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band au . . . part three :: sleepover

pairing :: alysa liu x fem! reader

introduction ,, prologue ,, part one ,, part two

devon’s house always felt like it belonged to someone else.

it was untouched like rooms existed just to prove they could. family photos lined the hallway, but none of them were recent. same smiles were frozen in time like no one had thought to update them.

devon never talked about it.

his parents were always gone—work trips, late nights, things that sounded important enough not to question. he’d mention it sometimes, casually, like it was normal.

and maybe it was for him, but you notice the way how fast the house fills up the second all of you walk in.

because quiet doesn’t suit him. he’s too loud for that. so instead, he fills it with music, arguments, and you guys.

as much as he complains about hosting every time, he still lets you all in every time.

whether he wanted to admit it or not, the noise, the chaos, and the band was the closest thing he’s got to something that stays.

but for now, he’ll still complain.

“just so we’re clear,” devon says, kicking the door shut behind all of you. “this was not my first choice.”

you step inside, dropping your bag by the couch. “you say that every time.”

“because every time i’m right,” he shoots back. “i could’ve thrown a party. like a real party. with cool people.”

quinn glances around the empty house. “and yet… here we are.”

“yeah,” cam adds, holding up a bag of chips. “with snacks.”

devon scoffs. “you guys are the snacks.”

“that didn’t come out how you thought it did,” alysa says, making you stifle a laugh.

“dev, you’re so ungrateful,” you finally say.

“i’m not ungrateful,” devon argues. “i’m just saying, it’s my house, my rules, and i choose to hang out with you dorks instead of becoming a legend tonight.”

“you were never becoming a legend,” quinn says flatly.

alysa snorts from the couch, tossing a blanket over her shoulders like a cape. “face it, dev. this is your peak.”

he holds up his hands. “my peak hasn’t even started, aly.”

you shake your head, smiling despite yourself, and start arranging pillows on the floor.

eventually, the living room is covered in blankets and pillows, the tv playing superbad.

alysa drops down next to you, like always. “this seat taken?” she asks, grin wide.

you roll your eyes. “yes, actually.”

alysa squints. “by who?”

you look around the room. cam was already sitting cross legged on the other side couch, devon sat on the floor with his head resting against the couch, and quinn was in the kitchen, searching for an energy drink in devon’s fridge.

“quinn,” you say, holding your chin up a little higher.

alysa narrows her eyes. “hey, q?” alysa yells, still staring at you.

quinn groans from the kitchen, closing the fridge with a thud. “what do you want?”

“are you sitting next to drama queen?” she asks, finally taking her gaze off you.

before you can say anything, quinn is already walking into the living room again, holding someone random can. “take it,” quinn shrugs, already sitting on the arm rest of the couch.

alysa’s gaze finds yours again, smiling widely.

you huff, crossing your arms a little.

“relax, i don’t bite,” alysa says, scooting closer and dropping her head closer to your ear. “unless you want me to,” she whispers.

you just sit up more, leaning forward with your elbows resting on your legs, hands on your chin. “pervert,” you whisper.

from the tv, fogell says his iconic “mclovin” line.

devon groans immediately. “this movie is stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” alysa replies. “it’s a classic.”

you glance at the screen, and then back again, a little more interested than you meant to be. “michael cera is the only thing keeping me watching.”

alysa tilts her head. “that’s your type?”

you huff. “that’s not what i meant.”

“i know,” she says, lips twitching. “just taking notes.”

devon snorts. “yeah, aly, take notes. maybe start acting awkward and apologizing for everything.”

“i can do awkward,” alysa says immediately.

“well, you already do annoying,” quinn adds.

cam laughs quietly, eyes still on the screen. “he’s funny, though.”

“of course you’d think so, cam,” devon snorts.

cam immediately sits up straighter. “the hell does that mean?”

“oh, you know what it means,” devon whispers.

as devon and cam go back and forth, arguing, alysa leans closer. her shoulder presses lightly against yours. “you like funny?” she murmurs.

you don’t look at her. “i like people who don’t talk during movies.”

“wow,” she whispers. “that’s crazy. couldn’t be me.”

devon throws popcorn at both of you. “if you two flirt any louder, i’m kicking you out.”

“we’re not flirting,” you say.

alysa hums. “easy for you to say.”

✯

“y/n,” cam mumbles from somewhere under a pile of blankets. “we’re starving.”

you don’t even open your eyes. “and what do you want me to do about that?”

“uh, make us something?” devon says in obvious tone.

being the so-called “leader” of the band as the vocalist meant you somehow always got stuck with the domestic duties, like you were their mom.

“i need food,” devon insists. “i need substance, i need-“

“you need to shut up,” quinn mutters from the other side of the room.

cam sits up abruptly. “come on.”

“no,” you say immediately.

