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write4cench · 1 year ago

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distractions.

summary: central cee and you decided to collaborate together on a track together, but when things get a little too heated your minds drive… elsewhere

pairings: single!central cee x reader

genre: smut.. just smut

word count: 2.6k+ (unedited)

a/n: this is my first smut lmao can't believe i've done this, i mean i couldn’t help it central cee too fine. i’m not the best at it though.. 😁😁🙏🏾

central cee and you both spend your time in his private studio, located in his apartment. it's decently sized but not too spacious, regardless it gets the job done and the both of you manage to produce and record your lines for the track.

you've both wanted to work with one another on a song together and so have your fans, they've been awaiting this for so long that your management team decided it was the best decision.

you stand on inside of the booth looking down at the lyrics sheet that lies in front of you, humming the rhythm before the track plays within your headphones and you begin to sing along over your back vocals.

cench sits in front of you layed back in one of the wheely chairs that sit behind the booth, he watches you sing nodding his head to the rhythm of the song but also impressed by your vocal abilities.

it's the two of you alone in the studio which is quiet unusual considering the fact that during the last studio sessions the studio was filled with friends of central cee who decided to show up.

but instead this time, it's only the two of you. but it feels far from awkward it feels comforting and you both focus on getting the work done.

the song's chorus comes to and end and he stops the instrumental from playing again, upon finishing you glance at him and put a thumbs up asking him if you did good enough of a job, he nods and you do a small celebration that makes him laugh.

he begins to speak but it's too muffled due to the soundproof booth so you take your headphones off and open the door slightly to hear him better, "you did great, we don't even have to run it over again." he admits and you smile.

"you sure, i feel like some of it was a little off." you tell him but he shakes his head in refusal so you decided to leave it since it is his song after all.

"can i hear it over?" you ask him and he nods playing it over again, you put the headphones back onto your head and listen to it carefully.

the song starts off with central cee's wonderful rap that as usual never miss, the song then slips into the chorus that you sing and the beat drop before it sounds perfect.

the booth of you glance at one another in satisfaction at the song so far, sharing a smile as it continues before stopping at the progress so far.

"i think it's great so far." you say with a sigh as you sit behind the booth on one of the wheely chair turning yourself side to side.

"it's more than great." he mumbles.

the room is quiet and you decide to take out your phone, you glance at the time to see it read 10:43pm, it's getting later and you consider leaving within the next 20 minutes.

he finds an interest in the piano in front of the two of you, playing random notes that don't even sound too great together, you watch him finding the sight hilarious he notices so and shrugs embarrassed.

"i'm not too much a piano player," he sighs shaking his head trying to save himself, "i took lessons for a week and gave up on it." he clarifies and you nod your head numerously in a joking manner.

"can you even play any instrument?" you ask him genuinely and he shakes his head, your mouth drops in disbelief.

"maybe it's something i should get into, i don't play anything." he admits before smiling sheepishly.

"i'll show you something."

your hands find a placement onto the keyboard, testing out the position by pressing down on the notes to get the right keys. you begin to play something small and watch how his face turns into full surprise.

you smile as you continue before you get to distracted by him watching you and pause, "i can't focus with you watching me like that." you tell him annoyed and he laughs.

"forget i'm even here." he sighs closing his eyes and leaning back into your seat; you watch him do so frowning.

"how am i supposed to forget your there." you tell him but he doesn't respond so you exhale deeply before continuing to play the piano.

you'd admit, it's been a while since you've last played the piano but you've impressed yourself by still remembering the notes to the piece you play every single time.

you continue to play the piano forgetting he's even there until you come to an end, when you turn to look at him he's still laid back into his seat with his eyes closed, his hood lying over his head.

is he sleeping?

you hit him on the side of his arm and he winces before sitting upright, his hand rushing to soothe where he was attacked, "that fucking hurt." he groans and you smile to yourself.

"were you sleeping whilst i was playing?" you question him and he sighs still whining over the punch you just gave him.

"you didn't need to punch me like that," he starts watching how you only smile, "i wasn't sleeping, i was just resting my eyes innit."

you hum in response and watch how he sits upright in his seat rolling the chair over to stand beside you, he glances over the keys on the piano before speaking. "teach me something." he says.

"what am i supposed to teach you." you question him, he shrugs his shoulders with a yawn not helping you one bit.

"i dunno, maybe a chord or some shit." he utters and you bite your lip in thought of watch chord to do. he watches as your hand runs along the keyboard thinking of a position before it plays a chord.

he watches you carefully and when the pleasing sound rings he glances at you only to find you looking at him already, "did you see that?" you ask him and he shakes his head.

you roll your eyes in response, "what, am i supposed to get it on the first try?" he questions you confused only to see you nod.

you watch as his tattooed hand reaches over attempting to do the same hand movement that you did, but it doesn't succeed to make the correct sound.

"no, your supposed to do it like this." you mumble, your hand reaching over to correct his. you move his hand one down along and place it on top of his getting him to push it down as it sounds the correct chord.

"what chord was that?" he asks you curiously, you glance to look at him and it's only then you both notice how close you are to one another.

"c." you say. upon hearing your response he laughs to himself and you watch him confused, after seeing your confused face he stops laughing.

"it wasn't a c, for central cee." you mumble.

"yeah, definitely."

"you're not that special." you joke to him as you move your hand away from his and he nods gazing at you, it's only when you look up that your eyes meet his.

"mhm."

silence. you don't know what to say to him and you won't lie the way that his voice sounded when he hummed did something to you. you feel your cheeks begin to redden and you mentally curse at yourself.

luckily, the room is tinted dark blue so it's impossible for him to notice a thing; or it could just really be due to your melanated skin.

it's obvious that he notices how he's caught you out of words as a smirk grows upon his face, you watch his lips do so until he brings you out of your thoughts. "i got you quiet, i won." he mumbles.

you remain quiet not saying anything until the space between the two of you becomes smaller, before you could think of anything your lips press against his.

you can feel his smirk widen against your lips wider before he kisses you back, deeper but not too desperate. you don't even notice the fact you've just kissed central cee, your mind is just completely filled with.. desire.

the kiss runs long and you feel his arms wrap around your lower waist bringing you close to him, but the inconvenience of the chairs makes you get up from your chair and sit up on his lap instead.

it's then that everything hits you and you pull apart from his lips, your chest heaves numerously in sync with his and you eyes glance all over his face as you realise what's happening.

his gaze reads something completely different, his once playful eyes have turned dark and hazy showcasing lust instead it makes you ache for more and the position of you siting up on him creates even more need within your lower region.

"fuck." he says and before you know it, he's kissing you again. the kiss is more desperate and you fall into it, he takes the dominance but you try to keep a hold of everything by wrapping your arms around his neck.

you feel him grow harder and harder beneath you just how you grow desperate and desperate, you need him badly just as bad as you need him. you'd never ever think that tonight would turn out the way it did.

your hips subconsciously begin to move slowly against his but he grabs a hold of you stopping you, his lips part away from you and you frown at him, he sees this and smiles.

he kisses your neck and you lean your head back giving him even more space, you don't care that you'll probably end up with hickies all over your neck when you feel him slightly bite you, all you need is him.

"i need you so bad." he mumbles against your neck before pecking your neck all the way up to the side of your face, you look at one another before it hits and you share a smile.

before you know it your up from his lap and your hands occupy themselves into pulling his sweats down, when you see the sight of his harden self through his pants you glance back up at him only to see him covering his face with his hand.

you pull down his boxers and he springs free his member hitting you against your nose catching you aback, you stare at him for a moment but a moment too long and he peers down at you.

"don't just stare at it." he groans and you smile, you lick the tip of his cock and the pleasing sensation sends a moan to leave his lips. you tease him, your tounge running around the tip where he's most sensitive and he moans.

he grows to desperate and before you know it his hand comes up to your head, he finds a comfort in your hair before he pushes your head down his shaft slowly.

you breathe through your nose as you take in his size before growing used to it and beginning to pump your head slowly down his shaft continuously causing him to groan quietly.

he uses your head to help him reach his high, pumping you slowly down him but also muttering how good you are occasionally. you feel your eyes begin to water slightly but luckily you don't have to much of a gag reflex.

"fuck, you're so good." he groans as he watches you take him, his hand helping to move your hair away from your face, he closes his eyes tightly as he approaches his orgasm.

his moans become shorter and more intense and it's then you can tell that he's about to release any minute. perfect. you pull away from him and he looks down at you confused.

you watch as he glares at you annoyed, "what the fuck was that for?" he asks you but you don't say anything rubbing your mouth clean with the back of your hand.

his eyes don't leave you once, reading nothing but pissed at the interruption of his orgasm, he watches you as you take off your trousers and pants; his cock twitching ever so slightly as it pleads for your attention.

"you think i'd let you cum first?" you ask him and he furrows his brows in complete denial.

you approach him as you kick away your lower clothes that pool around your feet, glaring at him "fuck me then." you tell him, he watches you with his mouth agape never expecting to see you turn into a completely different person.

you lean against the producing equipment waiting for him expectantly, but when you feel his presence behind you and his hands hold your ass you let out a moan.

he slaps your ass, making you gasp at the sudden pain before he rubs your cheek to soothe it. he pulls out a condom from the inside of his pocket and you turn around to glance at him at the sound of it opening.

"you had that on you all along?" you ask him and he grins taking it out before pulling it over his cock.

"knew i'd need it." and with that he pushes himself into you slowly without warning making your mouth agape.

he waits for a moment until he's all the way in you before he starts to move, thrust in and out of you each time causing you to moan.

your bodies are in sync as he fucks you getting turned on by the sight of you bent before him as he fucks you senseless. he gradually becomes more faster and his thrusts become stronger.

