#Cello is like the guide I love it

[mythblossoms]

cherry wine

pairing: sylus x gn!reader

content: mutual pining, slight angst, music used as metaphor (poorly), pre-relationship, hand holding and dancing

a/n: sometimes a specific scene sticks in your head and you have to write something around that only. i also just love the sound of a cello ;-;

wc: ~1.4k

Music was honest. It spoke plainly about its desires and was vulnerable. The melodies openly conveyed emotions and stories, imploring those who heard to succumb to their passions. There is a beauty in patterns and themes laced between the harmonies.

At the least, that’s what Sylus told himself as he leaned casually against the gilded pillars decorating the gala floor. 

Your invitation to some musicians gala hadn’t been unexpected - the connections and intel privy to him had become a bonus to your missions, and Sylus was happy to oblige. But your openness, that was new. Your willingness to reach out and discuss tactics and invite him as something more, more than a source of knowledge at least.

He was happy to watch you work, your acting skills so finely honed now as you smiled coyly at other guests perched at the bar - your eyes, in contrast, sharply focused on your surroundings. You were an unknown force in your element, poised to strike. 

The musicians began their arrangement, the opening notes notifying the guests of the story they aimed to tell.

The aching thrum of the cello, the pining glide of the violin - woven together to create a song of want, grounded by a repetition of keys played softly on the piano. Sylus knows the story that inspired the peaks and valleys of this piece - the undying devotion of some underworld god to his spring bride, the names long forgotten but the sentiments still clinging to the notes. For you, I will wait. For you, I will suffer time and space. 

His eyes find your form across the gala floor. You, so warmly illuminated by the overhead chandeliers, cherry wine in hand and the pomegranate stain of your lips. Would you also eat the seeds — if offered? Would you stay — if asked? Your eyes flicked to his, offering a near imperceptible nod in his direction. For you, he would ask again and again.

The low lament of the cello hums through the room as your eyes leave his, searching the faces of each passerby as you swirl the untouched wine. Reasonably, Sylus knows that once you’ve completed your mission, you’ll be gone again. And he will wait again, until he is needed, until you are ready. The constant refrain his own frustrating internal melody - wait, wait, wait — again, again, again. He did not have the patience of some ancient god, and the yearning notes of the song left a sour taste in his mouth. 

As the music swells, melodic and mournful, Sylus finds himself pulled to you. He moves across the floor slowly, yet purposefully, eyes never leaving your face. 

“Dance with me.” Sylus offers his open palm to you, an open invitation, the corner of his mouth lifting into a slight smirk. 

You swirl the wine again in your glass, watching as the dark red liquid briefly coats the glass before settling. “Do you always ask people to dance to tragic love songs?” you mused, placing the glass on the bar. It’s easy, like this, pretending to be two strangers drawn together by the fervor of the strings. The hunger of their pitch echoing the feeling in your chest. 

“There’s a - sincerity to tragedy that makes it more memorable.” And for a moment, he seems far away, some distant memory clinging to the edge of his vision before he’s raising an eyebrow at you again.

“People will think you’re some sort of brooding crow.” You tease and gently take his hand, letting him guide you to the near empty floor.

“Do you think I care what people think, sweetheart?” Sylus smirks again, lightly holding your hand in one and splaying his other across your lower back. He pulls you in closer, chests nearly touching as he leans in closely. “I’m more interested in what your eyes see.” His warm breath sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. 

Logically, you think he means finding your target. Your vantage point from the center of the room certainly allows you to see more faces than you could from your singular place at the bar. And yet - the gentle way he holds your hand, the warm touch on your lower back, the softness in his eyes as he searches yours - you consider the outcomes of being bold, of being honest. 

Your hand flattens against the base of his neck, a thrum of energy flowing between the closeness of your bodies - your eyes fixed solely on his. “I’m not sure I’ve seen enough to make an informed decision.” The air stills around you, time seemingly frozen in this moment as the energy between you intensifies, the magnification of something bigger than both of you. “I’ll keep looking though.” 

The far away look returns to his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly - unexpressed sentiments hanging in the air. The instruments die down, the lack of sound somehow deafening in your ears, and Sylus slowly releases your waist - breaking the chord that hummed so loudly between you. 

Before you can step away, he captures your hand in both of his. Delicately, he lifts your palm to his lips and presses a light kiss in the center, holding your gaze before fully releasing you. Your palm tingles with warmth as you squeeze your hand shut, tucking it at your side. “Careful - don’t look too far or you may lose sight of what you're searching for.” His words feel ambiguous, leaving you sifting through context and emotion, the two swirling together as he steps closer. “On your right,” he murmurs before casually walking towards the exit. 

This is why pretending is easier, why leaving is easier - even when you knew you would come back. Staying meant confronting whatever ambiguity grasped onto each look or word between you and Sylus. Leaving granted space, a moment to breathe. Exhaling, you locked onto the man on your right, surrounded by others clinging onto whatever syrupy words he spun. Leaving meant gaining some control of this situation.

Sylus did not have the patience of long forgotten gods, but he did have their petulance. Standing at the end of the long hallway, shrouded in the shadow of a pillar - surely this is the type of brooding expected of a deity. 

Twice you managed to catch him in a moment. Twice, a fleeting sense of clarity that was quickly broken once he realized his surroundings and the scenario you both were in. You had truly looked at him this time, as if you could see each miniscule crack that deepened each moment spent together then apart. He felt a seismic shift beneath layers of protection he had spent so many years building up. The notes of the cello reverberated through Sylus’s mind, blending with his internal symphony - wait, wait, wait, for you. He had no clear path forward to you, no seeds to offer you - only the notes of song urging patience.

Footsteps interrupted his ruminations, the sound resonating down the hall moving closer to him. He doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you, the familiar determination underneath the light sound - letting you come to him. “Caught what you needed, kitten?” The teasing nickname falls easily from his lips, but he’s searching your face again - looking for something, anything to flicker across your face. Your determined mask remains in place and you’re barely slowing down as you pass him — leaving again.

“His notes were…off-key,” you state plainly, stepping out into the cool night air. Sylus huffs a laugh in response, bad intel. “But not a total loss, he had some interesting friends. Guess I’ll have to look closer.” There’s a subtle curtness to your voice, dismissive even, as you navigate the city street - Sylus still trailing behind.

“Be patient,” he almost bites out, the irony not lost on him. “True motives always reveal themselves, in the end.” 

You stopped abruptly in front of him, turning to face him with a boldness he’d grown fond of. “And if I’m not patient?” Your words are clear, daring to hold his gaze. “What if I’m impulsive?”

“The power is in your hands then - you have to decide how you want to proceed.” Another dance, another song — laced with hidden meanings. Your eyes soften slightly - were you playing the same tune? Did you understand the notes played under his words? Sylus extends his hand to you again, palm open and still. “For now, let’s get you home.”

You smile lightly, the corners of your lips slightly turned up. “It’s early for you - isn’t it?” You take his hand, gently lacing your fingers with his. “Why don’t you take me on the scenic route?” 

[jester-lover]

Hi! How are you doing?

May I please request fem!reader having a 'Cinderella fairytale moment' with the first years?

You know like NRC is hosting a ball and they're waiting for her and then she enters wearing a ballgown and all eyes are on her because she looks so beautiful? If that's alright?

Magic Moment

W/ the First Years! + PLATONIC! Trein (I had to for this ask)

I’m doing wonderfully, thank you for asking! This ask is super cute and I’d happily answer more like it!

CW/ Fem! Reader, fluff, shyness, nervousness, average Sebek behavior (he’s my favorite), MR. TREIN BEING A BETTER ADOPTIVE FATHER THAN CROWLEY, I tried to leave the dress details vague, but the general ballgown shape is mentioned

The bustling sounds of the Ball were ringing through your ears as you slowly walked through the hall into the ballroom, your wide ball flowing behind you. Grim had already shot past and went straight for the buffet, which was expected but did nothing to stop your nervous mind.

Suddenly you felt a comforting presence beside you, and you turned around to see Professor Trein, wearing robes with a bit more formal flair.

"I can assure you that they won’t bite; those boys are rambunctious, but they have a certain level of decorum."

He had a rather comforting smile on his face, which you mirrored as a surge of confidence went through you.

"Thank you, Professor."

He nodded slightly as you turned on a heel, holding your head up higher with a small smile on your face.

The great doors opened with a small creek as you stepped onto the main staircase, the bustling crowd flitting throughout the ballroom as you stood at the helm of the stairs.

All eyes were on you, and the crowd seemed to shush a little as you glided down the stairs. The flowing dress made you seem like you were floating. As you stepped onto the main floor, the sensations hit slowly; the sweet smells of the chocolate fountain and the gentle viola and cello melodies set a soft mood.

However, all of the decadence was put to shame when you saw a familiar face waiting for you.

Ace

He had to cram himself through a crowd of eager boys, all wanting what he did, the first dance of the night with you

Ace’s usual smug grin feels a little shaky, just like his hands as they grasp onto yours

“You wouldn’t mind if we danced, would you?”

His voice is almost nervous as he takes in the sight of you, your beauty and how lucky he is to call himself yours

he guides you to the center of the ballroom, as the lights dim slightly and the music becomes romantically fast paced and delicate

His hands clasp at your waist gently as the two of you begin stepping in matching order

Your gorgeous dress flutters on the ballroom floor as Ace twirls you to the music

After the two of you danced till your legs were sore, you wander off by the gardens

“I feel like I’ve been a little quiet tonight, don’t get too used to it, okay?”

Ace’s usual quips become a little gentler, you can tell he really wants you to have a nice time, and also because he wants you to think well enough of him to spend more time together

He’ll take any chance he gets to prove himself to you

The night ends with a kiss on the cheek as his face turns redder than his hair

Deuce

Through the bustling ballroom, Deuce used all his track skills to get to you as fast as he could before someone else could woo you away

“P-please let me have a dance with you!”

You guide him to the dance floor as the music gets slow and soft, his hands still against your waist as his heart beats normally again

This sweet boy is trying desperately to remain respectful in front of a lady, especially one as special as you

as the two of you twirl through the night, his gaze never left yours, you felt yourself fall deeper in love with the boy in front of you

Deuce guides you off to get some light refreshments when the two of you seem tuckered out, and the two of you exchange pleasantries as the party dissipated

He walked you home after the Ball, dutifully watching for anything that could cause you harm until you stepped onto the Ramshackle grounds

You kiss him on the cheek and wish him farewell, as you walk back into your dorm to a chorus of cheering ghosts

"....A kiss...? Wow...."

Epel

Epel’s eyes met yours as fireworks seemingly erupt in his head

he rushed (undignified in Vil’s opinion) to you and softly grasped your gloved hand between two of his own

He presses a kiss to your glove as he confidently raises his voice

“Can I dance with you? I’ll be a good partner!”

(You swear you can see steam come out of Vil's ears at his abrupt question)

as Epel dances with you, he makes sure to keep the mood light and fun with a couple jokes and jabs at the professors expenses

his movements are quick as he guides the dance, but he makes sure to keep at a similar tempo to you so you don't look strange

the two of you are definitely the 'it couple' at the Ball, with your looks and attire

Epel gets bored of the attention quite quickly, and the two of you end the night somewhere quieter, like the calm balcony of the ballroom

he tells you stories of the perilous prep Vil and Rook made him do before the dancing, how hard it was to learn the old style of waltz they preferred

"It was horrible, but I guess it was all worth it, seeing how much fun you had and everything..."

