger than you, you couldn't let go of this worrisome habit of always putting his safety and comfort before yours.

Especially now, where you, and the four parts of the little hero battled away against a wave of skulltulas, the monsters easy enough for you and the four heroes to tackle on, however their sheer amount was enough to give you a harder time dealing with them.

You sidestepped, back meeting with Green's, hearing him chuckle before branding his sword to the right, striking down two of the monsters with a single attack, you and Red joining hands so the smaller one could easily acess the weak spot of a specially tough one.

However, things seemed way messier at the other side, Blue and Violet having to deal with just as much as the three of you, while also sparing jabs at each other, harsh comments over the other clumsiness as they rashly brandished their sword, clearly tired of the long running battle.

“It doesn't seem to be ending anytime soon.” You muttered, both of the man beside you nodding in agreement. “Should we just take off?” You offered, an instant disagreement falling from both Blue and Violet.

“If its a swarm this big, it could reach one of the nearby cities.” Red made an actual helpful comment, to which you sighed.

You held your tongue, knowing none of them would appreciate you making any comments about their far too heroic side, putting your focus back on the battle.

It didn't take much longer for the wave of Skulltulas to actually start to thin out and finally take the last one on. Tge five of you finally lowered you weapons, watching as the last of the enemies disappear in a black mist.

The only sound now being your heavy breathings and the rustling of the trees above you. You looked up, heaving a sight and watching as the leaves above your head danced from one side to another along with the wind, only now noticing a strange light, or actually, a lack thereof.

“Hey guys..?” You started, as they looked at you. “I guess i know why they were so mad at us now.” They followed your line of sight, a gasp sounding behind you, which you didn't bother naming whose it was.

A skulltula — if you could even call it that, at this point — hung over the trees, it's web big enough to cover a whole house, the monster only shying a little in question of size.

“Are you guys sure you still want to play hero?” Surprisingly, it wasn't you this time, but Violet.

You shook you head, already knowing their answers, as you hooked your fingers under your bow, pulling one arrow and readying to fire under their command.

“Well.... like it or not, we are heroes.” Blue stated, giving you the signal.

You shoot the arrow, the object hitting bullseye into one of the monster's eye, not that it was too difficult from it's sheer size.

With a thundering roar, it dropped down from it's web, the natural floor shaking under your feet as you stepped back to gain the distance advantage this time, the split hero standing in front of you to act like a bait.

The four of them each had gone to one side of the monster, as you made another clear shot, this time taking one of its hind leg, the blood spraying in a somewhat gruesome way you hadn't had the chance to notice when fighting the smaller one.

Just as you were about to shot another of its legs, you heard a groan, Blue falling to the ground as the monster charged into him. You gritted your teeth, lowering the bow as you pulled your sword from your waist and running up to him without a second thought, stopping in front of him, and parrying the oncoming attacks however you could as Blue still seemed disoriented from the fall.

What you didn't take into account was how heavy it's attack would be now that it had the added weight of it's sheer size, you lightly hissed when it's fang bit into your left shoulder, almost dropping the weapon out of reflex, but you clenched your jaw, forcing your fingers to remain flexed into the sword hilt, then thrusting it into the spider's many eyes when it finally let go of you, it's bug juice overflowing into you and your wound, only making it sting more.

Barely a few seconds after you could see the monster disappearing, as Violet and Green each cut one side of the monster, the skulltula disappearing into a black matter quickly as you heaved a sigh, the five of you finally regrouping into the center of the clearing.

“Did I already say that I hate spiders? Because if not, now I do.” Violet said, clearly disheartened at the whole ordeal, to which you only nodded in agreement.

#lu hyrule #lu time #lu legend #lu wild #lu wind #lu sky #lu twilight #lu four #lu warriors #linked universe x reader #i don't know how to tag this there are too many people sjdkxnxkd #link x reader #fungi's delicacies

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