"shit." you moan although your words sound all messed up due to the rocking back and forth you experience from his thrusts.

your hands hold onto the bumpy toggles in front of you trying to find something to hold onto as you take each thrust that runs through you. you're floating in ecstasy and it all feels too good.

he moans many things under his breath that you can't pick up on too busy by being engulfed in the intense pleasure you experience as you gradually approach your high.

you feel his hand reach over underneath you, rubbing your sensitive clit whilst he takes you; the feeling of him inside you, but his hand rubbing on your sensitive bud makes it all eventually unbareable.

your moans become louder and more desperate as you feel your high approaching; once again his hand slaps your ass earning another loud gasp from you.

your hair is held up my his hand and it's obvious your makeup is probably fucked up by now, but at this point that doesn't even matter to you anymore. everything just feels too good.

you reach your orgasm and pant vigorously, he notices this and pulls out of you rubbing himself with his hand as he releases himself inside of his condom.

you rest your head on the equipment in front of you as you both catch your breath, it's only then that you feel your legs become to grow all achy and weak.

"shit, my legs." you laugh to yourself as you wobble; he notices this and laughs tying the condom and obviously throwing it into the bin.

"good luck." he jokes and you roll your eyes.

"i need to shower." you complain feeling all sticky as usual after sex, he hums in agreement.

"i'll shower with you." he smiles.

you attempt to push him away but due to your growing weak legs you fail, instead complaining about how sore they are. seems like central cee has won in keeping you quiet.

"so are we gonna work on the track again?"

"probably not for now."

#central cee x y/n #central cee imagines #central cee smut #central cee #cench #central cee x reader #centralcee #centralceeedit #central cee x you #reader x central cee

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sketches4mysw33theart · 6 months ago

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To Indeed Be A God

The title has almost no bearing whatsoever on the writing, I'm just obsessed with the Dead Poets Society right now.

Pairing: Henry Winter (The Secret History)

Summary: A drowsy morning at the country house with Henry Winter involves a row around the lake, a breakfast picnic, and falling asleep in the boat.

Warnings: Google translated phrases, please let me know if these are wrong!

Check out my previous Henry Winter piece!

I awoke to a throbbing in my head, a contrasting harmony to the soft twittering of birds floating in through the open window. I couldn’t resist the groan that forced its way from my mouth. It felt as though my head was being split open repeatedly, like a misguided executioner was standing at the head of my bed and swinging an unsharpened axe.

It was several moments before I moved at all after I had rolled over, my body feeling scarily heavy yet weightless at the same time. I had little desire to so much as breathe manually, let alone open my eyes and face the merciless joy of the sunlight.

As I lay there, eyes closed firmly, hands grasping the thin silk duvet, flashes of the previous night came to me as though through a camera’s lens.

The dinner, a large affair to mourn the passing of the twin’s beloved dog. The wine sloshing in the Abernathy’s prized crystal wine glasses. Those same glasses raised in multiple toasts and clinking together like blood-soaked moths in the candlelight. Charles at the piano playing melodies of sweet summers past. The bottle of Bourbon passed between us without a care for tumblers. Francis plucking Camilla from the armchair she had curled herself up in to stumble around the library in a clunky dance. Bunny’s face, lined with confusion and acidity, watching us all through rolling eyes. Richard’s reflection, gaping at the chandelier-lit room through dazed eyes, as I stared out of the window, looking for stars but finding only my own distorted face.

And Henry, tall and proud and stoic and quiet. Him I could picture clearly, as sharp and focused as a still life portrait. He’d drank as much as us, more, yet he’d never fizzed over like we did. Only watched from the sofa as we exploded like fireworks, flashing reds and yellows reflected twofold in the whites of his eyes through his glasses.

Then, me falling into place beside him, head spinning in dizzying circles even as I laid it back on the plush sofa cushions with my eyes shut, light popping behind my eyelids.

Then, him whispering to me, the soft, cold anchoring of his deep voice, but either I couldn’t tell what he was saying, or I was not in tune enough to listen.

Then, I was there, waking up in bed.

I opened my eyes when the pounding in my head began to lessen, allowing the bird song to wash over me rather than suffocate me. The thick curtains were open, weak sunlight creeping across the oak floor and furnishings, lighting them up like whisky. It was cool, that early morning chill before the last of the lingering summer heat could settle in again.

I watched the floor for several minutes, praying for my headache to cease. Of course, praying never did anyone much good. Henry would be disappointed.

I didn’t have a clock in the room I stayed in during nights at the country house. Francis’s great aunt, whose room that used to be, couldn’t stand them. She felt they made her rush.

Still, I could guess it was early. There was no noise. Francis wasn’t singing in the kitchen as he made breakfast, Charles and Camilla weren’t bickering meaninglessly in the depths of the house, Bunny wasn’t honking his laugh at some ridiculous jibe. There was nothing except pure tranquillity.

I knew of one other person, for certain, who would be up so early. That was motivation enough to get out of bed. Still, it was a struggle. My body fought it as I sat up, pushed myself to my feet, scrabbled through my bag for clothes, and checked myself over in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable.

Finally, I exited the room, closing the door with a soft click behind me. The hallway was quiet, eerily so, and I paced down it, focusing on the soft, luxurious carpet against my bare feet over the pounding of my head.

On the stairs at the end of the hallway, Francis was curled up, still fully dressed, like a small child unable to stay conscious on a drive back from the beach, snoring obnoxiously and fiercely cuddling a near-empty bottle of whiskey. His overcoat tails were tangled between his bent legs, pale, slender ankles poking out conspicuously from his half pulled-off socks. In the country house, this was not an uncommon occurrence.

I clambered over him, trying not to catch his limbs or face with my foot. As though sensing my presence as he slumbered, Francis uncurled his body, spreading himself out across several steps and out of the way of my bare feet. Smiling, I leant down to pat him gently on the cheek, careful not to disturb him. He looked incredibly peaceful, for once.

I left Francis on the stairs, snoring in the shadows of the half-shuttered windows, and headed towards the library. There was a fair chance Henry would be there and, if not, I would likely spot him on my way over.

As expected, it did not take me long. Henry valued the morning hours, the weak light illuminating the thick pages of his books, the quietness of a dawn tainted only by the songs of the birds.

He was sat outside, of course, fully dressed, a suited silhouette through the ornate glass doors, a splatter of ink against the canvas of autumn. Although I pushed open the doors as softly as I could, his head shot up as soon as it began to squeak.

“Good morning,” he said, with a smile. “Drink up.” A slight gesture of his hand brought to my attention a full glass of water and a sleeve of ibuprofen sparkling in the cool, creeping light.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, fumbling with the package in my desperation to push out two of the pills. When I managed to do so, I swallowed them quickly with a large gulp of water, which I drained gladly straight after.

Once I’d swiped at my lips, I took the few steps to his seat. Standing behind him, I rested my hands on his broad shoulders and bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. I caught the smile on his face, which did little to lessen the furrow of his brow.

“How’s the translation going?”

This question elicited a heavy sigh from him. “It’s all wrong, unfortunately. The verbs won’t translate well, and these sentence structures are ridiculously tricky.”

“Boreís na to káneis éfkola agápi mou,” I breathed into his ear, bringing my fingertips to his sharp shoulder blades. You can do it easily, my love.

He laughed. “Óchi ótan eísai étsi, den boró.” Not when you’re like this, I can’t.

I hummed humorously, spreading my massaging fingertips along his taut shoulders. Spread out before us was the house’s garden, as pure and fierce as Eden, coming swiftly to life in front of my eyes. The sun was just emerging, lingering in the far east like God, watching His creations come to life as on the seventh day. Henry was watching it too, finally relieving himself of his books in favour of the glitter of the autumnal flowers, Gomphrena and Didiscus and Goldenrod.

It wasn’t often I was up early enough to catch Henry on mornings like this. Despite our circumstances, we never shared a bed during our stays at the country house, primarily because Henry didn’t want to disturb me during our short vacations, or so he said. But also, because, I believe, he was rather shy about our activities around the rest of the Greek class. They knew, of course – we were never as subtle as we thought - but, still, there was something prudish lying within Henry. Or perhaps it was possessive. Not that it matters now, I suppose.

“Let’s go to the lake,” he said, suddenly, startling me from my observance of a large bee bumbling its way drunkenly through a flowerbed.

“Now?” I questioned, surprised. Henry enjoyed the mornings because of the quiet solitude they offered him, the time to be alone with his books and his papers. Things he valued even more, I think, than me.

“Would you like to?”

I was still sleepy, even more so after taking the ibuprofen Henry had laid out. Still, I could picture how lovely it would be: the drowsy, sun-laced walk through the dandelions and uncut grasses, the heady smell of nature flourishing around us, the somniferous sound of waves lapping at the gently rocking boat, the mesmerizing feeling of floating on air.

“Yes,” I said, “I would, actually.” Henry was always confidently persuasive. Eerily so. Not that I would have needed much persuading, really. I just liked to think there was something magic about him.

He sighed, stretching out his aching limbs as he got to his feet. Pre-emptively, he removed his jacket and folded it meticulously, leaving it on the seat of his chair. “Good. Perhaps we should take breakfast with us?”

It was a wonderful idea, and we slipped back inside to prepare a breakfast picnic: a full bottle of orange juice, a half-full stoppered bottle of champagne left over from the previous night, a package of strawberries, a selection of pastries bought from Camilla’s favourite bakery on our way to the country house the previous morning, and a packet of large blueberry muffins.

With our breakfast packed in an old wicker basket, we set off into the morning sun, meandering through the budding flowers and tall grasses, clasped arm in arm. It wasn’t a particularly long walk to the lake, but we lingered meaninglessly on the way, I to admire the nature and wildlife, and Henry to momentarily relieve his arm of the picnic basket and watch me with a smile when he thought I couldn’t see him.

Eventually, we made it, and eagerly hopped into the lonesome boat oared at the makeshift jetty, picnic basket still in hand. Considering it was so early, Henry was alive with vigour, and rowed eagerly, pushing us quickly to the centre of the lake. He had been somewhat withdrawn over the last few weeks, particularly during our days at the country house, so seeing him come to life among the falling birch leaves was a gift.

We covered one lap of the lake at a fairly quick pace, talking about our latest classes, Julian’s theory of Dionysiac architects (which was, essentially, that the secret language they spoke was more akin to modern day English than any other language throughout history), and the startling resemblance that morning of the pond and surrounding countryside to Jan Brueghel the Elder’s ‘Odysseus and Calypso’ - one of my favourite paintings.