The two of you part ways when Vil sweeps him away for pictures, but he promises to dance with you again when the chance arrives

Jack

His breath hitches in his throat as he sees you, his pace quick as he walks up to you with a mildly dazed expression

“Um, could I dance with you? If it’s alright with you of course…”

As the music softens, Jack becomes painfully aware of how soft and beautiful you are, and decides to treat you like a piece of glass

his hands hover, and his red face is tucked into your shoulder as the slow dancing begins

the closeness between the two of you is tender and kind, and he eventually loosens up a little as the pace of the cello gets steadily quicker

Jack's radiant smile as the two of you dance together is so perfectly domestic, you begin to ignore everything else

the two of you focus on only one another, and he loves hearing your soft laughter as he spins you in the air

since our wolf is one strong boy, he'll adore spinning and lifting you in your long luscious ballgown

"Hold on to my shoulders, I'll lift you up."

the night ends with him escorting you back to Ramshackle, his hand in yours as he grows more comfortable with physical affection

however, when you press a kiss to his cheek, Jack flusters again and rubs the back of his neck

"You look really beautiful tonight, and I had a really nice time dancing with you."

Sebek

A startled gasp catches in Sebek’s throat as Lilia pushes him to the front of the crowd and presents him to you

“Human! May I please have the honor of being your first dance partner tonight?”

the music is a lively tempo, Sebek looks straight ahead with perfect posture, dancing as if it means life or death

His serious demeanor is a little funny at first, but breaks pretty easily when he realizes how romantic the moment is

He calms down and acts more down to earth for the rest of the night, something that is truly a rare sight

His grip on your waist loosens a little bit as he hears the music slowly descend into a lower volume

Sebek sighs a little as he checks the time, knowing that the two of you have been dancing for hours

he strongly suggests that the two of you spend some time away from the commotion of the party (ironic coming from the loudest thing in the room)

You two spend an hour walking through the ornate halls of the ballroom, with him excitedly boasting about how the ballrooms in the Valley of Thorns far exceed the one you're in

"Perhaps, I may accompany you to the next big occasion..."

Sebek walks you back home slowly, trying to preserve some sweet time with you until you must part for the night

As you step onto the stairs to bid him farewell, you press a kiss onto his cheek, and he blushes a stark red; his mouth opens to speak but no words come out

for once in his life, Sebek is completely speechless.

☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾

The cool night air that filters through the cracked windows of Ramshackle house serves to calm you down after a long night of dancing and socializing. You laid on the dusty couch, still clad in your oversized ballgown, sparkling in the dim candlelight.

Grim was asleep beside you, his warm fluffy fur pressed against your arm, and his gentle purring made your painted eyelids flutter with tiredness.

You thought back at the unforgettable night, dancing in his arms was a memory to cherish forever.

As you shook your arm to try and remove Grim, you realized he wouldn't budge, succumbing to your fate, you smiled and closed your eyes.

A wonderful ending to a wonderful night.

a.n/ Prof. Trein would be such a great father figure.

[youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal]

Baby, It's Cold Outside

AO3

Summary: Soren is cold because of the dark magic in his body, but he has a very warm boyfriend. Corvus can't help but wonder why his boyfriend is always so cold and has inexplicable scars.

Note: I was listening to my Sorvus playlist as I wrote, and Good Love by Aly & AJ came on and I realized it fit the vibes of this fic perfectly. I then played it on repeat for most of while I was writing. So, listen to that while reading if you want the full experience.

I honestly debated titling the piece after that song, but decided I couldn't pass up a good pun.

Inspired by @multifandom-nerds-blog's headcanons that Soren is cold and has scars because of the dark magic used on him in the past. Mix that with waking up cold every morning in the winter. Thus, a fic is born.

...

Soren couldn’t help it. He was almost always freezing. The dark magic in his veins guaranteed it. 

Except, somehow, right before bed. Even in the middle of winter, he’d have to take most of his layers off before laying down, because otherwise he’d never be able to fall asleep. 

Especially if he wanted to fall asleep cuddled into Corvus; he’d quickly get too warm. Even if they ended up on separate sides of the bed by the morning (because Soren couldn’t stay still in sleep, either), falling asleep in each other's arms helped to ward off the nightmares. Half the time he even woke up with all of his blankets crumpled at the foot of the bed because he’d kicked them off. Corvus was quickly learning to keep a death grip, even in sleep, on any blanket he actually wanted to keep on him.

So, on the night of the first freeze of the winter season in Katolis, Soren went through his usual nighttime routine of lavender scented skin and hair care products. He’d already put on his lightest pair of pajamas, not thinking about the weather; his only concern had been how quickly he could get out of his heavy armor and into Corvus’s waiting arms. It was Soren’s night to be the little spoon, and it had been a long day.

Soren stopped in the doorway to their bedroom and watched Corvus, mesmerized by the way the lamplight reflected on his skin. He was sitting in their bed, under the covers, working on perfecting his next cello piece.

“You look deep in thought,” Soren said, breaking Corvus’s concentration.

Corvus didn’t look up, but he couldn’t help his smile. “I’ve got a great muse.”

Soren’s face turned red.

Corvus let the words hang for a beat before he continued. “Yeah, you know, Pyrrah’s been really inspirational recently.”

Soren had been making his way across the room and stopped. He made the confused, deep-in-thought face that Corvus lovingly referred to as his “wait for it” expression. Then came the “realization” face.

“Was that… a joke?” Soren asked after a moment, Corvus’s dry sense of humor dawning on him.

Corvus put the papers on his bedside table with a wry grin. “It was! What did you think?”

Soren practically pounced on the man waiting for him in bed. Corvus let out an “oof” of air at Soren’s landing - like a big dog, sometimes Soren forgot how large he actually was.

 “It’s not funny when you joke about me,” he pouted into Corvus’s chest dramatically, words muffled by fabric and skin. On instinct, Corvus wrapped his arms around Soren.

“Soren, you know nothing compares to the awe you inspire in me.” Corvus ran his fingers through the silky blond hair tickling his chin. Now he’d also smell like lavender all night.

Soren’s head popped up with a grin. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Corvus rolled his eyes and tried not to smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched, unable to hide his amusement. Soren let Corvus’s hand on the back of his head guide him into a gentle kiss.

“Hi,” Soren breathed when they broke apart, forehead to forehead.

“Hi.”

Soren, abruptly breaking the quiet moment, rolled off of him and scrambled under the covers. “Okay, time for bed. Hold me!”

Corvus barked out a laugh. “Geez, aren’t you demanding this evening.”

Still, Corvus did just as Soren specifically requested, quickly snuffing out his lamp, laying down, and wrapping his arms around Soren from behind.

“Well, as Head Crownguard -”

“Don’t.”

“You know you love me,” Soren said, snuggling back into Corvus’s warmth. Soren tangled their hands together and brought Corvus’s free hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on whatever skin was nearest as he closed his eyes.

“I really do.”

…

Corvus was used to sleeping in the roughest of terrain. On the forest floor, in the mountains, in a tree - really, just about anywhere. He didn’t even need a tent or a sleeping mat because being a tracker meant being discreet and able to pack up quickly.

What was he not used to?

Waking up with his freezing boyfriend clinging to him for dear life on a cold winter morning.

“Soren…?” he asked groggily, eyes adjusting to the early rays of sunlight shining through their window. He turned his head and met icy blue eyes. “Are you okay? Did you just sneeze?”

Soren nodded minutely, digging his fingers deeper into Corvus’s side. “Yup. Because of the light. But I’m okay, just currently feeling a bit like an icicle.”

“Then why don’t you have a blanket on?”

“Too cold to move.”

Corvus rolled his eyes and sat up. Soren whined, but due to his grip on Corvus, sat up too. Corvus reached over to dislodge Soren’s hands from his side so he could stand up to get Soren another shirt and fix the blankets, but a small “Don’t go…” stopped him.

Corvus’s annoyance melted away as he felt his heart clench.

“Darling, I’m not going anywhere, I just want to help,” Corvus said, dropping a kiss on Soren’s forehead.

Soren vehemently shook his head, burying his head in the crook of Corvus’s neck and wrapping his legs around Corvus’s, forcing him to stay down. Corvus gasped at the shock of Soren’s freezing nose and cold toes against sensitive skin. He relented with a sigh, reaching towards the bottom of the bed for the mixture of sheets and blankets that Soren had crumpled there.

Corvus brought the blankets up, tucking them around Soren as best he could, and stretched towards his folded scarf on his bedside table, sending his papers scattering to the floor. He sighed. He’d have to pick all of those up later and put them back in order.

The things he did for this man.

“Soren, I will need you to extricate yourself from my body for a moment if you want to wear my scarf.”

Soren relented, loosening his grasp by a fraction. His eyes were bright. “It’s too early to figure out what ‘extra-kate’ means, but I heard the word scarf. I get to wear it?!”

Corvus nodded. Judging by Soren’s reaction, you’d think Corvus never let his partner borrow it, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Corvus loved seeing Soren in his scarf. It brought out his eyes and, honestly, a part of him loved knowing that people would see Soren in it and know they were together. That this goofy, fascinating man was his goofy, fascinating man. The man who balanced him out and inexplicably complemented his personality almost perfectly.

Corvus had also taken to leaving his scarf with Soren when either of them had a mission away. Soren, on the other hand, always sent Corvus with his favorite dragon plushie. Sometimes Soren would wear the scarf the whole trip. Or sometimes only at night, like how Corvus would sleep with Soren’s stuffed dragon beside him. It helped ease the ache of being apart.

Soren acted like this every time because he knew how important the scarf was to Corvus and treated each time he got to use it with reverence.

Soren finally released Corvus from his grasp, sitting up next to him, but kept their legs tangled together. Soren tried to keep his face serious, but Corvus still thought he looked like a kid about to get their birthday presents (to be fair, Soren also looked like that when he was about to get his birthday presents).

Corvus carefully looped the scarf around Soren’s neck, using adjusting it as an excuse to touch him. He couldn’t help but notice that the lightning-like scarring across Soren’s torso seemed to be more prominent than usual in the cold. He held his tongue, not wanting to ruin this moment that almost felt sacred.

But of course, Soren tracked Corvus’s eyes to his scars.

…

Most everybody knew Soren ran cold, but most did not know the reasoning. Not Corvus. Not even Ezran and Callum, who actually knew bits and pieces of the “why,” since they grew up together.

Not that he didn’t want to share it with Corvus. But his past and his family were so - ironically - cold and dark. Whereas what he had with Corvus was so good and bright and warm. He didn’t want to taint it by bringing up the past. Every other time Corvus had inquired about his scarring, he’d found a way to change the subject. Or distract Corvus with a kiss.

Of course, Corvus noticed him dodging the question, but he respected Soren’s need to reveal things in his own time. And he’d gladly be distracted by Soren’s mouth anytime.

The light filtering through the window made Soren feel… safe. Time felt like it was suspended, as if what happened now wouldn’t really count in the glaringly bright light of a winter’s day.

Which he knew was ridiculous. If this conversation was about to happen, it’s not like Corvus would somehow forget as soon as they officially woke up for the day.

But wrapped up in blankets, his boyfriend’s scarf, and with Corvus’s grounding presence next to him, Soren felt like maybe it was time.

Plus, Corvus was staring at his scars with that face he got when he was really committing things to memory. Usually he loved when Corvus looked at him with that face - it made him feel… wanted. Handsome. Precious. A thousand other feelings he didn’t have words for.

But this time, it just made him want to tell Corvus everything.

“Hey, I see you ogling my muscles,” Soren grinned, joking to try and psych himself up for what he wanted to talk about. “I’m just kidding. You can stare at them as much as you want.”

Soren followed up his statement with a dramatic flex of an arm and a wink, then a kiss to Corvus’s cheek. He could feel the heat from Corvus’s flushed face against his cool lips. 