“yes,” he counters, already standing. “field trip to the kitchen.”

devon groans but pushes himself up anyway. quinn sighs, dragging a blanket with them. alysa doesn’t say anything, she looks at you, waiting.

you stare at all of them. “none of you know how to cook.”

“that’s why we have you,” devon says with a smile.

you exhale slowly. “i hate all of you.”

“love you too, drama queen.”

the kitchen light is way too bright for this time of night. it flickers on, exposing all of you in your half asleep, messy state—blankets over shoulders, hair a disaster.

“okay,” you say, tying your hair back. “i’ll make something.”

devon gasps. “you’re a hero.”

you grab bread, cheese, and butter to make grilled cheese. it was something you usually made during rehearsals since it was something everyone liked, and devon literally had nothing else in the kitchen.

“grilled cheese?” deven clutches his chest. “marry me.”

quinn snorts, glancing at alysa. “you’re late.”

“yeah, i called it first,” alysa nods.

you turn around, sending her a glance. “did i agree to that?”

alysa smiles, shaking her head innocently. “not yet.”

you turn your attention back to the stove. “keep talking and you all won’t be eating.”

cam sighs. “sorry, mom.”

alysa leans in, voice dropping. “don’t worry,” she murmurs. “she’ll be making us food all the time once we’re married.”

you don’t even look at her. “that sounds a little sexist.”

alysa pauses, immediately backtracking. “oh. no, no, then i’ll cook.”

devon bursts out laughing. “oh, absolutely not. do not let aly anywhere near a kitchen again.”

“that was one time,” alysa defends.

quinn raises an eyebrow. “you blew up your microwave.”

alysa’s eyes widened. “i didn’t blow it up-”

“you put a fork in it,” cam adds.

alysa throws her hands up. “i forgot it was on the plate!”

you stifle a laugh as start heating the pan.

behind you, cabinets open, drawers slide, and whispering is heard.

you slowly turn around. “why are you touching things?”

cam freezes, holding a pack of ham. “i was just-“

“nope.”

devon holds up a bag of chips. “what if we-“

“no.”

quinn leans against the counter. “i’m not doing anything.”

you turn to look at them. “you’re thinking about it.”

they sigh. “i am.”

alysa, meanwhile, has somehow ended up right behind you. “i think you should let me help,” she says.

you don’t face her. “absolutely not.”

“i could be useful,” alysa says.

“you’re not.”

alysa frowns a little. “that’s harsh.”

“you’re the one who almost blew up her microwave,” you say, trying not to smile.

alysa huffs, leaning against the counter.

you butter the bread, place it in the pan, listening to the soft sizzle.

for a second, it’s calm. until alysa’s hand reaches past you, grabbing a slice of cheese.

you don’t even hesitate. “alysa.”

“what?” she asks, already taking a bite.

you turn your head slightly.

she right there, closer than you expected, smiling like an idiot.

you signal to the cheese in her hand.

alysa pretends to think. “taste testing.”

“you’re stealing,” you correct.

she shrugs. “same thing.”

you roll your eyes, turning back to the stove.

“okay but hear me out,” devon says from behind you, holding up a sandwich stacked with cheese, chips, and something that might be pickles. “innovation.”

“that’s disgusting,” quinn says.

“it’s art,” devon grins.

cam carefully assembles his like it’s a science project. “i’m just saying,” he mutters, “if you balance the ingredients-“

“you’re overthinking grilled cheese,” devon interrupts.

cam’s eyes widen. “i’m not.”

devon hums. “you are.”

you flip your sandwich, perfectly golden.

alysa leans against the counter beside you now, watching you instead of the stove. “you’re… so good at this,” she says, just to speak to you.

you shrug. “it’s grilled cheese.”

she tilts her head. “still.”

you slide it onto a plate, cutting it cleanly in half. before you can even set it down, alysa takes one.

you blink. “did you just-“

“yep.” she takes a bite like it’s hers.

“make your own,” you say.

she smiles. “i like yours better.”

you squint. “you didn’t even try yours?”

alysa shakes her head. “i don’t need to.”

devon appears beside you. “where’s mine?”

you stare at him. “you were supposed to make it.”

“i tried,” he says. “it fell apart.”

you glance at his sandwich that’s barely holding together. you sigh before grabbing another piece of bread.

“wow,” quinn says. “look at that, she’s doing it anyway.”

“she loves us,” devon teases.

you shake your head. “one out of three.”

alysa holds a hand to her heart. “aww, is the one me?”

you narrow your eyes. “nope, it’s cam,” you signal to cam, who’s putting pickles on his sandwich.

“love you, drama queen,” he says, not even looking up.

alysa crosses her arms. “so you do like awkward guys?”

you shake your head, laughing. “i dont like guys. period.”

“so…” alysa drags out the word. “just awkward?”

you don’t answer her.