Henry slowed as we began our second lap of the lake, and I watched his concentrated expression in the water’s reflection.

“Aren’t you tired?” I was feeling a little peppier now, despite the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping gently at the boat, and I knew Henry had been up significantly longer than I had. “Can I take over?”

“No, you don’t have to do anything.” I was still watching him in the warped shine of the water, and he caught my eye through the fairy-dust covering of birch leaves. “Just sit right there and look like you do.” A smile flittered across his face briefly, and I shook my head, laughing.

“If you say so,” I said, still laughing. Henry rowed on and began to fill the silence with his stream of thoughts on Heraclitus’ ideas of opposites, and how the philosopher decreed Hades and Dionysus as the same God, a belief Henry was strongly against. Occasionally he’d break his speech to mumble a suggestion for his translation, which he no doubt tucked away into another corner of his mind for later.

At some point, I lay back across the seat of the boat, head coming to rest on the lip, one hand stretching over to trail in the lukewarm water. Francis had said once that one of the neighbours had seen leeches in the lake, and Bunny always swore blind that there were water snakes in there. Yet, still, we all went out on it as often as we could, swimming and fighting and trailing our hands through the ripples.

Listening to Henry speak tantrically and feeling the warm water kiss my fingertips was as delicious and satisfying as being carried in Charon’s boat across the rivers separating the worlds of the living and the dead. I wanted it to last forever. The best kind of purgatory. Psuche.

But eventually, we did come to a stop, once Henry, with some difficulty, had managed to turn the boat and situate it towards the centre of the lake. I sat up and stretched, groaning at the creak of my bones.

As I heaved the picnic basket up on to the seat, Henry balanced the oars properly, wiped at his brow, and rolled up his sleeves, eying the cutlery and plates I was laying out. He must have been starving.

I looked to him to ask if he had any preference for pastries as I began doling out them onto our plates, but the question died on my lips when I saw a constellation of bruises flowering in a strange pattern along his freshly revealed arm. They were fresh, a shocking purple tinted with red.

“Henry,” I exclaimed, croissant held in one frozen hand. “What in God’s name have you been doing?”

He furrowed his brows at me, following my eye line quickly. I saw him flounder for a moment, but in a flash, he was as composed as the Queen’s Guard.

“Don’t fuss, it’s nothing. I fell in the garden yesterday morning, those damn dogs left more garbage on my front path. Is that for me?”

I believed him, of course. It was a perfectly sensible answer, and certainly not the first time something like that had happened. If only I’d known...

I gave him the croissant, and finished plating up the food as he poured two Mimosas into the old teacups we’d packed, using far more champagne than orange juice. We ate in a comfortable silence, broken sporadically by random thoughts and anecdotes; we were both slipping into fatigue once more now the sun was fully risen, not too warm against our skin, and the inebriating smells of flowers and the birch trees were reaching out to us, woody and smoky like winter night’s gone by.

Four Mimosa’s later (between us), we had finished our breakfast, and were lying, nearly unconscious, in the boat, which was very slowly bobbing its own way around the lake once more. Henry was stretched out completely, arms acting as a pillow, and I was tucked in on my side next to him, resting my head on the broad stretch between his shoulder and chest.

God knows how long we stayed there in the boat, moving listlessly without direction or need, bumping lightly against the bank until one of us made the effort to lift a foot and push us away, listening to the birds' tweet and fly above us, feeling the gentle caress of the birch leaves across her skin, hearing the soft intermingling of our breaths just over the gently lapping water as it granted us passage, seeing the shades of light and dark through the shield of our eyelids. Zoe. The divine life of God.

When we were roused, the air, the very nature around us felt different, alive, charged. The sun was crawling towards the centre of the sky, but several dark clouds were on its heels. Hours must have passed.

I came back to life first, awaking as though from death’s sleep, drowsy and confused. What came to me, however, was the distant call of my name, the familiar cadence of the voice. Francis. It was Francis.

As his shouting got closer and slightly more frantic, I pushed myself up with one hand braced against the smooth wood of the boat’s sole, using the other to first wipe the sleep from my eyes and then shield them from the sun.

Francis was on the far bank, heading towards the small jetty, and waving his arms as though welcoming in a plane. He was, I noticed with some amusement, still wearing the same clothes he was in when I’d stepped over him that morning. I waved my free hand at him, and he shouted my name again. “Are you insane? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Is Henry with you? It’s gone 12, you know.”

I couldn’t muster up the energy to respond to him, but I did lay a hand on Henry’s shoulder to shake him awake. With a bit of resistance, he came to, and sat up in the same sluggish manner as me, stretching out his arms, back, and neck.

Francis called to him now. “Henry? Henry! Bring the damn boat in, will you? Julian’s coming to dinner tonight, and I need everything to be ready.”

Henry waved his fingers at him, a dismissive acknowledgement, a king sending away a disobedient courtier. Finally, he opened his eyes, landing his gaze directly on me. He smiled, pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth so quickly I did not have time to respond. “Piso ston politismó,” he said lowly, a melancholy look setting in his features. Back to civilization.

He situated himself carefully on the seat while I stayed where I was watching him like I was at the feet of one the post-Socratics. He picked up the oars once more and started rowing us back to bios. Back to life.

#dead poets society #the secret history #tsh donna tartt #henry winter #camilla macaulay #bunny corcoran #richard papen #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #donna tartt #imagine #the secret history imagine #henry winter x reader #julian morrow #dark academia #charles and camilla #dark academia books #odysseus

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eternalstateofoctober · 2 months ago

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— 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔦 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔟𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 | AMC’s IWTV

also known as ”local woman is roused to learn editing to deliver everyone this fandom classic” (the video's synced better on desktop)

transcription/video description under the cut:

[video description: a fan video/edit of amc’s ”interview with the vampire” by tumblr user @eternalstateofoctober (me!!) set to a shortened version of lenka’s ”everything at once”. the video clips are cut to the rhythm of the song and its changing lyrics. the song is catchy and upbeat with a light, bouncy rhythm and a whimsical but also slightly melancholic vibe at times. it has a steady beat with repeating piano notes and some xylophone. the video clips are muted so only the song is playing, save for a few voiceover lines and sound effects.

(instrumental intro, repeating piano notes)

the théâtre des vampires orchestra starts playing and another member checks the projector. a watermark with the username @eternalstateofoctober flashes on screen and disappears at the same time as a projector light flickers.

🎵 as sly as a fox 🎵

two clips of daniel after the trial script reveal. first he tosses the script to louis, then he pushes his glasses up and casts a hard look at an off-screen armand.

🎵 as strong as an ox 🎵

armand uses the mind gift to make the coven fall asleep at the dinner table in 2x04, voiceover of him yelling ”enough!” angrily and banging the table. table settings clattering. then lestat using the mind gift at the trial to manipulate louis’ sentence. his left ear starts bleeding. VO lestat: ”banishment...”

🎵 as fast as a hare 🎵

louis sprints at daniel in ’73, making him stumble back.

🎵 as brave as a bear 🎵

clips of young daniel being tortured by armand. first he lifts his gaze, then there’s two clips of him being slammed down by armands powers. last clip is him closing his eyes while armand holds his face. VO of daniel’s grunts and whimpers.

🎵 as free as a bird 🎵

claudia on stage as baby lu mimes opening a window made of projections happily.

🎵 as neat as a word 🎵

claudia writes in her diary in season 1, the clip has a double exposure effect with her pen moving on the page.

🎵 as quiet as a mouse 🎵

a wide shot of the sewers the children of darkness inhabit.

🎵 as big as a house 🎵

establishing shot of the théâtre des vampires building. suddenly the screen flashes black and there’s a quick flickering shot of the talamasca logo on daniel’s laptop screen and a glitching sound effect.

🎵 as mean as a wolf 🎵

close-up of santiago on stage in 2x02, he looks right at the audience seductively.

🎵 as sharp as a tooth 🎵

shots of the vamps baring their fangs. lestat ripping the priests throat out in 1x01, claudia in madeleine��s shop, louis in ’73 showing off to daniel, armand hissing at lestat in 2x03.

🎵 as deep as a bite 🎵

extreme close-up of lestat biting louis at the altar.

🎵 as dark as the night 🎵

madeleine lights a candle that illuminates her face during a power outage. she’s watched from outside her shop window by a curious claudia.

🎵 as sweet as a song 🎵

young daniel embraces armand after armand has manipulated him to accept death. armand strokes his hair and there’s armand’s calm whisper as a voiceover: ”i’ll hold you…”

🎵 as right as a wrong 🎵

claudia’s real turning. lestat looks up from an off-screen louis who’s begging on his knees. in the second clip he’s kneeling next to claudia on the floor and lifting her upper body while louis’ back is still turned to them.

🎵 as long as a road 🎵

louis’ finger taps a spot on a map in the warzone.

🎵 as ugly as a toad 🎵

the vampire bruce cocking his head.

🎵 as pretty as a picture, hanging from a fixture 🎵

lestat’s portrait hangs on the wall in the théâtre’s green room in 2x02, jumpcut to it in flames in 2x08.

🎵 strong like a family 🎵

the de pointe du lac and frenière families pose for a portrait at grace’s wedding. the clip changes to the next with the camera’s flash going off.

🎵 strong as i wanna be 🎵

VO Madeleine: ”mais j'ai survécu.” (”but i survived” in french). shots of madeleine’s past, the trial by mob. extreme close-up of her crying face, the angry crowd surrounding her, her screaming while her hair is shorn. the segment ends with her throwing an iron through her shop window where a group of locals has just painted a swastika. sound effect of glass shattering.

🎵 bright as day, as light as play 🎵

madeleine’s vision of claudia as she’s turned. claudia in a yellow dress in madeleine’s shop, smiling to the camera—at madeleine—and turning to the mirror. the whole scene basks in warm, bright afternoon light.

🎵 as hard as nails 🎵

grace looks up at a slightly off-screen louis in 1x05, a hard, difficult look. they are at louis’ fake grave at night and grace is holding a funeral bouquet.