“You know what ‘ogling’ means?” Corvus asked, raising an eyebrow once he’d managed to compose himself a bit.

“Of course I do,” he responded haughtily. “I read romance books.”

Corvus smiled softly, endlessly amused by his partner, which led Soren’s boisterous grin to turn into a genuine smile. Soren put a hand to Corvus’s right cheek and ran his thumb gently along his eyebrow scar. Corvus closed his eyes and nuzzled into the touch.

“Okay, but in all seriousness,” Soren started quietly. If he didn’t do this now, he feared he never would. “I can see the question in your eyes and I… I think I’m ready.”

Corvus nodded. He didn’t want to say anything and disturb the moment. They broke apart, and Corvus leaned back against the headboard, ready for Soren to continue when he was ready.

“So, you may or may not know that I was a pretty sickly child.”

Another nod in response. Soren and others around the castle had alluded to it previously, but he didn’t know much else.

“But what you don’t know is that… I wasn’t getting better. As a child, I couldn’t… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t play with Claudia without having a coughing fit or walk to the kitchen without wheezing. I was dying, Corvus.”

Soren heard his childhood mantra in his head. In through your nose, out through your mouth. He felt Corvus slip an arm around his shoulders and Soren leaned into the touch.

“But then, one day when I hadn’t been able to get out of bed for weeks… Poof. It was gone. I could breathe. I could run. I was like a new man - er, well, boy. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but that was the day these showed up,” he said, gesturing to his chest. “My being cold wasn’t as bad back then, when dark magic had only been used on me once.”

Soren heard Corvus’s intake of breath, fingers squeezing into Soren’s shoulder.

“Once?” Corvus asked, tentatively.

Soren nodded. “Yup. That was… that was the first time. But I didn’t realize what had saved me from my breathing sickness until the second time. Viren never told me how I got better, and I never thought to question it until I was grown and... and truly saw what he'd turned into.

“So, this next part you’ve definitely heard about. It was when I taunted Pyrrah in that town. When me and Clauds had you captured. While you were off being your gentlemanly self, saving the day and tracking the princes - or, well, king and prince, I guess - I was… taunting Pyrrah, yet again. We got into a bit of a fight and… well, let’s just say my armor couldn’t protect me from being thrown across a field and hitting my spine against a sharp rock.”

Corvus had indeed heard about it, but assumed the stories he’d heard about Soren’s injuries must have just been overly exaggerated. He was quickly learning that they were, in fact, not.

“I was paralyzed. Clauds tried everything she could, but nothing changed. I’d accepted it. That’s when I got the idea to reinvent myself as a poet, actually. But Claudia… she wouldn’t, couldn’t accept it. They kicked her out of the doctor’s office. I don’t know what she did while she was gone, but when she came back, she had this spell that made me start moving again.”

Soren unconsciously wiggled his fingers. Corvus took that as an invitation to grab his hand. When he felt how cold Soren’s hand was, he gave it a squeeze of encouragement and started rubbing the hand between his to help Soren warm up.

“That’s when her hair started going white,” Soren continued softly. “And that’s when the scars on my back showed up. I was cold to the touch from that day on. It took a little bit for me to put all the pieces together, but I eventually realized dark magic was inside me, and it had been that way for a while. I asked Viren as much when I was still on his side, and he confirmed it.”

Soren took a deep breath. He no longer felt like an icicle, and a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “So, yeah.” He met Corvus’s eyes. “Dark magic is the reason I’m alive today.”

…

Soren had ended up in Corvus’s arms as the story went on, and Corvus looked down at him, buried under blankets, in wonder. He’d joked the night before that Soren left him awestruck, but it was truer every day. The more Corvus learned about his partner and his past, the more he admired how strong he was to get up and start every day with a smile on his face.

No wonder Soren had such complex feelings surrounding magic as a whole. Dark magic had saved him and let him stay a member of the Crownguard, but it had also taken away his family and harmed so many.

Corvus couldn’t help but be selfishly grateful for it, since it meant Soren was around to lounge in bed with him like this. He couldn’t fathom a world without Soren’s vibrance in it.

“Soren, you never fail to astound me,” Corvus said, leaning in to kiss Soren’s no-longer-ice-cold nose.

“Aw, thanks babe. Back at you.” A moment of silence. “I think. What exactly does astound mean?”

“Amazing. Wondrous. Incredible.”

Soren’s cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink, and Corvus couldn’t help but give him a kiss. Soren shivered, and not because of the cold.

One kiss turned into multiple when Soren wrapped his arms around Corvus’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair, grasping at his back. Corvus tried to convey all of the love he felt for Soren, how glad he was that Soren was alive, into every touch of his hands, every brush of their lips.

“You know, I could think of some other ways you could help me stay warm…” Soren said once they broke apart, Corvus hovering over him. Soren followed up his statement with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

“Soren!” Corvus chided, shoving lightly at his shoulder. “We have work soon.”

 Soren shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Corvus pressed a kiss to that same shoulder, snuggling into Soren as they laid back down to rest for a little while longer. “I didn’t say never. We have plenty more cold mornings in our future.”

“Yay!”

After that, they went quiet, enjoying each other's company. Corvus lay on top of Soren, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. That big, beautiful heart of his. It was strong and sure, even through the fabric of Soren’s pajamas. It was the most beautiful sound Corvus had ever heard.

Corvus waited so long to say anything, he thought Soren might have fallen back to sleep. 

“Darling?” he asked quietly, looking up at Soren’s face.

“Hmm?” came the groggy reply, eyes blearily blinking open.

“Thank you. For telling me. I know how difficult that was for you.”

“You make everything easier…” Soren said with a tender smile, sentence trailing off as his eyes closed once again. In moments, his breathing evened out.

Corvus brought the blankets up a little higher around them and closed his eyes.

...

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading!!

I tried to handle the topic of Soren being paralyzed as delicately as I could. I don't think he views it as a bad thing or that he was "saved" from it in the same way as his breathing sickness and I hope I portrayed that well.

Also, I personally imagine Soren's scarring to be kind of like Nora Valkyrie from RWBY after Volume 8!

My personal headcanon is that Corvus actually loves Soren’s little nicknames after they get together, but he just likes to keep them between them <3 and when Corvus is feeling especially affectionate he will also drop a pet name, which leaves Soren glowing for the rest of the day. And Corvus is almost always feeling especially affectionate when alone with Soren. Hence, multiple pet name drops this fic.

Also, Soren being a romance book reader is a headcanon originally thought up by the incredible jomipay on AO3/@halfofmysoulistrees on Tumblr. It's canon in my heart.

[chryza]

I love Horn as a character so much because of how completely totally clinically insane she is but she’s so good at hiding it that you’d never know unless you thought to look. And I think a lot of people overlook that in favor of “angry lady who explodes things” which is absolutely an accurate characterization but like.

Rita could have absolutely been a nepo baby, she’s like a countess or some shit, the Skamandroses are old Victorian money but in the fashion of her family name said “Nah fuck that” and joined the army until she earned her place into an elite squadron as a commander no less. Beloved and trusted by her platoon whom she gave everything she possibly had and it was her life. I think for her, being a soldier was what she could do. She was drawn to the structure of it, even if she didn’t necessarily think so highly of the institution. She wanted to fight and so she went to war teeth bared.

She adheres strictly to discipline and rules and order and she finds comfort in the routine and orderly. If something doesn’t fit into the boxes she knows she will make it fit or discard it. Her values are nigh unshakeable, but it is…interesting to see what she actually values. Protecting those who cannot defend themselves, fighting for the people she knows and loves, desperately trying to rein in the chaos she stumbles through as Victoria eats itself alive. I think growing up as the daughter of a count gave her that insight—Victoria, the empire, isn’t something worth defending. She would have been privy to the political upheaval and grown up alongside the coup that overthrew the Steam Knights and the monarchy. So of course she doesn’t fight for king or country. But fighting to maintain order, to halt corruption, to save the lives of individuals? That she can do. “For the greater good” is anathema to the paradigm that guides her life.

Of course, she has lost control of herself. Bagpipe mentions her interrogating a serial bomber and being so violent she left marks the imprisonment device (likely similar to the ones we see in Mansfield). Her files mention her family’s originium arts grant them combat prowess, at the the expense of their own selves, and it’s something she’s tapped into again and again.

And then the fucking County Hillock incident happened.

In the span of 24 hours she loses her friends one by one and is betrayed by her superiors. So now you’re looking at this kamikazee of a woman who is fueled by rage and vengeance alone because they took everything else that kept her going—her squadron, her friends, her faith in the Victorian army, her faith in her ideals. The only thing left to her was screaming in fury as she literally destroyed her own body in an attempt to get revenge. If she had her way, she would have gone down in that fight and been another name on that memorial. She sent Bagpipe away so that at least there was something left because god knew it wasn’t about to be her. At what point was it even about honor or some bullshit everyone else around her seemed to have abandoned? It wasn’t about deservedness or justice or righteousness. It was just ‘the army and Dublinn killed her squadmates Mandragora killed Cello’ and someone was going to pay.

She truly didn’t expect to survive and to her it was probably crueler that she did.

[inkandincantations]

Draco x Reader: First Kiss

This is a part of my fanfiction that I am currently writing. I have not gotten to this part yet, but I love the idea of posting all of the things that spark joy for me, so that I have these moments to look forward to when I eventually get there. This is a (possibly) condensed version of what I plan to write in the future.

Backstory needed for this imagine:

You and Draco (technically my MC) are just friends

He has asked her to attend a Winter Ball

They are both professors in a post-war era Hogwarts

I decided to lean into the posh, silver spoon side of his life

Scene inspired by the song Be More by Stephen Sanchez

Happy reading!

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The Winter Ball was steadily approaching and Draco was even more fastidious than usual. First it was the matching of their outfits, down to the exact hue and stitch. Then, it was the accessories, which he so meticulously picked to bring out the undertones in your skin. Now, dancing was his newest fixation. Which was why you found yourself in your quarters, the sun setting outside, as Draco guided you through a particularly tricky movement that you just couldn’t seem to get right.

“Can’t we take a break?” you groaned, shoulders slumping over in frustration. Draco could sense the shift in the room, letting go of your hands.

“You’re doing great,” he assured, voice soft and encouraging.

“And you’re doing perfectly. Like usual.” It was a trait of his that absolutely infuriated you. Whether it was penmanship or letter formatting or brewing an advanced potion, Draco could do it effortlessly. There wasn’t a single task he performed that wasn’t laced with elegance and aristocracy, flawless without breaking a sweat.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t forced to attend galas,” he pointed out, turning towards the radio that sat on your end table. Classical music was drifting from it, a symphony of cellos and violins that Draco insisted was the finest piece ever made in the wizarding world.

He turned a few dials, tuning into more conventional songs. Celestina Warbeck drifted across the way, filling your living area with a casual ambience. Draco waved his hand over the burning candles, darkening the room as he snuffed them one by one. Smoke curled lazily in the air as you gently wrapped your fingers around the handle of your teacup.

You took a sip and immediately frowned. It had gone cold.

“Do you want a cup?” you asked, already heading towards the kettle on your stove.

“Making another? You just had a full one there,” Draco commented.

“Yeah, well, when someone makes you practice dancing for hours, it has this tendency to cool,” you teased. “Who would’ve thought?”

Draco chuckled at this. “I’d love one if you don’t mind.”

You prepared for the tedious job of crafting a tea to his liking. There was a specific cup he preferred, the only elegant one that you owned, jet black with a delicate gold rim and handle. It was nothing compared to the deep emerald set he sat out on his coffee table– much too expensive to just be a decoration piece in his living area.

You carefully measured the jasmine oolong, just as he had taught you, and steeped the tea to perfection. Once it had cooled just enough, you handed it to Draco, who accepted it with a smirk.