“i can do awkward pretty well, you know?” alysa says. “i actually-“

you let out a loud sigh. “shut up, liu.”

“okay,” is all alysa says.

devon’s snorts from beside her. “whipped.”

alysa grabs a cheese, slapping it onto devon’s cheek.

devon turns his head slowly. “oh, you bitc-“

“get out of my kitchen,” you finally snap, turning around to face them.

“actually, this is my kitchen,” devon corrects, cheese still on his face.

you send him a stern glare.

he sighs in defeat. “okay,” he walks out the kitchen beside alysa, slapping her shoulder before running off to the living room like a child.

✯

everyone falls asleep eventually. devon’s snoring was immediate. cam is buried in a blanket, comic still in his hand like he lost a fight with sleep. quinn is completely still, which either means they’re asleep, or very much not.

and you’re awake, staring at the ceiling. you close your eyes, then open them again. you let out a quiet sigh, shifting a little. your shoulder presses back into something warm and solid.

you freeze, taking a breath. you didn’t realize how close alysa was. or maybe you did, just not that close.

you start to move forward, slowly and carefully, trying not to wake her.

a hand settles lightly at your waist, causing you to go still again.

“don’t move…” she mumbles. her voice is rough with sleep, barely there.

you glance over your shoulder. you can’t fully see her face in the dark, but she’s definitely not asleep, not fully at least. “i wasn’t,” you whisper.

her grip shifts. “i’m too tired for this, drama queen,” she mutters.

you blink. “i didn’t do anything.”

“you did,” she says, words slurring together a little. “you moved.”

you almost laugh. “you’re the one holding me here.”

“mhm,” she mumbles. “problem?”

you hesitate. “no.”

she just hums like that settles it.

you try to shift again, just a tiny bit, but her hand presses a fraction closer to your waist.

“hey,” she murmurs. “you can’t pull away now that you’re so close.”

your breath catches. “i’m literally trying to sleep.”

“then sleep,” she mumbles.

you stare at the wall. “you’re making that difficult.”

another quiet hum comes from her. “sounds like a you problem.”

you huff softly, but you don’t move. her hand doesn’t either. it rests there like she forgot to take it away, or didn’t want to.

“alysa…” you whisper. “are you even awake?” you asks. “or sleep talking?”

she huffs quietly. “don’t know.”

you bite back a smile.

her hand shifts slightly. “go to sleep,” she mumbles.

“you’re holding me,” you whisper.

“deal with it.”

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band au . . . part one :: financially irresponsible behavior

pairing :: alysa liu x fem! reader

introduction ,, prologue

the bell above the door jingles like it’s already annoyed you exist, which feels accurate.

“okay,” devon says immediately, walking in like he owns the place, “rule number one, if we break something, we run.”

“we’re not breaking anything,” cam says, already trailing behind him, eyes lighting up at a wall of bass guitars like he just found heaven.

devon shakes his head. “you don’t know that yet.”

the music store was loud in a quiet way—random notes being played, someone testing a drum kit in the back, a guitar being tuned badly somewhere near the amps.

“don’t touch anything you can’t afford.” you say automatically.

alysa looks at you, then immediately picks up the nearest guitar.

you stare at her, crossing your arms.

“what?” alysa asks. “i can afford this,” she strums something that sounds almost like a real song before purposefully messing it up.

quinn disappears within seconds, like actually vanishes. one second they’re next to you, the next they’re halfway across the store, silently testing a keyboard like they’ve been there their whole life.

“do they teleport?” devon asks.

“yes,” you and cam say at the same time.

devon’s already at the drums a minute later. he sits down, spins a stick between his fingers, and immediately starts playing something loud enough to turn three heads and one very tired employee.

“devon,” you warn.

“what?” he says, not stopping. “i’m bonding with the instrument.”

“you’re harassing it,” you correct.

cam gently picks up a bass like it might disintegrate if he breathes too hard. “oh my god,” he whispers. “this is… okay, wait, listen to this—” he plays a few notes, the sound turning out surprisingly good.

you blink. “since when can you do that?”

cam looks up with an offended look on his face. “i’ve always been able to do that.”

you shake your head “no, you haven’t.”

“yes, i have.” he says, adjusting the instrument. “you’re just too busy charming everyone with your voice to notice the background noise.”

you snort. “i don’t charm.”

“speak for yourself,” alysa appears next to you again.

you turn slightly to face her. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you know exactly what it’s supposed to mean, sweetheart,” she says, nudging your shoulder with hers. “try this one.”

you glance at the electric guitar she’s holding. “i don’t play guitar.”

alysa snorts. “not with that attitude.”

you roll your eyes but take it anyway, strumming awkwardly. it sounds terrible.

devon immediately stops drumming just to yell, “oh, that’s bad.”

“shut up!” you snap.