🎵 as grand as a whale 🎵

two clips after one another. first is louis being buried alive in 2x07, a silent scream as the rocks rush to cover his face. second one is his feet stepping onto the rocks in the penthouse’s sundial room. VO old daniel: ”where’s your coffin?”

(the music quiets and slows down slightly for the next line.)

🎵 as warm as the sun 🎵

close-up of claudia burning in the sun at the trial. she is turning into ash but still looks at an off-screen lestat.

🎵 as silly as fun 🎵

several clips in rapid succession. murder family laughing at a movie theatre, them dancing together—holding hands, claudia cheering riding the sidecar of a motorcycle in paris during the théâtre’s group hunting, armand smirking wearing malek’s glasses, vamp daniel’s tv interview, him laughing at the host.

🎵 as cool as a tree 🎵

real rashid steps slightly forward, hands clasped behind his back with a neutral expression.

🎵 as scary as the sea 🎵

two clips of armand in ’73. first his eyes shake as he slams daniel down with his powers in the background, then him turning slowly—eyes wide—to face daniel that’s sitting in front of him.

🎵 as hot as fire 🎵

three clips showing fire in the show. first: daciana throwing herself into the flames, second: armand’s fire gift, him looking at a flame in his hand, third: the théâtre’s fire starting behind louis as he looks into claudia’s mirror backstage. the mirror reads ”tweedily deedily dead”.

🎵 cold as ice 🎵

louis cuts off santiago’s head, louis smirking, looking down. VO: louis’ satisfied chuckle.

🎵 sweet as sugar and everything nice 🎵

VO louis and old daniel: ”would you like a sample?” ”i’m a savory man most days.” with first a clip of armand-as-rashid’s blissful expression as louis drinks from him at the dinner table in 1x05, then three clips of sweet treats: the strawberry dessert from 1x02 being set in front of daniel, daniel taking a bite of it, then young daniel sipping his grasshopper at mary’s. the clip ends with old daniel’s hand pushing his coffee cup forward, requesting a refill.

🎵 as old as time 🎵

armand stares at a painting depicting him in the louvre, eyes wide, brows slightly furrowed, head slightly turned.

🎵 as straight as a line 🎵

the recording on daniel’s laptop flatlining, him looking at armand, armand smiling warmly at him.

🎵 as royal as a queen 🎵

lestat basks in all his king raj mardi gras costume glory, he smiles widely up at the camera positioned above his head.

🎵 as buzzed as a bee 🎵

lestat on stage in 2x03, wiggling his shoulders, smiling playfully, flipping his coat tails up and bending over for the audience.

🎵 as stealth as a tiger 🎵

estelle and celeste spying on louis and claudia in paris.

🎵 smooth as a glider 🎵

armand floats up the louvre floors as louis and dreamstat take the stairs.

🎵 pure as a melody, pure as i wanna be 🎵

first, a shot of louis and paul dancing at grace’s wedding, smiling at each other. then, a close-up of paul sitting of the roof, turning to look at an off-screen louis as the screen slowly fades to black and another watermark appears. the voiceover is paul and louis’: ”i love you, louis.” ”i love you too, baby brother.”

/end video description]

#iwtv #iwtv edit #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #SURPRISE!!!#not actually because i’ve BEEN talking about this hehe #i drop this at 1am and go to sleep #idk if there’s ever a perfect time to post art but hey. it’s here now!!! yay!!#HAVE AT IT!! ENJOY!!#my firstborn and my first time touching any editing software so if needed approach accordingly i guess #i wanna talk about my thoughts n choices while making this but i’m saving that for another post if i feel like it lol. enough tags for one #ost i think.#louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand #claudia iwtv #daniel molloy #madeleine iwtv #jacob anderson #sam reid #assad zaman #eric bogosian #delainey hayles #bailey bass #roxane duran #luke brandon field #if this gets any notes i’ll be excited as hell but even if it doesn’t i’m still happy because I MADE IT MYSELF #i have a few favorite parts personally that i think are like the standouts. tell me if you have one 👀#ok bye goodnight lol <3

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harrysfolklore · 2 years ago

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please you write beautiful, so I have to ask you to make a imagine of harry and the reader where she and he write together sweet nothing like taylor and joe, thanks 🥺

sweet nothing

something lovey dovey for valentine’s day, i love you <3

MY PATREON | MASTERLIST

Your relationship was still a secret to the world.

They knew about you and Harry working together for his album, Harry's House, but they didn't know about the feelings that sparkled between the two of you, the shared kisses and intimate moments. They didn't know about your sweet nothings.

Sitting by the piano, with your writing journal and pen in hand, you reflected about you and Harry, about how last July you escaped from the busy life and the spotlights, and went away to your cottage in Wicklow, where you spend every second together, falling more and more for each other. You thought about how one night as you stargazed, he told you that your eyes reminded him of the tiny fireflies he used to watch growing up, and how you both promised that whenever life got overwhelming you'd always find home in each other.

I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

The words came to your mind smoothly as you scribbled them down in your journal, during the last few months, you've found out that writing about Harry was the easiest thing in the world.

You were in love, and your songs reflected it.

"Busy there?" his soft voice made you turn you head towards the door, he was leaning against the frame with a relaxed smile and a fond look on his eyes, you couldn't help but melt at the sight, everything about him radiated comfort.

"Just writing songs," you said as you made room for him next to you on the piano's bench, he kissed the side of your face tenderly once he sat next to you before speaking again, "Love songs about me?" his cheeky remark made you let out a breathy laugh, he was right.

"What makes you think you're any good of a muse, Styles?" you decided to tease him, even though he had been your only muse for the last few months, just as you have been his.

"Baby, I'm a great muse! Stevie Nicks said it herself!" his words made you laugh again and you moved your hands to brush away a loose curl from his forehead, taking the opportunity to press your lips to his for a moment. You could never get enough of the other, and you cherished these moments when it was just you and him wrapped up in your little love bubble.

"Remember that poem I wrote on our way home from Wicklow?" you said after a few minutes of silence, with your head against his shoulder, "I do, you never showed it to me tho." his voice was soft and quiet, as if he didn't want to break the tender ambiance around you.

On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "what a mind" This happens all the time

"It is about how I find safe heaven by your side whenever life gets hard" you let yourself be vulnerable, at the end of the day, Harry was the one who taught you that being vulnerable was part of being human.

And Harry could only look at you in pure love and adoration, he felt so lucky that he found someone so honest and real, someone he was willing to protect and take care of.

"You're my safe heaven too, baby. Nothing else matters if I get to come home to you and your sweet nothings" he confessed, every single one of his words touching every fiber of your heart.

You stayed like that for a while, your head against his shoulder and his hand softly caressing your back, scribbling lyrics on your journal and playing soft melodies in the piano. The world outside was full of pushing and shoving, but as long as you got each other you would be alright.

They said the end is comin' Everyone's up to somethin' I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shovin' You're in the kitchen hummin' All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

taglist: @cucciolafaerie e @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles s s @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @noitsmebecky @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @eviesaurusrex @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @harrybabyyyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay @goldensstateofgrace @missmielyhoran @fdl305 @lightsoutstyles

#harry styles fake instagram #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles story #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles au #harry styles headcanon #harrysfolklore #harry styles drabble #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fan fiction #1k #hsfolklore archive

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guitarstringed-scars · 4 months ago

Text

cantaloupe island

masterlist

chapter 2- red clay

as you walk onto the small, makeshift stage you feel completely at home. the restaurant is packed, and you spot familiar faces crowded around. a professor from university, friends, family members, and other acquaintances. you see people you don't know, but you know that they must be here because of their appreciation of the music. well, except for one. one who had introduced himself as atsumu miya.

“oh, my twin brother owns the place, i’m just here to help out. i hate jazz.” he had said after you asked him why he looked so familiar. he approached you as you talked to koutaro, just looking for a pre-show snack. you were very surprised about his jazz comment, obviously you weren’t just expecting him to know who you are exactly, but so openly hating on jazz at a jazz performance seemed ballsy. almost idiotic even.

you see him in the crowd now, talking to koutaro, looking completely embarrassed. red-faced with his hands waving around, and you can only assume he’s talking about what happened moments prior. you turn your attention back to the rest of the audience as you take your seat on the piano bench.

the fallboard is already open, and you lightly run your fingers over the keys before cracking your knuckles. you stretch your back as kuroo addresses the audience. he has his alto saxophone resting across his chest as he clutches the microphone.

“hello, good evening.” he speaks into the microphone, testing it. it’s working. “hope you are all enjoying the food so far, but it’s time to get started with some music. we are the osaka quintet, a jazz group based here in town. we’ve got a great set planned out for you tonight, but i want to introduce the band first!”

the audience claps as kuroo takes a pause, the whole room is listening intently to what he says, sitting on the edge of their seats and hanging onto every word. you catch a glimpse of atsumu out of the corner of your eye, hes gone quiet, and is now surprisingly listening carefully to what kuroo says. hes not looking at kuroo though, hes looking at you. you quickly look back to the piano keys.

“i’m tetsuro kuroo, i’ll be playing all kinds of saxophone tonight, this is hitoka yachi,” he gestures to her and she waves with her free hand. its a quick, nervous wave. “she’ll be on the trumpet… we’ve got keiji akaashi on bass,” a loud whoop goes up from koutaros corner of the room. you laugh a bit. “hajime iwazumi on drums, and the ever so talented y/n l/n on the piano!” you play a quick piano lick as the crowd applauds.