“I did everything that you do. I promise,” you told him.

He nodded his head ever so slightly, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “I’m sure you did.”

“You’re insufferable, you know?” As you turned to fix your own, much simpler, cup of tea, you continued on your rant. “A simple thank you is in order. I practically crafted an elixir.”

“To be fair, that’s probably easier,” he teased, taking a cautious sip. You couldn’t help but giggle, despite yourself. The tension of the earlier dance practice was fading, replaced by the easy comfort of Draco’s presence.

You wiped your hands on the tea towel hanging from the stove. Like everything else in your kitchen, it was a bit worn. The ends were becoming frayed and there were tiny stains that wouldn’t come out with any amount of scrubbing. But the pattern was homey, golden bumblebees patterned over a pastel honeycomb background, and it made you ill to think about tossing it.

“So,” you started, watching Draco intently for any sign of disapproval, “how did I do? Honestly?”

“You did well, truly. I’m actually quite impressed with how fast you learned.” You searched his face for that signature smirk, the twinkle in his eye that let you know he was joking. However, neither of those things were present.

“I’m worried about doing it in heels,” you admitted, picturing all the possible disasters in your mind.

“We have plenty of time to work on it. You’ll do just fine,” he said with a tiny smile.

“And the dress…It’s so long. I’m going to trip and fall flat on my face.” The kettle squealed, steam heating your face as you took it off and poured another cup of Earl Grey.

“You know I wouldn’t let that happen. I have a reputation.” You scoffed at this. A typical response from him. You were annoyed that you still found it funny.

“What a git,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Pardon?” Draco questioned, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. “I’m delightful.”

“Is that what they call it?” The two of you shared a laugh, the earlier tension now completely gone. Your relationship had evolved so much from when you first met him—aloof and cold, now replaced with moments of warmth and light. You noticed it in the small things, like how he greeted students by name or cleaned up after dinner without prompting. And especially in the way he glanced at you from across the hall, trying to stay focused on his own work.

Especially when he did that.

You sipped your tea in pleasant silence. When nothing needed to be said, nothing was said. You appreciated that about him. Everything was purposeful. When he talked, it was important, full of intent and chosen carefully. He never felt the need to fill it with useless conversation.

“Are you–humming?” you suddenly asked after a long stretch of stillness.

“Oh, sorry. Am I?” he asked, slightly embarrassed.

You tilted your head, listening more closely to the song playing through the radio. The notes matched. “Do you know this song?”

Draco nodded once more. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“‘You mean to tell me you like songs with words?” you teased.

“I’m full of surprises,” he said with a shrug.

You noticed the slight sway in his body, the drumming of his fingers against his thigh. His head gently moved back and forth, keeping in perfect time with the beat. He seemed so human, lost in a single moment with nothing but honesty. It made your heart swell full of endearment.

You set your cup down beside you, filling your empty hands with his. His eyes followed your every move as you held onto them softly, positioning yourself the way he had taught you. You remembered the first couple of steps, which Draco matched immaculately, before he took the lead in your absence.

The remaining candlelight flickered across his face, casting warm shadows that danced in his eyes, making them seem almost golden. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the rest of your worries melting away with the dimming flames.

You couldn’t help but notice how perfectly his hand fit in yours, how natural it felt to be this close. His breath quickened ever so slightly, though he tried to mask it. You shut your eyes, hoping to calm your own racing heart, but it only heightened your awareness of everything—his hand tightening at your waist, the subtle shift of his body as he closed the space between you.

The rhythmic breathing of his chest started to quicken, though it would have gone by unnoticed if you weren’t so aware of everything he was doing. You clamped your eyes shut, thinking maybe you were imagining things, trying to hide from the vulnerability you were both exuding. But it only sharpened your senses as you felt the hand on your waist tighten ever so slightly.

Your heart stuttered, bodies closing the minute gap that kept you apart, kept you from crossing that threshold past being friends. You were holding each other now, rocking back and forth, a dance he hadn’t taught you yet. One that you were sure he never anticipated having to address.

Your heart skipped a beat. You were no longer just dancing. You were holding each other now, moving in a rhythm neither of you had planned for. The song was winding down, its final notes lingering in the air, but you didn’t want it to end. You wanted to stay in this moment a little longer, to hold onto the warmth of his touch and the possibility that this could be more than friendship.

When your eyes finally met, it was as if the world held its breath. Draco leaned in, moving with agonizing slowness, giving you just enough time to process what was about to happen. After all the teasing, the lingering glances, and the feelings you’d tried so hard to suppress, it became crystal clear—he had felt the same way all along. And now, he was going to kiss you.

His lips brushed yours like a whisper, barely a touch, soft and cautious. It was light, tentative, almost as if he were asking permission. The moment you leaned into him, your movements gentle, he exhaled softly, his hand slipping to your back to hold you a little closer, but it wasn’t urgent—it was tender, patient.

The kiss stayed soft, more of a promise than a declaration, full of quiet emotion. It felt like a secret shared between just the two of you, a moment suspended in time. His thumb gently brushed the curve of your back, a subtle, grounding touch, as if he wanted to hold onto this fragile, perfect moment just a little longer.

The air around you shifted as you pulled away, leaving the two of you staring at each other in a mix of disbelief and uncertainty. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Draco belonged to a different world, one that could never truly accept you. And you were carefully balancing a professional career against this budding, complicated relationship. None of it made sense.

But it felt right. As if, for a moment, those barriers didn’t matter—like you could overcome the past and the present and create something entirely new together. Standing here, in the quiet after that kiss, you were forced to acknowledge that everything had changed. There was no going back.

[lighthaunting]

DoA Imagines (GN!Reader) | Love Languages and Dates

CHARACTERS - Fyodor, Nikolai/Mykola, Sigma

A/N: yes this is definitely out of character but i love writing fluff and the most ungodly sappy romance imaginable, your honor. got me giggling and kicking my legs and shit

Fyodor

Likes words of affirmation and giving gifts.

Not the greatest at outwardly speaking of his feelings, at least not as much as he’d like to.

If he needs to leave early in the morning before you’ve woken up, don’t be surprised if you wake up to the most eloquently written and poetic love letter you’ve ever seen in your life.

Not the greatest talker, more of a listener, but when he writes to you, he writes.

Because he’s a good listener (not to mention his brilliant memory), he’s good at giving gifts.

If you offhandedly mention a nice ring, piece of clothing, etc? He is committing that to memory for future gift giving.

Prefers receiving more practical gifts; likes things he can use in his everyday life rather than luxury objects.

Generally prefers staying in for dates, or at least quiet, peaceful places if you do both decide to go out.

Picnics under a tree in a field in the middle of nowhere, nothing more than some wine, a charcuterie board and casual conversation to pass the time, maybe a book or two.

Not much of a touchy-feely type, prefers more subtle things, might link his pinky with yours while he reads or does a bit of paperwork.

Isn’t the greatest at initiating touch, but likes to give forehead kisses, likes the simplicity of it.

Gets noticeably more clingy in the winter, even he notices it, but he pretends he doesn’t. He gets cold easily, and your hands are probably warmer than his.

If you don’t know how to play the cello already, he’d gladly teach you about it. He makes a wonderful tutor and he’s very patient when teaching you, and he certainly won’t object to holding your hands to guide you on how to move the cello bow.

(Okay this one’s just a joke but I bet he goes to sleep with a night gown and a little night cap on his head. bet he goes snore mimimimi when he sleeps)

Nikolai (Mykola)

Likes words of affirmation and physical touch.

Expect consistent compliments, he has no shame and won’t hesitate to gush about you, whether it’s just to you or anyone else who will listen.

If you’re the one complimenting him, he may get just a tad bashful. He’s not shy by any means, but you may notice he’ll avert eye contact with a huge grin on his face.

Loves referring to you with terms of endearment, but in public he will purposely give you the most ungodly and obnoxious petnames imaginable just because he thinks it’s hilarious, especially if you get embarrassed over it.

Definitely wants to test how many times he can refer to you as ‘snookums’ in a public setting before you start swatting at him.

Loves holding hands and being close to you in general.

Likes having his hair messed with or being helped with his braid, will fall dead asleep on your lap within a few minutes if you’re not careful.

Likes going on dates in more lively places, especially if it’s somewhere he can properly explore.

Naturally pretty energetic, so expect to go to an amusement park or arcade at least once.

You bet he wants a cliche ferris wheel kiss (so long as you’re not afraid of heights, of course).

Once halloween rolls around you’re definitely getting taken to a haunted house with him (he’ll do a remarkable job at keeping you from being scared in the event you are, would 100% find ways to make you laugh throughout it).

Escape room dates !! He’d have so much fun with you, and he’s absolutely going to make sure you feel the same way.

Good luck trying to get out of bed at a reasonable time from now on, he will wrap around you like a koala to try and keep you there longer. Complains very audibly from across the room if you do manage to escape his grasp.

Sigma

Unlike the other two, probably has more of a random mix of love languages, doesn’t usually stick to or prefer receiving just one kind.

Ultimately, he just likes you and spending whatever time with you he can.

Scarily observational, will pick up on your every mood and does his best to help you when you’re having a bad day.

Definitely the type to pick up on the fact you texted him slightly differently that day and gets you something from your favorite restaurant on his way back from the casino to try and cheer you up.

Loves cooking and baking with you, and he’s pretty great at it, too.

Cookie baking dates over cups of tea on a rainy day.

Adores trying new hobbies in general, especially if it’s with you. Tries to start up a little vegetable garden, or maybe even something like painting or pottery.

Absolutely lives for the super cheesy romance movie type dates. If the weather is nice, he likes to explore the outdoors and seeing what the world has to offer, so long as you’re by his side.

Driving two hours into the middle of nowhere to go stargazing with a clear view, exploring a flower meadow, finding the best spot to watch a sunset, etc.

Not very used to receiving gifts due to his situation with the book and DoA, so he’s very flattered (and maybe just a bit bashful) at any gifts you give him.

A bit hesitant to initiate physical affection at the beginning of the relationship, but as he gets more relaxed he likes being close to you. Will gladly give you a tour around the casino with your arm linked with his or his arm around your waist, if you’d like.

Very good at formal dancing. Romantic slow dancing in the middle of the night, moonlight shining down from the grand windows of his office in the casino.

[obetrolncocktails]

Ignition | Danny Wagner X f!Reader X Jake Kiszka | Part 6

Warnings: Minors absolutely DNI! blindfolding, DANNY PLAYING CELLO, graphic sexual descriptions, heavy petting, semi-public sex, getting caught having said sex, unprotected sex, penetration, oral m. receiving, teasing, edging, fluff, Jake angst.

Word Count: 6,000

A/N: THIS CHAPTER WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!!! As a classical musician, I indulged with making Danny play cello. Also loved the smut hehehe

Summary: Danny is fun and exciting--more so than you had ever thought. He's sexy and dependable, and he makes your knees weak...yet old ghosts still remain.

Have you read part 5?

Listen to the Ignition Spotify playlist!

PSSSSST: This is the song that Danny plays at the beginning of the chapter. Saint-Saens: Le Cygne

“Where are we?” You asked Danny, squeezing his hand as he led you down what seemed like fifty strangely deep stairs. He had put a blindfold on you while he drove, and you’d jokingly warned him that you knew the number to 911. “You’re a smart girl,” he chuckled, fastening the cloth behind your head. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Just take your time while we’re walking,” he continued, taking your hand in one of his, holding onto your shoulder with the other. “Okay,” he said after more stairs as he arrived, you assumed, at your destination. He continued to walk with you before finally pausing a few moments later. “Sit here,” he said. You could hear him pulling at something that elicited a loud squeak in the room. You began to squat, feeling particularly awkward. “It’s okay,” he chuckled, guiding you down into the seat. 