“i’m just being honest!” he holds up his hands in defense, dropping the drumsticks in the process.

the sound of the sticks hitting the floor makes more employees turn around again, eyeing the messy haired boy sternly.

“sorry, i uh—“ he leans down to pick up the sticks. “they’re… perfectly fine.” he says, voice breaking in the process.

cam tries to hold in his laugh, but fails.

alysa chuckles right next to your ear, the sound of her low voice practically going down your spine. “you’re doing great,” she says, which would sound encouraging if she wasn’t clearly amused.

you sigh. “i think i’ll stick to my… charming voice.”

✯

time passes in a blur of bad riffs, devon getting told to “keep it down” three separate times, quinn appearing then disappearing in the same second, cam falling in love with at least four different basses, and alysa following you around like a shadow.

eventually, you all end up at the front counter with a small pile of things between you—drumsticks, new strings, and a guitar pick alysa insists is life changing.

the cashier scans everything, and the total flashes on the screen.

devon claps his hands once. “alright,” he says. “aly, you know the drill.”

silence.

alysa leans against the counter casually. “i didn’t bring any money.”

you turn your head to her slowly. “alysa.”

she smiles innocently, knowing that you were about to go all out on her. she always loved when you did that, partially because of how hot you looked when you scolded her.

you signal to her with you hand. “you pay for everything.”

“exactly,” alysa says easily. “i disagree with it.”

“on what basis?” quinn asks.

“vibes,” alysa nods with her lips in a line.

“you have terrible vibes,” you say.

alysa furrows her eyebrows. “my vibes are immaculate.”

the cashier is watching this like it’s a reality show.

devon sighs dramatically. “wow, betrayed by the upper class.”

“i’m not upper class,” alysa protests.

devon scoffs dramatically. “you literally have better shoes than all of us combined.”

alysa rolls her eyes. “these are old.”

“they’re shining,” cam stares down at her shoes, then back to his dirty converse.

you cross your arms. “just pay, alysa.”

“nope.” she shakes her head.

you step closer, and so does she. now you’re both standing there, way too close for a normal argument about money.

“pay,” you repeat.

she tilts her head. “make me.”

devon gasps. “oh, this is getting good.”

quinn hits his shoulder. “shut up, dev.”

you narrow your eyes, and alysa raises an eyebrow, waiting.

you reach forward to her wrist, grabbing it just enough to pull her hand toward the card reader. “pay,” you say again.

for a second, she doesn’t pull away, she just looks at you. then she laughs, shaking her head, and tapping her card anyway. “unbelievable,” she mutters.

transaction approved.

devon throws his hands up. “and that’s how you handle the rich!”

“i hate all of you,” alysa says.

“you love us,” cam corrects.

you let go of her wrist a second too late.

alysa glances at you, smiling again. “careful, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “you’re getting real bossy.”

you roll your eyes, turning away before she can see your small smile. “someone has to be.”

behind you, devon speaks up, “next stop,” he announces, “world domination.”

“next stop,” cam corrects, “practice.”

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band au . . . introduction

pairing :: alysa liu x fem! reader

what kind of idiots start a band the summer before senior year?

no, seriously. who looks at the last few months of freedom before everything changes—before college, before real life, before people start leaving—and thinks, “yeah, let’s lock ourselves in a dusty garage, argue over chord progressions, and emotionally ruin each other.”

apparently, you do. and alysa (who finds way too much thrill in teasing you). and devon (who definitely hasn’t cleaned his drums ever). and cam (who says he’s “just fixing the amp” but has been fixing it for three hours). and quinn (who claims they don’t even like you guys, but still shows up first every day).

it starts the way all bad ideas do. too loud, too late, and way too confident for a group of people who barely know what they’re doing.

the music is messy and sometimes actually good.

but the band is worse. because somewhere between late night practices, stolen hoodies, inside jokes that make no sense, and one very questionable demo, things start to shift.

jokes last a little too long, touches linger a little too much, and alysa liu doesn’t stop.

she flirts relentlessly like it’s some sick joke, and like it doesn’t make your heart do something weird and inconvenient and very noticeable.

and maybe it is nothing, maybe this is just what summer feels like—loud, chaotic, temporary.

or maybe, this is the kind of mistake you don’t come back from.

because by the time the garage feels too small and the nights feel too short, it’s already too late to pretend it didn’t mean anything.

a band, a summer, a really bad idea, and five people who are about to find out that growing up doesn’t happen all at once. it happens in moments, loud ones, messy ones, and the kind you wish you could play again for just one more time.

THE TEENAGE DIRTBAGS!

✯ you (she/her). vocals. the control freak.

✯ alysa (she/her). electric guitar. the flirt.

✯ devon (he/him). drums. the menace.

✯ cam (he/him). bass. the dork.

✯ quinn (they/them). keys. the observer.

“i give us about two weeks before we either become famous… or banned from this neighborhood.”