“we’re gonna start you off with a classic standard, red clay by freddie hubbard.” kuroo finishes with a smile before starting off the song.

every one of you freestyles at the beginning, before kuroo gives a nod. you all fall out except for iwazumi, who starts it off again. akaashi joins him after a bit. then it’s your turn. you focus in, making sure to hit every note perfectly. your eyes subconsciously flutter closed as yachi and kuroo join the rythum. the crowd is almost silent, you can tell they are all intently listening.

as the solo section approaches, you quickly take it away first, communicating with the rest of the quintet through intense eye contact. you’ve played this song many times before, as kuroo said, its a classic standard. your highschool jazz band wanted to play this song every performance, and you knew with the osaka quintet, all of you would know how to play the song.

during your solo, you focus in on the drum beat that iwa is playing. you lock your eyes on his right hand, watching it hit each beat. each note you play hangs in the air as the audience seems to breath it in.

as you come to the end of your solo, you lock eyes on kuroo. it’s his turn to take over. you fall back, taking a breath as kuroo starts his solo.

as the solo section comes to an end, the group all focuses, finishing off the song. you laugh, hitting the final notes. the audience whoops and cheers, as yachi and kuroo sip their waters. you look into the audience again, spotting atsumu. your eyes can’t seem to stop looking at him. he’s smiling, chatting with his brother. you hope he is coming around to liking jazz.

“alright, next up is night in tunisia!” kuroo announces.

fun facts:

-bokuto and y/n are like best friends but they never talk or set up plans with each other

-akaashi hates soloing, but surprisingly yachi loves it

taglist: @hyenagoated @yuminako @griocriedpower @lilchubbyyy @sagejin

@oshygoshy @sereniteav @jojo23allegra @atsumuenthusiast @mikauraurr

@garfieldissocool @savemebrazilhinata @osakis-gf @acowboykisser @froyaoya

@nbcvs @mylahrins @19calicos @wyrcan @chloiyoomi

@causenessus @diorzs @loverlunaire @s1ckntw1st3d

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader smau #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya x y/n

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lumosinlove · 4 months ago

Text

@oknutzy-week-2024 day four!!!

Write Me In

Part Two

Leo tried very hard not to be early. He really did. Then he ended up walking around Finn and Logan’s block about six times and sweating in the heat. He was stupid. He should have just worn a t-shirt. From what it sounded like, they were only just waking up. He didn’t need to be in this dark blue button down.

When it finally hit two o’clock, Leo let himself walk into the lobby. The doorman looked up and called him by his name, taking Leo by such surprise that he had to stutter through a yes, sir as if he was back home in New Orleans.

“Mr. O’Hara’s expecting you,” the man said. “You can go right up.”

The elevator was all mirrors and gold and Leo tried to make himself look slightly less sweaty and nervous than he felt as it rose—and rose. Penthouse. He should have known. He swept his blond hair back. At least in the AC he felt cooler—if not a little flushed looking. His shirt hid any sweat and he had his laptop and recorder this time. This would be a proper interview. He’d make sure of it. After all, this was his dream.

The doors dinged open. Leo had thought he’d have a few more moments. He’d get to walk down a hallway, knock on the door.

But no. One moment he was in the small elevator, and the next he was stepping directly into a massive, open living room. It was beautiful, too. The couch was a huge low-backed leather U. A coffee table that looked like it had once been a cross section of a massive tree was covered in notebooks and a laptop. A dining room table that could hold ten rested just on the other side of the room beneath a papery light that looked more like a sculpture. To its left sat an actual bar, complete with six stools, shelves of backlit bottles, and beer taps. The wall beyond was pure window and the afternoon light slanted in. Leo didn’t see a TV, but apartments like these usually had them concealed somehow. Maybe a projector screen waiting to drop down. Maybe there was a theater room. He knew a lot of artists had recording studios right at home. Who knew how big this place was.

It was also perfectly quiet. Leo didn’t hear a sound. He felt like he was an intruder as he hesitantly stepped out of the elevator and listened to it slide shut behind him. Maybe he should’ve taken his shoes off? The rug beneath the couch was pure white and plush, and the hardwood floors beyond that were honey-colored and gleaming. Four guitars sat along one wall. Beyond the huge dining table, there was a grand piano.

How many of Leo’s favorite songs had been written in this room?

“Kind of freaks me out sometimes.”

Leo jumped and turned at the voice, only to find Finn standing there in running shorts and a t-shirt that said The Strand Bookstore. He held a sleek gray ceramic mug.

“The windows, I mean,” Finn said with a smile. “I always worry about them cracking. Sometimes they rattle during storms.”

“That’s…unsettling,” Leo said.

“Yeah, Lo hates it.”

Finn looked, yes, a little sleep-rumpled. His red hair looked like it had been styled for a photoshoot to be messy though, not like it was actually slept on. Unfair, Leo thought. His hair was a wreck in the morning. He’d been right about not needing his button-down, though. He badly wished he was in a t-shirt and that he’d worn sneakers instead of these pinching dress shoes.

“What a beautiful place, though,” Leo said. “That’s quite a view.”

Finn’s eyes wandered behind him out the window. “Yeah, I like to see the city.” He held up his mug. “Well, Lo’s fucking grumpy when he wakes up, but coffee helps. Can I get you some? I was going to order some breakfast, too.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Finn smiled and jerked his head in a way that Leo guessed meant follow me.

The kitchen was no less impressive. There were huge marble counters, slightly iridescent. A complicated looking espresso machine. Massive silver appliances—fridge, wine fridge, dishwasher, three ovens. God, what Leo could do in this kitchen.

“Wow.” Leo turned in a slow circle. “Do you like to cook?”

Finn laughed. He’d gone over to the coffee pot—probably the simplest thing in here. “If I was ever home long enough to try, I might.”

All this, and no one was even home to use it.

“And Logan’s hopeless,” Finn said. “He can make tea.”

Leo laughed. “Right.”

“Do you take milk or sugar?”

“A little milk,” Leo said, and accepted the mug. “Thank you.”

Leo sipped the coffee. It was good. Strong and nutty. It calmed him a little to hold something warm. Finn had poured the perfect amount of milk in.

“He’ll be up in a second. Or I’ll go get him.” Finn looked a little bashful. “It takes us a while to—wind down after a show, we usually don’t get to sleep until around three or four.”

After a show. Leo could see them still, pressed up against the wall in Finn’s dressing room. What the hell did wind down mean in this sentence?

“No worries,” Leo said. “Where um. Where do you guys go next?”

Are you dating your drummer? Is your drummer dating you? Do you think of him as your drummer? Or Lo? Are you best friends like you make the world believe? Are you just fucking? Are you in love?

He took a sip of coffee.

“Boston,” Finn said. “We just came back from the West Coast. Then we have about a month off before we go to Paris. Then London, then Ireland—you get the idea.”

“It must be fantastic to see all those places.”

I had your poster on my wall. You got me through some of my toughest times in high school. I can’t believe I’m seeing your smile this close up.

“It is when we have days off,” Finn said. “But mostly it’s just a grind.”

“But if you had to choose a favorite city?”

“Rome,” Finn said instantly.

“You wrote your most recent album there,” Leo said.

“Yeah.” Finn smiled down at his mug. “Yeah.”

“Leo,” Finn he said suddenly before Leo could ask another question.

Leo straightened up. Finn O’Hara just said his name. “Yeah?”

“I know…” Finn smiled a little. “We both know what you saw in my dressing room last night.”

Leo had been wondering if this would come up. Or, how, really. Finn pushed his hair back and Leo watched the strands feather forward again. He had a flush to his cheeks.

“We do,” Leo said softly. “I’m so sorry about that. Your team—one second I was following someone and the next I was at your door—”

Finn nodded sharply and Leo stopped talking. He messed with his hair again. “It’s not your fault. I’m just—what I’m trying to ask—” Finn’s eyes went somewhere behind Leo and he smiled. “Finally. He lives.”

Leo turned towards a doorway he hadn’t noticed before—it must lead to the bedrooms—to find Logan shuffling into the room wearing nothing but a pair of white socks and tight, grey boxer shorts.

Leo choked on his next sip and hurried to put the mug down. God, how could Finn not be dating that? There on Logan’s hip was that tattoo. The fleur-de-lis. Right there, real, not a photograph. It was slightly lower than Leo had thought.

“Salut,” Logan said. His voice was hoarse. “Sorry. I’m not…” he looked at Finn and put on what Leo guessed was a try at Finn’s American accent. “a morning person.”

“That you aren’t,” Finn agreed. “Even if it’s nearly three in the afternoon.”

“Hi,” Leo cleared his throat. “I mean, good morning.” He looked at Finn and pointed to his mug. “Do I need a coaster?”

Finn looked back at him quietly for a moment. He had a tilt to his head and a slight smile on his face. “No.”

“Okay. It’s just that sometimes marble stains so I wanted to check. I read this article about different ways of protecting—I mean, not that I have marble counters. But I definitely would like some. They’re beautiful. This is a beautiful kitchen.”

What the hell was he talking about?

“I’m glad someone appreciates it. We certainly don’t,” Finn said. He took down another mug from a cupboard and Leo watched as he poured the coffee, lots of milk, and even more sugar into a mug before passing it to Logan, whose fingers had been drumming idly on the counter while he waited.

The lyrics to Lucky Me popped into Leo’s head.

Let me fill you up with sugar, let me drown in sweet and sweat.

He looked at Logan and found him already watching Leo over the rim of his cup.

“Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. So, maybe, um. Maybe once you’re ready we can—”

Logan cut him off. “Aren’t you supposed to follow us around twenty-four-seven for a week?”

Leo swallowed. Oh. “Oh. Yes. Yeah, no, I am. I just…I want this to be as comfortable for you as possible. I don’t want to feel like an intrusion. I’m here for whatever your normal life entails.”

“Right now…” Finn was scrolling on his phone. “That’s breakfast burritos.”

Leo quickly figured out that Logan made him nervous—more than Finn. His green eyes were intense, to say the least, where Finn’s were almost unbearably gentle. Leo had thought that was all for the cameras, a look designed to be photographed. But Finn seemed to look at everyone like that. Logan, definitely. The doorman who brought up their breakfast when it arrived. Even Leo.

Finn also responded to Logan’s movements like he was just an extension of his own body. It would be impressive if Leo didn’t think it was so sweet. He arranged the sauces Logan liked in front of him, took out the bacon from his burrito and put it on his own plate, all before Logan even had time to sit down. The smile Finn received from Logan in return felt private. Intimate, even. Logan’s entire face changed when he looked at Finn. It opened up. He looked younger.

It went right back to guarded when he looked at Leo.