“Danny, there are very few things I hate in life. This is very much one of them,” You groaned, reaching to fiddle with your blindfold.

“Ahh!” His fingers flitted upward to fix the blindfold himself. “Don’t you dare!” 

“Okay, okay!” 

“I told you it’s a surprise,” he chuckled. “Okay. I’ll be right back. Stay there and don’t move.”

“Well, seems as I can’t see, I don’t plan on it,” you grinned. 

“That mouth is gonna get you in trouble,” he chuckled, stepping away from you. As he walked, you could hear the slight creaking of the floor and a few moments later, something scraping across it. You heard him messing with something and adjusting in place before finally speaking. 

“Okay, you can take it off,” he said quietly, his voice echoing off of the walls. As you removed the cloth from your face, you waited for your eyes to adjust. It took you a moment, but you realized that you were in a beautiful recital hall, the entire room darkened except for a single spotlight that shone brightly on Danny, who held a cello between his knees. 

“Wh-what?” You asked, your voice and expression scrunched with confusion. The music cut you off as he drew the bow across the strings for the first time, lacing thick, decadent ribbons of sound through the air, hypnotizing you in your seat. You’d heard this piece before, but knew that you couldn’t name it if you’d tried. The tone was luxurious, possessing a depth of beauty and sound that suspended you in place. You watched as Danny’s eyes closed, his fingers moving over the neck of the cello with graceful confidence, like he’d done this a million times. His fingers shook against the strings to coax vibrato out of them, his other hand delicately beckoning the melody from the instrument through each long stroke of his bow. His face loosened in parts of the piece, intensifying in others. You watched every movement before making the realization that his expressions often mimicked the way he looked at the height of intimacy, and your thoughts wandered, reimagining the way he touched you. Your heart pounded in your chest as the erotic image flooded your mind, accompanied by Danny’s song. It took you another few moments to realize that in his mind, Danny was most likely making love to the music, expressing through it his deepest, most ardent thoughts and feelings, and you silently wondered if they might include you. 

The spotlight shown over the instrument, bouncing off of the glossy wood into the rest of the hall. The way that the lights were positioned over Danny’s face created gentle shadows from curve of his nose, casting soft fractals across his face as he played. He was beautiful, and in your eyes, he’d never seemed more radiant than in this moment. His mind, body and soul was enraptured in music that was more than a century old, but was nothing but effortlessly timeless. In a moment of abandon, you felt a familiar ache rise in your throat, and before you knew it, you were silently swiping tears from your cheeks. 

You listened, letting your own eyes close as he encircled you in the musical richness, until, just like any embrace, it had to end, and the final note dissipated through the hall with longing and romance until it dissolved into nothingness, leaving you and Danny hovering upon the heavy silence. 

“I had no idea you could play the cello,” you admitted with an impressed scoff. “That was fucking beautiful,” you said, reaching to wipe away the tears from the corners of your eyes. 

“I made you cry?” He asked, standing up from his chair and setting the instrument to the side on its stand.

“No,” you said defensively. “Don’t look at me like that,” you grinned. 

“I’m just looking at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, what’s the harm in that?” He asked, stepping off the stage toward you. 

“How are you a real, living and breathing human, Danny Wagner?” you asked him, standing to join him, reaching to take fistfuls of his sweater to pull him downward to you in your seat. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes moving to yours, his dark lashes casting soft shadows over his face in the dimness of the room. His fingers lifted to gently sweep away the tears. 

“I mean that you are so incredibly sexy, and thoughtful,” you continued, feeling his hands move to pull you close against him by the curve of your ass. 

“Keep going,” he murmured quietly, his eyebrows rising softly with interest. 

“You get off on the compliments, don’t you?” You grinned, looking up at him. 

“Mm, maybe just a smidge, but only if it’s you saying them.” 

“Well, if you must know, I love how romantic you are. How cool it is that you play the fucking cello like a pro and never thought to tell me–”

“It’s not something I usually advertise,” he shrugged. “Sam knows, but that’s because we grew up together. It was either band, orchestra, or sports. I ended up choosing orchestra. So yeah, I’ve always been a nerd.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I think…” you smoothed your hands over his chest, feeling the contour of his pecs, “that you’ve got major game for bringing me here and playing that song,” you grinned. “You knew exactly what you were doing, Daniel Wagner. Didn’t you?” 

“Saint-Saëns always gets me women,” he shrugged, his bright grin revealing his annoyingly-perfect teeth. “If you were curious.” 

You scoffed, pushing him backward, your eyes widening with surprise. “And by women, I mean just one,” he said, stepping back into your space, his hands resting on your hips. “very smart, and very, very sexy woman.” His lips hovered just over yours, hot breath expelling through his nostrils upon your skin. He let silence fill the room before his fingertips moved to the small of your back, pulling you in against him. You let your eyes fall closed as you waited for him to kiss you. His lips brushed yours gently at first, their velvet softness teasing your mouth slightly open. You welcomed the kiss, letting your lips fold easily with his. Busying your hands, you lifted them to wrap around his neck, teasing the dark curls that brushed against your fingers. He teased the curve of your lips with his tongue, introducing it softly within the kiss, which was quickly becoming needier. Your hands shifted, holding his face by the curve of his jaw as he wandered to the hem of your shirt, his fingertips dancing upward to touch your bare skin. 

“Danny,” you groaned into the kiss, aware of the growing arousal between your legs. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his hands continuing to rise beneath your shirt. 

“I can’t,” You admitted, kissing him deeper, letting his tongue fold with yours, his hold on your body growing more and more possessive. “In public?” You murmured softly. 

“It’s the weekend. No one’s here,” he answered, moving to kiss down the curve of your neck, his hands palming over one of your breasts. You gasped into the room as he tweaked and pulled at your nipple with the crease of his thumb and forefinger. 

“Fuck,” you moaned softly, your hands moving to smooth over his back. 

“You like it when I tease you?” He asked quietly, moving the tips of his fingers to graze against your sensitive areolas. 

“Daniel,” you urged, walking him backward against the first row of seats. “Sit down,” you told him. 

“Hm?” He asked, moving back up to your lips. 

“Sit down,” you ordered quietly, pushing him away from you, looking around the large room for evidence of anyone else watching. He obeyed your command, moving to sit down as you had told him. He watched you silently, biting on his bottom lip as he waited for you. Though it wasn’t the easiest to do it this way, you looped your legs around him the best you could and lowered yourself slowly on his lap. 

“I like this much butter,” you admitted with a soft grin. He moved to your ass, squeezing it hard in his hands before moving upward to caress the small of your back. He’d wanted to give you attention, you knew it. But this time, it would be you to deliver. Slowly, you ground your ass down on him and began to speak. “Tell me what you like about my body, Danny.” You looked down at him, watching as his expression began to relax, pulling his bottom and upper lips into his mouth and biting down on them. 

“I love your ass,” He said with a smirk, and you responded by adding more pressure against him, listening to his breath hitch. His hips moved forward to allow you more space. 

“What else?” You asked him, raising your eyebrows as you reached up to throw your hair behind you. 

“Your tits are incredible,” He continued, reaching beneath your shirt to squeeze your breasts. His hands were so warm, and the sensation was incredible. The calluses from drumming had toughened his hands, but you loved the masculine roughness of them. The idea of being walked in on was exhilarating, especially when you considered what your intentions with Danny were, even if he didn’t know yet. 

“What else?” You asked again. 

“You really want to know?” he asked, his eyes practically sparkling. 

“Mmhmm,” you nodded your head, beginning to swivel your hips against him, feeling his hardness rising to rub against your ass. 

“I love,” he groaned, releasing a heavy sigh through his mouth. He reached for your ass, taking a full handful of it and pulling you down with your full weight against his groin, rocking his hips up against your mound. 

“Fuck–” you moaned, feeling him against you. 

“I adore your perfect pussy,” he finally spoke, reaching for your knees to widen them so he could repeat the movement. 

“Danny,” you practically whimpered. He looked up at you through heavy lids, his dark lashes making him look so innocent, but incredibly seductive at the same time. 

“What?” He asked softly, a trace of a smirk laced through his expression. 

“You think you’re the one in control,” you purred, moving off of him, and getting down on your knees in front of him. “But you’re wrong.” 

“I am?” He asked softly, his expression shaded by skepticism. 

“Honey, you have no idea,” you told him, walking forward on your knees, reaching for the button on his pants. You felt arousal lurch through your core as you did, pulling down his zipper. Tilting your head upward to look at him, you met his gaze, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed slowly. You chuckled once through your nose. “You want me to touch you, don’t you, Danny?” You asked him playfully. 

His mouth pulled open just slightly as his jaw slackened. He nodded slowly. 

“No words?” You asked, grazing your fingertips over the bright blue fabric of his underwear, most definitely touching his cock. 

“Y-yes. Yes please.” You made a show of running your tongue over your bottom lip before pulling his fly down as far as it would go, reaching into his underwear for his hardening cock, revealing its full length. You hadn’t had the real chance the first time to take charge in pleasing Danny, and this time, you knew you’d make up for it. 

“Such a pretty cock,” you praised, stroking his length several slow times, watching how his expression began to grow less attentive to his sense of sight, and so much more t0 feeling. “So big, too. You know,” you began, placing your thumb on his pink tip, dispersing his single drop of pre-cum with the pad of it as you touched him. “You felt incredible inside of me the other night. I don’t think I really showed you how appreciative I am.” You flicked your eyes up at him. “Should I show you just how good you make me feel, Danny?” You felt his cock twitch under your grasp in response, and you knew that you had him literally wrapped around your fingers. 

“Please,” he said in a barely-there whisper, gripping the back of the seats at either side of him as he let you take the lead. 

“You wanna feel my hot mouth and lips all over your cock?” You asked him again, adding more pressure against his length, feeling the texture of his veins as blood rushed into his lower body. He was almost feverishly-hot to the touch. 

“Stop teasing me, Y/n. Please.” 

“So insistent, Danny. Haven’t you ever heard of patience?” Lifting his cock upward toward his belly, you lolled your tongue out of your mouth and ran a slow, wet line up the underside of his cock, feeling how rigid he was against your touch. He tasted so good; natural and masculine, but with the faintest scent of his spicy body wash lifted from the heat of his skin. You looked up again at him, amused when he lifted one of his hands to run it through his curls as he sighed deeply. You repeated the movement, stopping to drag your tongue around the underside of the tip of his cock, knowing you had him when he audibly moaned, hissing with pleasure through gritted teeth. 

“Fuck–Y/n,” he grunted, reaching to squeeze the hand that you had left rested on his thigh. “Please.” His voice was insistent, pulled thin, in almost a whimper, and you swore in the moment that you’d never heard anything more beautiful. 

Just as you felt he’d beg you once more, you took his tip into your mouth, ringing it slowly with the flat of your tongue. You loved how he writhed underneath you as you finally touched him. After a moment, you decided to give in to his begs by finally taking more of him into your mouth, using the wetness of your mouth to slick over his length with your tongue. Skillfully, you hollowed your cheeks and added suction. As you moved downward, you knew that Danny’s length and girth would most definitely activate your gag reflex. Even so, you didn’t care, especially if it meant you’d get to hear his beautiful whimpers of agonized ecstasy as you took your time pleasing him. “Fuck, that feels so damn good,” he murmured, placing his hand on his thigh where your hand rested. You felt him squeeze it in increments as you moved, and you imagined each time he wrapped his fingers further around your hand, it was a reflection of the amount of pleasure you were giving him. You broke suction for a moment, knowing you’d left strings of saliva connected between your mouth and his cock. You moved in to lick away the excess before speaking again. 

“You might laugh,” you say, wiping at your mouth with the back of his hand, “But getting to fuck you with my mouth has been the only thing I could think about…practically since you took me on your motorcycle.” You stroked his cock to remedy the absence of your mouth. 

“I would–never,” he groaned, “Laugh at you about that. Not when you make me feel so goddamn good.” Moving quickly off of your knees, you rose to kiss him slowly, continuing to knead my fingers against your length. You felt the vibration of his moans reverberate through his lips as you kissed him. 

“You want–” you whispered against his open mouth. “You want more, don’t you?” He breathed against your kiss, and you could feel the gentle puffs of air drift against your face. “You want my pussy, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” he answered heavily, his voice barely audible. 

“You want to fuck me in public?” You said, squeezing harder on his cock. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Danny.” You grinned when you watched his cheeks pinken with slight embarrassment. 

“How about I meet you in the middle, hm? You’re lucky I wore a skirt.” Reaching underneath the hem of it, you tugged at your underwear, pulling them down your legs quickly and handed them to Danny. “Hold onto these,” You told him, watching him loop the fabric around his fingers as you moved to situate yourself on his lap, reaching for his cock. 

“Fuck, Y/n. You’re fucking soaked,” he said, rubbing his thumb into the crotch of your panties. “God I wish I could taste you right now.” 

“Save those thoughts for later,” you murmured. “For now, this is all about you.” You leaned forward and kissed him. “And maybe a tiny bit for me, too,” you pulled away from him, enthused when he leaned forward to catch your lips once more. 

Taking his cock in your hand, you lowered yourself against his shaft, careful to grind along his length. Feeling your own wetness, dropped your hips, sliding against him to cover his cock in your slick. “Oh my God,” he groaned, his voice cut with a raspiness that only aroused you further. His hands moved to grip your hips possessively, his thick fingers digging into your flesh.

“Does my pussy feel good when I grind it against your cock like this?” You moved, using your hand to steady his shaft against your heat, stopping just when you felt his tip poke gently against your entrance. You debated quitting the teasing and taking all of him at once, but you stayed the course, lifting yourself just a few inches off of him. “You want me, Danny? Show me.” 

He moved instantly, reaching his hand down to his cock, holding it at the base while lifting his hips to find yours, sliding himself backward and forward against your folds. “I want to fuck you so badly,” He almost whimpered. “You’re pussy is so fucking warm, it feels so fucking good.” 

You hummed softly, bunching your skirt in your fist as you reached down to find his hand, guiding it with yours against yourself. His hips lurched upward and forward over and over again, filling your belly with swelling, needy sensation. You’d never done anything like this with someone in public, and though there was a great possibility of getting caught, your need for him surpassed any ounce of fear you had. 

“Say my name, Y/n,” he moaned, grabbing for your hips to pull you back down against him. He needed more pressure, more friction–more of you. 

“Danny,” you sighed through his name. “Your cock is so hot–so big.” You wished you could squeeze around him to show him just how good he made you feel. “I want you, Danny. So much.” He reached upward to knead your breasts in his hands, moving to pinch your nipples as you rode the underside of his cock. You were certain that he was almost painfully erect. 

“Y/n, baby please,” he finally whimpered, sending your insides gripping for the ghost of his cock. “More, please–” his voice rose in pitch, his face contorted with ecstasy. 

“You want more?” You asked. “So selfish,” you grinned, though in reality, you were just as desperate. You began to undulate your hips down against his length as hard and as fast as you could, watching his chest rise and fall with increased breath. “I’m so good to you, Danny. And you ask for more?” You pressed your hands down into his chest as you rode him, the increased friction against your pussy flooding your core with desire. 

“Please,” he cried out, his hands flying to your thighs, spreading your legs as far apart as he could get them. “More!” 

There would be no debate of whether his grip would leave marks. You wanted them there as a reminder of this encounter. “Cum for me, Danny. Close your eyes and let go. I’ll get you there, I promise,” you practically sang to him. You knew what you’d do to send him careening over the edge, and him not knowing only made you work harder. 

You watched as he obeyed instantly, his eyes falling shut, his jaw relaxing and tightening in a consistent rhythm. His eyebrows furrowed inward like he was in pain, but you both knew it was the furthest thing from the truth. Soft, beautiful groans escaped from his throat and out of his mouth and nose, his voice resounding off of the  walls around you as you.

“You’re being so good,” You praised him, but he didn’t want to hear it. In that last moment, his hips bucked upward against your heat, despite you pressing all of your weight against him. His hand flew to your mouth to silently tell you to stop talking, and instinctively, you parted your lips, taking his fingertips into your mouth, licking your tongue over them. 

He was dangerously close, and though he’d be fine cumming against your skin or in your mouth, you had different plans. Lifting slightly without giving yourself away, you routed his cock back to your slick entrance and slammed your hips forward, knowing you were more than aroused to take his entire length if you needed to. His eyes flew open as you did, his cock filling you perfectly. You squeezed down on him as tightly as you could, feeling him twitching uncontrollably inside of you. You tilted forward and let yourself fall against his chest where he’d sunk down in the seat. “Let go, baby. I want all of you.” He needed nothing more except your final permission. He groaned with carnal desire as his hands rushed to your hips, yanking you as close as possible against him, unloading himself inside of you with a thick, heavy hiss through his teeth. His face had grown Scarlet with exertion, and in that final moment, you could see a single vein in his forehead that bulged forward as he released. Closing your eyes, you imagined the shape of him inside of you and tightened your walls around every inch of him, feeling his hot release filling you with a warmth and comfort that was indescribable, and only shared between you and him. He twitched helplessly inside, his breath hitching beneath you as he finally began to come down from the high you’d supplied.

“Hey!” You heard someone bark angrily toward the top of the recital hall, filling you with terror. “The hall is closed! Get out of here!” From where you sat, you could see the stream of light from a flashlight flood over seats above you.  

“Fuck!” You whispered, lowering your body closer to Danny, and pulling out of him in the darkness, hoping and praying that security didn’t see you having sex. 

“Stupid college kids,” the man sputtered under his breath. “Out now!”

You tugged your skirt down as quickly as you could and watched as Danny buttoned his pants, not bothering to zip them. “Run,” he half-whispered, and you did immediately, keeping your head ducked low, sprinting off to the stage right exit. He reached for your hand and followed quickly.

“What about your cello?” You called back at him. 

“Wasn’t mine!” he said casually, running out of the building with you. 

***

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” He asked, peering at you over the steering wheel. He’d caught you staring.

“It’s because you’re so just so ugly,” you answered instantly, smirking at him as he drove. “It’s really unfortunate.”

“That’s definitely not what you said last night,” He fired back, blinking at you innocently through long, dark lashes. Admittedly, he looked gorgeous today, and his entire demeanor exuded relaxed confidence. He’d worn a backwards baseball cap, his curls pushed back slightly. You watched as they swirled into tight coils, shining against the sunlight beaming through the windows. As you made eye contact through his tinted sunglasses, you would have let him do anything to you then and there had he simply asked. 

“Let’s not advertise that,” you smirked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

“Oh, I might be conceited, Darling, but there are things I most definitely intend to keep to myself. Sex in public is definitely one of those things.” 

“Daniel Wagner!” You scoffed, reaching to swat at him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re not thinking the same thing!” He chuckled, moving away from you as he turned into the rehearsal space. You watched as his fingers gripped the steering wheel, the contour of his muscles adjusting as he turned into the parking lot, and you admired the small veins that moved along his arms and into his hands. You weren’t exactly sure why you found these features so beautiful, but now, your mind fixated helplessly on them. 

“Come on, pretty girl,” he said, patting your thigh before stepping out of his car and making his way around it to take your hand. “Let’s go get this shit over with,” he said as you rose out of the vehicle, “So I can take you home and love on you some more,” he murmured, pulling you against him. You hugged him tight to you, his spicy scent looping pleasantly around you. He bent to kiss you on the head, and you moved to tilt upward. He moved to kiss you softly on the lips before taking your hand in his and walking into the building. Already inside, Jake was playing disconnected riffs on guitar, and you rolled your eyes, knowing that he most definitely had turned the gain all the way up. A fond grin began to tug at your lips. 

In the moment, your heart twanged with regret, wishing that things were different between the two of you. You would have been laughing at him two months ago, telling him he sucked at guitar, and that you were a better player. He would have made you prove it, and when you made your attempt, you would have most definitely made him fall apart laughing from how awful you sounded. 

“You okay?” Danny asked, noticing your sudden silence. You looked up at him and nodded, offering him a thin smile. 

“I’m fine,” you told him, and he pulled an arm around you, pulling you to his side as he stepped into the rehearsal room, dropping his drum bag by the stool behind his kit. 

“Think you could make a good beat?” He asked you, raising a flirtatious eyebrow. 

“Easy. Didn’t you know, I actually made these drums,” you said sarcastically, referring to his kit. You winked at him, stepping over to his kit and took a seat on the stool, completely unaware of what each drum was called, what its purpose was, and how to even keep time. 

“Take these,” he said, pulling a freshly prepped set of sticks out of his bag. They had been wrapped in electrical tape. “I use these when my hands hurt,” he explained. “They don’t splinter as easily, and they keep most of the vibration at the tip, up here,” he explained, touching the bead of the drumstick with the pad of his finger. “They’ll be good for you to use, I think.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jake glancing over at you every few moments, but you pretended not to notice. You took the sticks from him, rubbing your fingers over the smoothy-taped areas. “Now,” he began, moving behind you. “Your foot is an extra hand.” He squeezed your shoulders tenderly as he spoke. “The pedal is down there,” he pointed. “Hit it.” 

You moved your foot down and stomped on the pedal. The room filled with the sound of the kick drum and Jake’s gaze flitted upward, landing on yours. He looked away quickly and continued to play. “Excellent!” Danny mused. “Now,” he said, leaning inward, his chest and belly pressed against your back, his arms coming around your body to place his hands on yours. You felt his curls tickle your neck as he moved in just above your shoulder. You tilted your head to look up at him for a moment, and he smiled gently down at you before turning his head back forward. “Play.” 

“Anything?” You asked him, hovering the sticks over the head of the snare. He reached under the drum and tightened the snare to change the sound. 

“You built these, right?” He asked with a wide grin. “You know how it works.” 

“Oh yeah, totally,” you said, reaching upward and slamming the sticks against the head of the drum, listening to the rattle resound through the space. You did it several times before reaching up and striking the cymbal a few times, moving to the other toms and then back. Danny chuckled softly as you bashed erratically on the drums. 

“You poor thing,” He murmured into the cuff of your ear. Something about the way he said it sent shivers over your body, igniting your skin in an instant array of goosebumps. The worst part was that he knew it. “Let me help.” You felt his rough fingers glide over yours before closing around them. You enjoyed his closeness and how comfortable you felt with him, despite the electricity that silently crackled between your embraces. He moved with easy confidence, the strength and solidity in his rhythm evident through his guiding movement. You chuckled softly as he moved with you, feeling his lips kiss your neck as he somehow continued to play effortlessly. 

“Danny! Focus!” You chided him. 

“Okay, okay,” he said with a wide grin. “Scoot,” He said, taking the drumsticks from you, backing away. You moved for him, standing and letting him sit on the stool instead. “Now, come sit,” He said, patting his thigh. “This is yours,” he said, handing you one of the sticks. 