“All right,” Finn said after he set down water bottles for the three of them. They were sitting at a little table in a nook off the kitchen that Leo hadn’t seen before. Finn and Logan were side by side, across from him. Leo had his burrito and coffee to one side of him, and his laptop and recorder set up on the other. Finn snapped a mocking finger gun towards him. “Shoot.”

Leo hesitated. It didn’t seem like Finn was going to finish what he had been about to say to Leo. Possibly ask Leo not to write about what he’d seen? He’d stopped hard when Logan had walked in. Leo was slowly getting the sense that what he’d seen was much more than a kiss.

Maybe that was what was behind all of the looks Logan was giving him. Fear.

“Well,” Leo said, brushing crumbs off his hands. He cleared his throat. “Okay—” They were both looking at him expectantly. Well, Finn looked expectant. Logan looked a little wary. Leo’s resolve dropped. “I just want you to know that I won’t write or publish anything that you don’t approve first.”

There. That seemed like the easiest way.

The two of them exchanged a glance.

“Isn’t that a given?” Logan said flatly.

“It is,” Leo said. “But I still want it to be said first.”

He made himself hold Logan’s gaze. His eyes looked vividly green in the kitchen light.

No, you don’t—say much—but I read—your touch. You fall—I sigh—Oh my—green eyes.

“Oh,” Leo said out loud.

“What?”

Just slowly realizing that it’s possible you two only write songs about each other?

“Nothing,” Leo said. “Why don’t we begin with how you two found yourselves in a band together?”

“People already know this,” Logan said.

Leo smiled. “Yes, people do know this, but I’m not going to use someone else’s quotes in my story.”

Finn stretched his arm out across the back of the breakfast nook’s bench, behind Logan’s back. Would that have been around his shoulders if Leo hadn’t been here?

“We met in high school, started the band there. Then we had a falling out but we both got into Harvard,” Finn said. “We were matched randomly as roommates.”

It was a smooth, well-practiced answer to the absolutely wild story that Leo had heard before. It left no room for further questions.

“Must have been a shock.” Leo wanted to ask what the fight in high school had been about, but he didn’t think the room was nearly warm enough for that yet. “Or fate?”

“I like fate,” Finn said. Logan kept his eyes down. “I mean, look at us now.”

Leo kept the easier career and life questions going for the next couple hours, then they took a break. It was getting closer to five o’clock and Logan went to take a shower. Leo was preparing to go back out into the summer heat, just to give them some breathing room, when Finn picked up his guitar and began asking him questions.

“So, do you even like our music?”

Leo gasped. “Oh my God.”

Only at the surprised, maybe delighted, look on Finn’s face did he realized he’d completely dropped any professionalism right there. It was all Leo could do not to slap a hand over his mouth. Besides, Finn O’Hara was sitting in front of him, plucking some gorgeous little melody out on a guitar Leo happened to know he’d had since he was sixteen, and smiling—he could probably afford to let his guard down a little.

“I’ve loved your music since your first album,” Leo said. “And Rooftop is my favorite song in the world.”

“Rooftop,” Finn repeated softly. His fingers were still moving on the strings and Leo was trying not to stare. They were strong and quick. Subtly, the unfamiliar melody shifted into Rooftop.

“Oh,” Leo said, not bothering to pretend not to watch anymore. “I’ve never heard it on the guitar.”

“Why is that song your favorite?” Finn asked. He didn’t sound hurt exactly, but something like it. Brittle, maybe. “Just… Most people like the upbeat stuff more. At least that’s what I’m always being told.”

“Well…” Leo cleared his throat. “The way you talk about how sometimes it feels like you’re just barely holding on by your fingertips to something you want. That’s true for a lot of people I think. Waiting for someone who isn’t waiting for you back.” He thought of Logan’s eyes on him in Finn’s dressing room last night, Finn’s mouth on his neck. “Or maybe they are and just didn’t know it yet, I don’t know. But I listen to it all the time.”

Finn was leaning forward a little in his seat, listening.

Leo smiled and looked down. “I mean, I like the upbeat stuff, too. But yeah.”

“We’re around the same age, aren’t we?”

“I’m a few years younger than both of you.”

“Back then, I always thought it was just, like, twelve year old girls listening. Not that anything is wrong with twelve year old girls, but when you’re seventeen you don’t exactly want…” Finn winced. “Please don’t quote me on any of this.”

Leo laughed. “No, I understand. But also, no, it wasn’t just twelve year old girls. And it certainly isn’t now. At yesterday’s show—it’s incredible the range of people you captivate.”

Finn shrugged a little and switched back to the melody he was playing earlier.

“Can I ask what that is?” Leo nodded to the guitar.

“You can.” Finn huffed out a laugh. “But I’m not sure yet.”

“Ah. So, I’m watching the secret process right now.”

“You are. Gotta warn you, though, sometimes it’s like watching paint dry.”

“What’s the fastest time you’ve ever written a song in?”

Finn’s fingers fumbled, just for a moment. He looked out towards the windows, the city and sun. It was beginning to lower in the sky now.

“Oh,” he said softly. “About twenty minutes, I guess.”

Leo opened his mouth to ask what song it was, but stopped. Now Finn looked hurt. Sad. The guitar seemed to drink the feeling in. Leo heard him slip new minor chords into the notes, a tumbling, beautiful sound. Then he was suddenly playing Rooftop again.

“Would you like a cocktail?” Finn asked suddenly.

Leo looked over at the beautiful bar. “I think anyone would want a cocktail at that counter.”

Finn smiled. He settled the guitar on the couch and stood. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? I had it custom made for the space. Usually I wouldn’t give a shit, I’m never home, but I’ve always wanted to do it.” He went behind the bar. “Also. You can help with something. Lo and I are always at a bit of a impasse.” Finn put a hand to his own chest. “I like to taste the alcohol. Logan won’t touch anything that doesn’t taste like someone dumped a load of frosting into it.”

“So, he’s a sweet tooth.”

“Oh-ho yeah. Understatement. You know that edible cookie dough? Take a look in our fridge.”

I watch you fill your cup with sugar.

Finn read that thought clear as day. He bit his lip, elbows on the bar. “You’re putting us together a little bit, huh?”

“I won’t put anything together you don’t want me to.”

Finn glanced in the direction Logan had disappeared to.

“You’re under no obligation to explain it to me. I should have knocked loud and clear.”

“No, we…We’ve talked.” Finn fixed him with intent brown eyes. “We’ve talked. We love each other and…”

So they are in love, Leo thought triumphantly.

“It’s just that we don’t know what comes next.”

“I understand,” Leo said. “Really. Just…” Leo set his hands in front of him, trying to pour truth into his words. “I’m not here to, like, drag anything out of you. I’m here about your music, that’s my job, that’s what I love to write about. If what you two feel for each other is something that is not only important to that but that you’d like to tell me about, that’s wonderful. If not, that’s wonderful. And we also don’t have to decide now. Okay? Please don’t feel like you have to tip toe around me or my pen.”

Finn was looking at him with a slight smile on his face. He gave a small nod.

“And please tell Logan that, as well,” Leo said. Leo wasn’t sure he’d get those sentences out as smoothly under Logan’s gaze.

“Okay.” Finn swept his hand out towards the shelves behind him. “Gin? Whiskey? Tequila? Rum?”

“Rum,” Logan’s voice said from behind Leo. He appeared a moment later. His wet hair was combed back and out of his face, his skin flushed from the shower’s heat. He wore a dark green t-shirt, stretched across his strong chest and gray sweatpants. In his hand was a pair of drumsticks.

“Well, I wasn’t asking you,” Finn said. “Leo, please. I can make anything.”

Logan slid onto the stool beside him. “It’s true, he’s very good.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Leo said.

Finn gave his head a hard shake and hit his hands down on the bar. “Nope. I want to know what you want.”

Finn ended up fixing the two of them gin martinis. He gave Logan his rum and coke with, to Leo’s surprise, a kiss to Logan’s hand. Logan blushed, glanced at Leo, but didn’t pull away. He took his drink and his drumsticks over to a stool where a muted, practice kit was set up and began tapping out rhythms. This was not what Leo had been expecting when he took this job. He expected it to be wilder, like some of the pure and chaotic party scenes he’d been apart of when following musicians around before.

Night Swimming was soft. Domestic, even. Finn and Logan’s wildness on stage melted away into something tender. Finn brought out cheese and crackers and sliced apple and, as Leo sank into the massive comfy couch, he found that as the sun set, he wasn’t asking questions anymore. They were, the three of them, simply talking.

“So, so, so,” Cassie’s voice said in Leo’s AirPods. “How’s it going, you’re four shows in now you lucky duck.”

“That I am,” Leo said, looking around his Boston hotel room. Tonight was Finn and Logan’s third and final Boston show and Leo was basically in seventh heaven. Maybe they were all in hotel rooms now and he missed their cozy apartment a bit, but he couldn’t complain. He got to write about his favorite band and watch them perform every night?

And hear about their love. More and more. During their time after the show, at dinners, in dressing rooms, in Finn or Logan’s suites—and there was a suite for each of them even if it seemed like they only used one. During those times, they told Leo things. Little details about them, not as singer and drummer or best friends, but as a couple. Leo could feel the difference. He didn’t know why exactly he was being allowed to know these things when no one else did, but he let them give what they wanted to give.

“It’s good,” he told Cassie, but his mind filtered through what good was. Good was knowing how far Finn’s voice stretched as he warmed up in his dressing room. It was alone and strong. They were just scales and the occasional lyrics, but Leo could have listened all day. He also dropped to the ground and did rounds of push-ups which, while unexpected, wasn’t horrible to watch.

“I have to say though, I’m not entirely sure what happens next.”

“What do you mean?” Cassie asked.

Leo popped another salt and vinegar chip into his mouth. “Well, they’re going on vacation. Somewhere. They’ve got a month off before they’re back on tour, so I’m not sure why the magazine scheduled me for now. It’s not a full week before they leave.”

“Well, your week will be basically up. I’m sure you’re not expected to go on vacation with them.”

“No, no, I know that,” Leo said. Damn, he thought. “I’ll just—I have closing things I need. Want. Hope to ask.”