Jake (will be read from first person POV, present tense):

I want it to stop, but knowing I have no power over that, I move to roll my eyes and boil internally instead. They’re blatantly flirting in front of me, disregarding me entirely. You see me, yet you peer right through me with a gentle smile, but one that isn’t mine to see. How could I become a stranger to you so quickly? Do the last two years of our friendship mean absolutely nothing to you? Danny doesn’t care that I have feelings for you. He knows I do, but his selfishness stole you from me. What he doesn’t know is that I’m still not over you, and I don’t intend to be anytime soon. We’ll find each other again soon enough. This isn’t goodbye. It’s temporary. 

I pluck random, thoughtless riffs on my guitar as I seethe. “Talk to her,” Josh says, coming to sit beside me, slurping loudly on what I assume is most likely a hot tea mixed with a cocktail bar’s worth of booze.

“What?” I ask, turning with my guitar toward him. 

“Jake. You literally look like a fuckin’ stalker staring at her, man. Just pull her aside and talk to her already. It’s time. You’re losing her. Smooth things over before it’s too late.” You watched as Sam sidled over, bending to pet Rosie as she zoomed around the room. 

“Really,” Sam agreed quietly. “The weird tension is getting really old.” I watch as he tosses one of Rosie’s toys into the hallway, grinning faintly as she lunges to grab it and run it back to Sam. It takes my mind off of you for just a moment. 

“I wasn’t staring,” I argue despite Josh and Sam’s dissenting glances at each other. I scoff with annoyance. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.” Truth be told, my stance has gotten me nowhere. I could have been honest with you, and I fucked it up by being a coward. I lied to you, and stole away your hope for more, because I was scared. I could have told you. You would have understood, but now it’s far-too late to even consider opening up a conversation like that. Despite my jealousy, I put it aside, determined to pull you aside after rehearsal and try to mend things, if only just a little bit. 

***

You were aware of his presence. You hadn’t made eye contact, but something in your gut told you he was approaching you. The room grew smaller and smaller as he arrived beside you, but you laughed at whatever Danny was in the middle of telling you, trying your best to look undisturbed. 

“Hey,” he said, breaking through your defenses easily. 

“Hi,” you spoke, looking him in the eye. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” He looked nervous, his gaze moving between you and Danny for a long moment. “Alone?” He asked again. You watched as Danny’s jaw set tensely. You touched his arm softly and squeezed. 

“Sure,” you told Jake, nodding with a thin smile, stepping away from Danny. “I’ll be back in a few.” Danny eyed Jake for a long moment before looking back at you, nodding coolly. 

You walked with him around the exterior hallways that looped around the large building, just like old times, except now, the chasms in your relationship had pulled you so far from one another that silence prevailed for far too long. 

“So, I guess I really just wanted to say I’m sorry.” He said sheepishly, casting his eyes down upon the tile floor. He stuffed his hands nervously in his pocket. You were silent, but you continued to walk with him as you listened. “I was terrible to you, and I promised you that I would never leave–”

“But you did,” you said, looking up at him. He met your gaze, nodding.

“I did.” He let more silence linger before continuing. “Y/n, I shut you out because I didn’t know how to process what you had told me.”

“So you decided being an absolute piece of shit was the way to go?” You asked him sarcastically, your tone sharp and icy. 

“Apparently,” he said, grimacing with regret. “And you’re right. I hurt you. I know I did, and I only made it worse. And now you’re with Danny…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked him, turning sharply in place. 

“What?” He asked, though he heard you.

“What does that have to do with anything, Jake? Why couldn’t you just be

there for me? You couldn’t–you literally let your bestfriend–hell, pretty much your brother fill your shoes?” 

“You’re my best friend!” He practically shouted, stepping forward and taking you by your shoulders. His eyes were wild with intensity, taking you by surprise. “You, Y/n,” he said with a tenderness you didn’t quite understand. “I let you down–and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/n. I just want you back. How can I get you to trust me again?” He asked as his expression deepened, practically begging for mercy. 

“Don’t leave me, Jake. Don’t leave again.”

--

End of part 6.

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[mermaidsirennikita]

Not Another Love Song by Julie Soto was sold as a very sexy book involving cellos so naturally I was like "is he gonna guide her through playing the cello" and he DOES and then I was like "is he gonna Do That while she plays the cello"

and all I can say is

I was the opposite of disappointed

[youthofpandas]

Dawn Office Sinclair writing I was possessed to make after thinking about how well the Beatrice section of Demian works with the Philip ID <3

~~~~

Sinclair had watched her pass by him so many times, never a glance taken his way - which he prefers. The woman he’d taken to calling Beatrice is an actually competent Fixer, unlike him, and she has places to be, contracts to fulfill. For a while he had been thinking of giving up on the Fixer idea entirely, how few people actually make it above a measly Grade 8? Bouncing between fallen Office after fallen Office, never quite making enough money to ever be comfortable. But then he had seen her, his Beatrice, and he took immediate notice of how she walked with a purpose and confidence of a person who knew they were someone. She wasn’t held down by worries of not making it, she trusted in herself, in her abilities, in everything she did. He was sure of it. And just seeing that was enough to encourage him to continue going. He pushed himself through Fixer exams and hours of training, took to sending applications at the local Offices whenever they had an opening (which was often, in this part of the City - which is to say it was just like everywhere else). Sinclair pushed himself and he thought of Beatrice and her cello case and wondered if she played, if she was any good at it. She’d have to be, wouldn’t she? To invest in such a hobby? He would like to listen one day. He noticed when one day she had replaced her arms with prosthetics, strong and well made, and wondered if she had just gotten a big pay day to make an upgrade like that - wondered what her hands would feel like to touch now. He’d never admit it to her, of course — here he was some silent observer of her life that she would never know the name of — but he had fallen in love with her. The image of her, at least. Blue hair cut short and dark, tired eyes, an easy smile. When she stood to wait to cross the street her stance was so sure of herself, relaxed yet confident. He could probably introduce himself by bumping into her at her favorite coffee shop, which is where he first saw her to begin with when he was using the free wifi to study for the licensing exam, but he was too scared to approach now… much too scared. But, in all honesty, he was content with this. These silent affections had helped him, had guided him forward through life and gotten him out of his darkest period. Sinclair resolved to let go of his Beatrice now that he had finally been accepted at an Office with an actual reputation. He would say goodbye to Beatrice, mentally that is, and would welcome in the new chapter of his life at Dawn Office, and all would be well.

[strayheartless]

Maybe it’s cause I listen to a lot of apocalyptica. Maybe I should blame DDD, but I have this headcanon that Riku plays the Cello…

Don’t ask me give you evidence as to why.

I just, I dunno, I have this image of post CoM/ pre KH2 Riku relearning how to play an instrument he’s played since he was six whilst he’s wearing his blindfold. Just him, in the middle of a big empty room in the twilight town mansion, feeling out the notes and relying only on his ears and fingers to guide his muscles.

Perhaps he’d do it in the quiet moments when he has nothing to do but wait for DiZ to make some headway. Maybe Naminé sneaks into the room to watch him play, and he knows she’s there but he lets it be.

Maybe, after a while it’s his go to therapy when he feels like he’s going to scream or crawl out of his skin.

It’s something Ansem/Zehanort couldn’t do. Something that tied him to who he was. And in a way it became his focus.

Maybe Riku falls back on it while he’s searching for Sora after KH3. He’s so lost and worried and angry that he feels out of control, so he reaches for the blindfold -the one he shoved to the back of his draws and swore he’d never wear again- and wraps it around his eyes.

When he sits down to play, its like sinking into painless sleep after hours of agony. Just the low vibrations of the strings, as he plays out how he feels.

What comes out of the instrument is dark and a little bit broody, and afterwards he feels like an idiot for falling back on that melodramatic feeling to help him cope. But in the moment it helps him purge what he’s feeling so that he can continue the fight.

Maybe Kairi hears. Maybe Leon and the rest of the restoration committee hear it too.

Maybe it reverberates around the castle when he plays and let���s them all know that he needs support.

I dunno man, it’s such a melodramatic headcanon. It’s so emo, that I hate it, but also love it.

I just like the idea of it.

[asher-agere]

Hallo!! I hope you’re days been going good! I was wondering if you could do hc’s for cg Fyodor with a sleepy baby regressor Sigma? ≧(´▽｀)≦ - ⭐️

How considerate of you! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) My days been pretty good! I feel very accomplished hehe. I hope the same to you! And I can absolutely do that ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

Caregiver Fyodor + Sleepy Little Sigma

⋆♱✮♱⋆

ִֶָ࣪☾. I believe that Fyodor would be a very possessive caregiver, that’s his baby. And Sigma is a very clingy little! These two go together perfectly! Sleepy time means even more clingy of course, which pleases Fyodor greatly. Since Sigma is almost always sleepy… It’s just an endless loop of perfect!

ִֶָ࣪☾. I’ve previously stated that I think Sigma regresses from 2-4. HOWEVER, clingy baby Sigma is even younger! This is a baby we’re talking about after all! I’d say he regresses from like 1-3, not much younger but definitely more baby

ִֶָ࣪☾. I think that Sigma would be mostly non-verbal! He can babble but he gets self conscious that his deep voice isn’t very baby like (,,>﹏<,,) But Fyodor to the rescue! Fyodor will play his cello for the baby! The music drowns out the babbles so Sigma can still be a happy babbling baby, and even if he can hear himself a deep voice fits the cello’s tone better, so it sounds nice

ִֶָ࣪☾. Sigma is already a sleepy enough baby as is, and Fyodor doesn’t help with that! A caregivers headspace can be just as helpful as a regressors, sometimes Fyodor needs a break just as much as Sigma does! But Fyodor isn’t good at communicating that. You know what he is good at though? Manipulation! He’ll make some warm honey milk and offer to hold Sigma as he drinks it. It isn’t long before he has a yawning babbling baby! Sigma realizes what he’s doing but doesn’t mind hehe

ִֶָ࣪☾. To help ease Sigma into headspace a go to snack is milk and cookies! Fyodor isn’t much of a baker, so they’re usually store bought, but sometimes Sigma makes them! Fyodor will endlessly praise him for being so helpful and doing such a good job! The praise also helps with slipping into headspace hehe

ִֶָ࣪☾. All the stuffed animals ever! I think Sigma would be absolutely fascinated by stuffed animals, he’s never had any before, and they’re so soft and fluffy! Fyodor indulges this obsession and it isn’t long before their nap time cuddle piles are more stuffed animal than human. Sigma’s a happy baby though! It feels so warm and safe, plus being in his caregivers arms? It’s the best ever!

ִֶָ࣪☾. Sigma is a baby that needs something in his mouth. I don’t think he’d be too bad about sucking on his fingers? He’d recognize that’s yucky. But he’ll chew on a plushy or a sleeve if he has it. If he’s only wearing short sleeves and doesn’t have a plushy to chew on he’ll end up crying! Everything feels so wrong and he doesn’t understand it! But then Fyodor slips him a pacifier and everything feels nice again! Of course crying only wears him out even more, leaving behind sleepy baby once again

ִֶָ࣪☾. Sigma is very sensitive to textures! Luckily Fyodor only buys the best, so they wouldn’t have many issues. But if Sigma is wearing his work clothes he just feels so gross! Fyodor will take his hand and guide him to a dresser, gently changing him into comfortable clothes

ִֶָ࣪☾. Fyodor isn’t strong enough to pick Sigma up, which is super sad because the baby wants to be held! Plus moving his legs is just so hard… But Fyodor rewards him with all the hugs ever afterwards! So it’s worth it. He doesn’t want to hurt his caregiver of course, he’s a very understanding baby!

⋆♱✮♱⋆

I hope you enjoyed! I love writing sleepy clingy babies, they’re all just tiny little guys! They deserve all the cuddles ever. I hope everyone who reads this has a wonderful day!

[alenaphale]

so guys a little while ago i came up with a les mis artistic au that I think would be interesting for you to acknowledge! so basically the idea of it is this:

everything takes place in modern france. les amis + cosette + eponine (basically the youngsters mentioned in the second volume (maybe even montparnasse)) are studying in the académie des beaux-arts on two different faculties, visual arts and music. i am yet to figure out who studies what, but some things are already obvious to me, so I would like to share some of them with you

• first of all the dean of the faculty of visual arts is valjean, the dean of the one of music — javert. their approaches to what is art and how one should give a proper education on it are quite different — opposite, even, because where valjean strives for freedom in self-expression and his students’ own unique understanding, javert is equally devoted to precision (which is, for every performer who I have a misfortune to be myself, is as beneficial as it is painful, sometimes even destructive to the very purpose of performing music)

of course it would be silly to expect such a confrontation would not affect their students.

• so, very vaguely: enjolras, combeferre, courfeyrac (because i couldn’t force myself to separate the great trio of The leader, The guide and The centre™), jehan, marius and cosette are all in the orchestra.

- enjolras is a conductor, of course

- combeferre is the first violin. sometimes when enjolras by some miracle is not present at the rehearsal, he fulfills his duties — and, believe me, his tolerating attitude really is a blessing to the musicians

- courfeyrac is either a timpanist or a pianist-accompaniator (both options make perfect sense in my mind and I cannot decide)

- jehan is a harpist (feel free to make your own suggestions, but I tried to express his passion for middle ages, romantism and his poetical nature with this choice)

- marius is a violinist because I thought it would be hilarious for him to play soppy melodies whenever he’s pining on cosette

- cosette herself is a cellist. at first, i was going to make her an opera singer (soprano), then i was contemplating on her being a violinist as well, but then I thought — goddamn it, i love women who play cello, and it would reflect her character so well (which i of course am planning to develop a bit from what monsieur hugo provided us with), and I just don’t want to see her as something high-pitched! the solemn and a bit sorrowful, yet so noble and beautiful timbre of cello seems to suit her image in my mind.

• as for the artists, here we have OBVIOUSLY my man grantaire, eponine, joly + bossuet, feuilly and bahorel. most of them are painters, with few exceptions: for example, joly is a sculptor in my mind, and feuilly does decorative art (also I am sorry he is also a student here and joly is not a medic it is all only for the sake of the composition)

i don’t want to make this post too long so I shall continue in the next ones! i hope this idea is entertaining enough for you my fellow readers. also i think it is pretty obvious that i have little to no knowledge at all about visual arts so please be free to comment your own thoughts

(also i am new to the fandom (although I’ve been into les mis for quite some time now) and I would really appreciate any sort of communication) :)

[diazsdimples]

heey james 🥰 please tell me more about the carcrash fic 👀

Hiiii Newbie 😊

I'm SO GLAD you asked about this one cause I am potentially the most excited about this asdkjhsak. So, have you seen the movie "If I stay"? Horrific CGI cello playing aside, this film ate me up in my teenaged years and while I was driving home one day I was like "!!! what if Eddie gets in a car crash with Buck and Chris and is awake just long enough post-crash to think both Chris and Buck didn't make it before he passes out" and it kinda spiralled from there. Here are The Vibes:

Eddie, Buck and Christopher in a car crash. Eddie bore the brunt of the impact as the front passenger but his injuries didn't initially kick in. He was awake long enough to see both Buck and Christopher unmoving in the wreck, with blood on their faces, and thought they were dead. He passes out

At this point we get Coma Eddie. Eddie "wakes up" to find Shannon by his bedside, holding his hand and telling him how much she loves him. She tells him that he needs to get back to Christopher, but Eddie has forgotten who that is. There's only Shannon.

The fic is basically Shannon taking Eddie through moments of their lives as parents to Christopher, showing Eddie their son and convincing him that he wants to go back, that he has to keep living for them. There are hints that Eddie might be hearing someone else's voice and feeling someone else's touch on his hands as this happens.

Slowly, Eddie remembers and begins to fight, but he can't figure his way back. But he keeps following this voice, the voice begging him to come home, to be safe with them, to not leave them. He tells Shannon about the voice and she guides him, travelling from Texas to Los Angeles until they get to the hospital where Eddie is.

There will be areas of Buck's POV as he recovers from his injuries and learns that Eddie's in a coma too. Christopher is fine, he stays with Bobby and Athena until Buck is well enough to care for him.

I haven't quite decided how I'm going to end it all but the gist is, this is Eddie and Shannon's final love story, and their final time together as a family until Eddie goes back and makes his home with Buck and Chris.

Hopefully I can start writing some small bits of this soon! Thanks for asking about it!

[niobiumao3]

Hi! For the TBB Ask game - how about 1., 21., 28. & 49.?

Also, it's always a delight to see you on my dashboard and thanks a lot for sharing your thoughts & opinions on TBB!

Thanks in advance & stay safe!

ty so much for the ask! On to the answers:

1. What’s your favorite thing about the show? In other words, what made you fall in love with the series? 

I am a sucker for family and ensemble dynamics in stories. Almost all of my creative ideas come from groups of little interacting, undergoing situations, this sort of thing, and TBB is that in a nutshell. I loved the idea of each Batch member having something that set them apart from the expected norm for their culture, something I can relate to deeply. Tech was a draw as well but that came later, when their characterization of him really solidified.

21. Road trip with the Batch!

Where are you going? Assuming local to me, I think they might like Yellowstone or Capitol Reef.

Who’s driving? Tech or Echo can take turns. Hunter is banned.

Who has the snacks? Echo and Wrecker. Echo is a particular eater so I wouldn't want him to be subjected to food he dislikes, being similar myself in random ways. Wrecker has a broader pallette so he'll make sure there's enough for everyone.

Who is in charge of music? Hunter, because it'll annoy Crosshair and this amuses me.

Who got left behind at the gas station? Cr--in all honesty, probably Omega and I. We're too busy looking at little geode and petrified tree keychains and whatever.

And other headcanons you have about going on a road trip with the Bad Batch. 

Tech definitely just leads his own tour groups, gets confused as a tour guide by other tourists. Wrecker wants to pet a moose. Crosshair enjoys bird watching. Echo is unimpressed with the traffic around major national parks.

28. If you could assign instruments to each Batcher, what instrument would you assign them? 

Tech I can see as multi-instrument, though I think he'd favor a string like cello.

Crosshair seems very woodwind to me. Sax of some sort.

I like a brass instrument for Wrecker, like French Horn or trombone, something mid-tone.

Hunter strikes me as a guitar guy, with a side of piano.

Percussion for Echo, though I'd think not just drums but also marimba, xylophone, etc.

Omega is definitely out there wanting to go tuba or susaphone but until she's bigger she has to settle for something like baritone sax.

49. What has been your favorite part about being in the fandom?

The really excellent community of creators--cosplayers, artists, writers, gif makers, vidmakers, just everyone doing cool and interesting things for us to engage with. The variety is endless and in times like right now, when the canon has gone a way some of us deeply dislike, it's really comforting to have all of this to come back to and even look forward to.

[aoxue]

yi city trio musician au? what genres would they be in, what would their fandoms be like?

Awww yeah, love a musician AU!

I have thought about the Yi City quartet as a literal string quartet before: Xiao Xingchen on first violin, A-Qing on second, Song Lan on cello, and Xue Yang on viola (lol). But in terms of more popular music?

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan made a name for themselves as a duo, playing melody-driven indie pop/rock with poetic but thoughtful and socially conscious lyrics. Their later work included more love songs. Xiao Xingchen plays synths and does most of the lead vocals, and he tends to bring a dreamy, almost shoegazey quality to the music, but he also is known for artful, complex electric guitar work. Song Lan also plays guitar, as well as bass and other string instruments as necessary; favorites are erhu and cello. He'll sing backup with the occasional feature vocal, but they also have a fair number of solid instrumental tracks.

They got quite famous (at least within their genre) but refused to sign to a major label. Fans actually ranged a fair amount in age. The most vocal fans did skew younger, and the most annoying of these were the hipster crowd and music snobs ("they're so intelligent/progressive/underrated," "they were better before they got popular") as well as the obsessive, borderline stalkerish ones who also loudly shipped them. (Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen were a romantic item eventually, but that was not public knowledge.)

Unfortunately, they had a messy personal and professional breakup, and they both sort of dropped off the map for a while, to an honestly impressive degree. Song Lan went back to school and would occasionally put out a stripped back, broody single on his personal page with zero promotion, but Xiao Xingchen disappeared.

Xue Yang, meanwhile, works thousands of miles away, and he's an underdog, loud punk rocker, guided less by any political philosophy and more just stirring up a reaction. Main instrument is electric guitar. He's performed with a handful of other artists over the years, but the stints tend to be short. His fanbase is small but dedicated, including a lot of angry young people who resonate with his "message" and/or his looks.

And then, he has a new band, and they're putting out music that is a little less screaming, a little more melodic, with a more consistent, left-leaning message? Sometimes? The drummer is an energetic teenage girl who was busking with a set of buckets on the street before the bassist/guitarist took her under his wing and they both eventually joined Xue Yang's act. The guy hangs around at the back of the stage, sunglasses indoors and mostly not facing the audience, playing bass to complement Xue Yang's guitar most of the time -- and Xue Yang and A-Qing have enough stage presence that he can fade into the background just a little. But especially when he's on guitar, shredding a fancy solo, he's impossible to overlook, and the rumors that Xiao Xingchen is playing seedy clubs with a punk group begin to seem less and less like conspiracy theories....

AU ask game

[lespetitesmortsde]

6 8 13 orchestra AU :)

!! Hello friend!!

6. What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics? Great question. So, I feel like I have a Style and I think that's pretty prevalent/consistent across most of my fics. For orchestra AU, I think I shift my style. First of all, for more musicality to it. Not just in the way Laudna thinks but in the way she processes information. The emphasis on sound, not just when they're playing, but also in other aspects of her life. Second, I think in that one I go a little more to town on the descriptions of things because Composer!Laudna has spent a lot of time observing the world - from the outskirts and the edges just like her canon self, but also from just the other side of the windowpanes. Like she's accepted in certain circles, certain places, etc. in this AU, but it's always to a point. There's a limit. And while it's not as distant as canon, it's still very much present and she navigates that like the veteran she is. She's gotten little morsels of life and gotten to interact with a lot more people, but there's still this Otherness to it that has her as Observer instead of Participant. Okay and then not to be too long-winded about it (whoops), but this is also one where Laudna's appreciated. The Impostor Syndrome is big because there are all those other feelings still competing in her chest, but she IS. And I love that for her and I want the best for her and... well, Composer!Laudna is just very, very dear to my lil heart. Plus, a little spin on how she continuously makes/creates things.

8. Did any real people or events inspire any part of it? Kind of! I went to a symphony performance and immediately I was like, 'okay, new AU alert, for real.' I could just see Laudna up on that stage with the baton - a guiding light that makes the sum of parts greater than the individuals. And I wanted that for her so badly. I think I wrote the full outline with chapter titles (which is pretty sparse by most folks' standards I would assume), timeline, and chapter in a 24-hour daze. Truly, I was just infected with it. I love music and I love Laudna and we ended up here.

13. What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading? So the Symphony was doing a popular culture night - playing a selection of music/scores from big space films like Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, etc. That stuff got me in the major mood for the fic. After that, once I'd settled on Imogen as a cellist, a lot of cello music and then a lot of haunting, spooky, gothic stuff that I thought Laudna would either enjoy performing and/or compose. Now, I either throw on some cello music or the fic playlist to hunker down and write!

Thanks for asking! <3

If anyone else has a question about a fic of mine, here's the list.