Cassie was quiet for a long minute. “Well. Better hop to it, I guess.”

“Will you hold this? Finn’s busy.”

Leo looked up from his notebook to see Logan holding out one end of what looked like an exercise band. He was dressed for the stage already. Black jeans, black tank top tonight. His hat had a Bruins logo on it—sometimes he did that. Matched his hat to the city. In New York, he’d been wearing Finn’s Rangers hat a lot and Finn had expressed his disgust at the switch many times. Leo had put it in the story.

“Sure.” Leo set his pen down. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just hold this steady.” Logan put one end of the band into Leo’s hand. “I like to warm up.”

Leo still didn’t quite know what that meant, but he did what he was told.

Turned out it meant getting a front row seat to the flex of Logan’s arms and wrists as he pulled the band in different directions and angles.

Suddenly, two hands appeared on his shoulders. “Hi. Would you like some tea?”

Leo held the band tighter while craning his head back to look behind him. Finn appeared to him, half upside down at this angle. “I—Yes. Sure, thank you.”

Finn smiled, squeezed once, then let go. “How’s the writing going?”

“Good.” That was half true. Sometimes, he was on. There were whole chunks that were solid and good. Then there were parts of Leo’s notebooks that were a mess of phrases which sounded far too mushy to be a proper article. “Really good.”

The music…God, Leo could have written about their songs for hours and hours—he just had to be careful not to cross any lines into what he was quickly suspecting was the true territory of the songs. Love songs. In Leo’s opinion, the best kind of love song—when the two people they were about were right there, in the same room as each other.

Logan had switched to the other arm, opening himself up to being taken by the hips by Finn and sweetly kissed.

After, Logan smiled a little at Leo when he took the stretching band back. Still guarded, but it was improvement. “Merci.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Or, you’re welcome.”

He winced at himself as Logan went over to drum a bit on one of his practice pads. Leo tried to pick up the song, but it was hard without the melody until Finn, waiting for water to boil, started singing.

Oh, I wish that I was someone else so I could watch us being.

Go and love a stranger so I can see how you hard you love me.

In his notebook, Leo wrote, In the middle of warming up—which involves more push-ups and stretching than I would have thought—O’Hara stops to make me a cup of tea.

Fuck. It sounded like a diary entry.

Warming up is taken as seriously as it would be by any sports team. Tremblay prepares his body as thoroughly as his instruments.

Was that too…? Leo set his pen down and stared at the page.

Tremblay stretches in front of me and I swear to God I can see every muscle in his back.

O’Hara just squeezed my shoulders. I heard Rooftop on the guitar for the first time and it wasn’t at a show, it was in his living room and he looked so sad. He looked so sad.

When they kiss, I want to watch the gentleness between them on loop until the end of time.

And an even quieter, even more secret thought: I want to be kissed like that.

“Here we go.”

Leo looked up. Finn carefully set down a steaming paper cup. “I put a little honey in it like mine. That’s what I have before we go on.”

“That’s perfect.” Leo smiled and held the cup up to his nose. It smelled sweet and a little like licorice. “I��ll consider it research.”

Finn smiled back for a moment and Leo was reminded of the first time he’d met Alex. They both had that soft stare. It was aimed right at Leo.

“Your hair’s the color of honey,” Finn said. Then he picked up Leo’s pen and wrote down, honey!!! then winked at Leo and walked away.

The show was wild and fantastic, as usual—and it rained. Rained. Hard. The screens showed Finn, red hair dark and dripping against his forehead, his face raised to the sky. Water flew up in droplets from Logan’s drums, backlit and mesmerizing. Leo was soaked despite the VIP tent by the time it was over and shivering a little in his t-shirt as the night cooled down.

He made his way backstage, trying not to drip on everything as he knocked on Finn’s dressing room door.

A grinning Finn with Logan under his arm swung it open for him. He was soaked through, they both were, but he didn’t seem to feel the cold. Adrenaline, probably. Finn held so much of it after shows he practically shook.

“We’re going out to celebrate and you’re coming with us.”

“Great,” Leo said. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to fight the chattering of his teeth. “Where?” He was taking in Logan now. He looked—well, soaked and kissed. Maybe Finn was just extra affectionate after shows.

“Just a bar. My brother, some friends. And you because you’re coming.”

“And my sister will be there,” Logan said.

“Which one?” Leo asked—which maybe was weird that he knew there was more than one? But they had to be used to being Googled. Right?

“Noelle,” Logan said. “And her boyfriend, Thomas.”

“I won’t kill your vibe?” Leo asked.

“Everyone knows we’re doing your interview,” Finn said. “I think we should give you more than just, like, us fucking around backstage and, you know, working.”

“You guys are pretty serious,” Leo said. Which wasn’t very true. Finn was always putting Logan in headlocks, Logan constantly hid Finn’s things from him. “But thanks. I’d love to come.”

“Good,” Finn said.

When they began peeling off their sweaty and wet stage clothes, Leo kept his eyes respectfully down, mostly, and wished he had something to change into, too. He could try to run back to his hotel, but he didn’t feel like having to chase their party down. He resigned himself to being damp and hoped a drink or two would warm him up.

“Here,” Logan said, and something soft and warm was being pushed into Leo’s chest.

It was a sweatshirt—Finn’s sweatshirt, probably, by The Strand Bookstore logo on it. Though maybe it was Logan’s, bought in New York or maybe stolen from Finn.

“Oh…” Leo looked at Logan. Those green eyes really did deserve songs to be written about them. “Thank you.” Leo said.

He pulled the sweatshirt over his head and was sure it was Logan’s. It smelled like the cologne he wore—nothing too strong and intense. It really was just like he’d bottled something piney and sweet.

When he was sure no one was looking, Leo ducked his nose a little into the collar.

Somehow, suddenly, it was four-thirty in the morning. Leo was pleasantly buzzed, a little exhausted, and squeezed up against strangers in a booth. He wasn’t so pleased about the squeezed part, but it was a good vantage point. As it turned out, Finn was a dancer—even when not many others were dancing. He was just as good as he was on stage. All hips and smiles.

Logan was not a dancer—but he watched. Leo watched him watch Finn. There was a quiet sort of intensity to it. He chewed on the straw of his rum and coke, crunched on ice cubes. An hour later he was all but shredding a beer label, and had his eyes on Finn and he’d lost his hat somewhere—oh, Finn’s head. It was getting warm in the bar. The place kept the doors open and Leo was sweating in Logan’s sweatshirt, but he didn’t take it off. He could see Logan’s sweat, dark on his temples. Finn had to be sweating, too, but he didn’t look it. He just looked happy.

Finn wandered over to Logan and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. He didn’t kiss him, but he got nice and close like he might, singing words to a song Leo didn’t know and grinning.

How had the world not figured it out yet? They might not be so obvious as kissing, but Finn and Logan certainly weren’t subtle. Was a narrative of that’s how they are, that’s their friendship really so strong?

With a smile, Logan shoved Finn back out onto the floor where someone joined him—two someones. Alex and a dark-haired girl Leo had seen around. For a brief moment, across the room, Logan’s eyes met Leo’s. Then he ducked out onto the balcony. Leo wasn’t positive it was an invitation, but he wouldn’t miss it if it was.

“Excuse me, sorry,” Leo mumbled to the guy next to him. It was a bit of a mess, making these people get up. He wasn’t sure why they were all sitting there. It wasn’t like it was easy to hear each other over the music anyway. Leo was happy to rise.

Remarkably, the night air felt cool. The balcony was higher up than Leo had expected, looking down at the city below. Logan had his back to Leo, elbows on the railing. He glanced behind him when he heard Leo approaching, and the red and blue city lined his profile. He looked just like he did on stage, only calmer. Quiet. Truer to how he actually was. Leo couldn’t image putting on a show like that every single night.

“I need a break from people sometimes,” Logan said, as if answering a question Leo had asked.

“Oh. I can go—”

“No,” Logan said. “I just mean crowds.”

“I bet,” Leo said. He went to the railing and mirrored Logan’s position. That was actually an old trick he’d been taught. Apparently it made interview subjects feel at ease. Really, he’d just wanted to see the city and feel the cold metal of the railing on his skin.

“It’s hot in there.”

“Ouais.”

“Finn really loves dancing.”

Logan cracked a smile and took a drink from his beer bottle. “You’d think he’d run out of energy.”

Leo laughed. “I’m out of it just looking at him.”

“That’s Finn for you…Realest thing in the world.”

Realest thing in the world. What a quote. Leo knew he wouldn’t have to write that down to remember it.

“Who is he dancing with?”

Logan swallowed. “Hannah. She was at Harvard with us.”

“Hm.”

“They dated. In college.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, then glanced Leo’s way. “Before I took what was mine.”

Okay, hot. Leo had to smother a pretty pathetic sounding breath.

“Hm,” Leo said again. “Can I…Can I ask something?”

“That’s your job.”

“It’s pretty personal. And you don’t have to answer.”

“I know that.” Logan said, and then just waited, looking back out at the streets.

“What happened after high school and before Harvard?”

More waiting. More of that intense, Logan-silence. Part of Leo was pleased that he had such a thing to associate with Logan, that he’d spent enough time with him for that. Leo didn’t push him. He stirred the ice cubes in his drink and took in the rest of the balcony. A few chairs. Ash trays.

“We used this bookshop’s basement to practice at night,” Logan said suddenly. “All the other stores were closed, it was below ground, we weren’t going to annoy anyone.”

Leo could picture that. Guitar and drums, maybe one of their ever rotating bass players—it must get hard, trying to bud in on two as tight as Finn and Logan were. Writing and playing late into the night.

“But one night when it was just us there was this…” Logan shook his head. “Merde, I’d say snowstorm but it was more like… Just it was like the world blinked out.” Logan scratched wet-paper trails in his beer bottle’s label. “It felt like it was just the two of us left in the world.”

“You got snowed in?”

Logan nodded. His eyes were far, far away. Green, deep forest.

“We slept together,” Logan said quietly.

Alarm bells that every good reporter should have went off. Logan had been drinking. Leo had asked the question but it was still his duty to make sure it was truly okay to get the answer. “Does Finn know you’re telling me this?”

“Ouais. We talked about you.”

Okayokayokay. Leo felt like his entire body was trying to keep his heart from pounding at that sentence. Oh, to be a fly on that wall…

“Okay,” Leo said carefully. “Still, if you want to have this conversation another time—”

“I’m not drunk,” Logan said. He looked down at his beer. “I had one drink two hours ago and this tastes like shit, I’ve been holding it for a fucking hour.”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Not sweet?”

“Non, not at all.”

Well, Leo was glad he knew. Sometimes with the stars, it was a problem. They spilled out gorgeous sentences and feelings no matter how Leo tried to stop them when they were loose-tongued and then wouldn’t let Leo use a word of it the next morning.

“And like I said,” Logan said. “We…I wouldn’t just be telling you this if Finn didn’t…You know.”

Leo thought of all the details he’d been picking up, and then even more unspoken ones. He could see that they wanted him to know. He just wasn’t sure why.

“It was the best night of my life.” Logan leaned on the railing, his hand coming up to touch his mouth. “It was… We wrote Only Two that night.” Logan smiled at the memory and closed his eyes. “Like, in twenty minutes, it was insane. Right after we…well.”

Leo loved that song. Back in high school, he hadn’t thought of it as being about making love, but being older now, he could tell.

There are only two

Things I want

For only the two

Of us

Two more turns on this dark road

Two more inches of skin exposed

Two more minutes of this bliss

Two more hours not to miss

Two more decades of your light

Two more centuries of this night

Only two (two) two (two)

Want me, too (too) too (too)

After this conversation, he’d never listen to it the same. He’d picture some grimy basement, and snow—and he’d picture Logan and Finn…

Two more inches of skin exposed.

No. No, Leo thought to himself. You’re professional. So very professional.

“And then I pretended like nothing happened.” Logan straightened. He turned his face away a little.

He could be professional and still let his heart ache at that. A memory surged at him without warning. A voice that he tried his best not to remember. Get the lights, will you?

“Why?” Leo tried to keep the word gentle. Logan seemed like he wanted to get this out, and Leo wanted to keep it at his pace.

“I don’t know. I got scared. I thought we’d never—I don’t know. We wanted this massive thing, to play our music, that almost no one gets and I didn’t want anything to mess it up. We fought. Finn wanted to be together. And then I said…I said things I didn’t really mean, but I said them. And he was crying.” Far away eyes again. “He was crying.”

Finn, crying. Leo couldn’t put it together with the grinning boy inside. When Logan turned to look, so did Leo. Finn was facing them, half obscured by a wall of people he was chatting to. It was hard to tell through the glass and with all the reflections from outside, but Finn might have looked at them.

“And…and we stopped talking.” Logan turned away. “We didn’t talk all of Senior year, or the summer before college.”

“But you got into the same school and showed up to the same dorm room.”

Logan snorted out a laugh, rubbing a palm over his face. “Merde. Oh my God, Leo, you have no idea. Our faces, seeing each other? Our parents’ faces? I thought I was going to die that first night, I walked in on Finn playing the guitar, and I thought I was going to die.”

“Wow,” Leo said faintly.

Logan let out a delighted laugh. Leo blinked, surprised, but couldn’t help but smile. That was a contagious sound. A rare one?

“Sorry, I mean—at least we can laugh about it now,” Logan laughed through the words. “I was going to lose my mind. I can’t tell you how much I missed him. I remember missing him now and I miss him when he’s, like, asleep next to me. That’s how bad I…” He broke off suddenly. Leo watched his throat move around a swallow. “That’s how bad I fucked up.”

Leo knew he wasn’t supposed to give his opinion to the subject of his pieces. As the writer, he was supposed to listen and organize. But his mind was telling him to comfort Logan. He wanted to do what he’d seen Finn do earlier, he wanted to know how warm Logan’s waist was through his t-shirt.

“On the topic of the songs you write together…” Leo took a breath. “Can I ask about Rooftop? You always leave the stage when Finn plays it. Is that—I mean, it’s a solo for him, I know that, but…”

Logan frowned and didn’t answer for a long time. Leo let him sit. It was a fine line, seeing that a subject had opened up, but then pushing too hard. Leo was beginning to worry he’d crossed that line when Logan spoke.

“I can’t listen to it. That’s why I leave.” Logan rubbed at his jaw and went to mess with his hat before remembering Finn had it. “Really, I can’t watch him sing it. I can’t watch what was my fault.”

Leo had had his suspicions since he’d walked into the dressing room, but this confirmed it. “It’s about you.”

Logan’s mouth was tight when he gave a small nod.

“I refused us for a long time.” Half a smile crossed his face and he sang the brief melody. “Long, long time.”

Leo smiled, too. It felt like it was okay to do. They were together now, weren’t they?

“It’s my favorite song,” Leo admitted.

Logan looked surprised. “It’s so sad. You don’t seem like a sad song person.”

“I don’t?” Leo laughed. “What kind of person do I seem like?”

Logan looked at him for a moment, then back at the city, shrugging with an almost bashful look on his face.

“And…” Leo felt a little giddy, like a sleuth figuring out a mystery. “Green Eyes.”

Logan laughed. “Ouais.” He took a sip of his beer and grimaced at the taste. “Fuck this shit about some French girl. Quote me on that.”

“Seriously?”

Logan sent him a look. “Maybe. Ask me later.”

Leo nodded. “Promise.”

Logan’s smile was gentler this time.

“When did you get together for good?” Leo asked, then realized what he said. “I mean—I mean, you look pretty solid, I didn’t mean to assume.”

Logan smiled. “Oh, he’s never getting rid of me now. I’ll never forget it. It was…maybe a year ago, I guess? No, a little more. While we were writing our most recent album. In Rome, actually, we rented this place and after those months, I didn’t think I’d be able to be far away from him again. And I mean, like, other side of the room. That felt far away.” Logan looked up, remembering. “We were pretty off-and-on until then, making out, fucking, not talking about it.”

Leo blushed. “Mhm.” Making out fucking not talking about it.

Logan sent him a sideways glance. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m listening.”

Logan narrowed his eyes playfully and turned his body towards Leo. God, his shoulders.

“Non, you’re a baby tomato. Tell me.”

“Oh God,” Leo laughed, putting a hand to his cheek. “Shit, I am, aren’t I? Well—No. Okay. All right, confession.”

Logan smiled and leaned forward. “Ouais?”

Leo pressed a palm to his own chest. “I am a fan. Quite a big fan of you both. I’m also. Well, I’m gay. I’m having a bit of a moment realizing two of the people around my age that I’ve always admired,”—You’re also unbearably hot, both of you—“shared more with me than I ever thought they did. Especially because—your music really helped me through some bad times.” It was Leo’s turn to look down. “Some bad guys.”

Now all that intense Logan-silence was trained directly on him.

“Bad guys,” Logan repeated softly. “Bad to you?”

He said it like it was madness, like he couldn’t believe it.

“It was a long time ago,” Leo said.

“What’s that mean?” Logan shrugged. “They were bad to you?”

“He,” Leo said. “Really just…he was.”

“Bad…Bad how?” Logan asked in a hushed whisper. He took a step forward, nearly right into Leo’s space.

“Nothing like—just…” Leo sighed as he stumbled over his words. “He wasn’t happy with how he wanted me. He probably wished he didn’t want me at all.”

More of those uncomprehending narrowed eyes, as if Jack, whose name Logan didn’t even know, had offended Logan by offending Leo.

“What a shit,” Logan said—and there was a snarl to it. Logan Tremblay, who had known Leo for all of a week, had just snarled about Leo’s shitty ex-boyfriend.

Leo laughed. “Yes. Understatement. Very.”

They were close now. Close enough that Logan could reach out and untuck where the collar of Leo’s sweatshirt had folded wrong.

“Oh,” Leo said. Logan’s fingers had brushed his neck and Leo fought that shiver hard. “Yeah, thank you for this. That rain got cold.”

Logan stayed quiet. He withdrew his hand, but he didn’t step back. When he looked up at Leo, he had that open look that Leo had only seen him give Finn.

“You know we chose you,” Logan said. “Right?”

Leo only had time to half let that sink in and half wonder what the hell it meant before a knocking came from behind them. “Hey-hey.”

They both turned to see a dark haired girl—this was Logan’s sister, Noelle. She smiled at Leo and held out her arms to Logan.

“Wanted to say bye, I’m taking off, Lo-bear.”

Lo-bear. Leo hid his smile in his glass but Logan caught it anyway as he hugged his sister tightly.

“Have a good vacation,” Noelle said and squeezed him tighter for a moment. She planted a kiss on his cheek and whispered. “You deserve it.”

“Merci.”

“Don’t wreck mom and dad’s house.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

Noelle pulled back and patted his cheeks. “Love you.”

Leo looked between them. Logan was different like this. He wasn’t a pop star. He wasn’t considered on of the best drummers in the current music scene—maybe the world. He was a baby brother.

“Je t’aime,” he said softly.

A version of the voice he saved for Finn, maybe. Leo wondered what it was like to hear them say it to each other. I love you.

People began spilling out on the balcony after that. Maybe noting that Logan Tremblay was out there. Leo and Logan got tumbled apart, but Logan caught his eye across the crowd. Between them lingered unfinished words. Leo shrugged one shoulder and gave him a smile. You chose me? What does that mean? What in the world does that mean?

Logan frowned. He set his beer bottle down, still full, and began to try and push through the crowd to Leo. It was hard. People kept wanting to speak to him. Logan looked like he was trying hard not to snap at them.

“Hey.”

Leo turned and found Finn there. Sweaty, tall, love-eyed Finn. He was definitely tipsy. No Logan-conversations for them tonight.

“Hi,” Leo said. He glanced back for Logan, but he’d lost him.

“We’re going to Logan’s family’s house in Nice tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Leo tried, he tried to keep his heart afloat. That felt—he didn’t feel ready. He didn’t want the week to end. Maybe it was hero-worship. Maybe he was starstruck. Maybe his heart didn’t know what to do with the proximity. Was Finn telling him that they were finished, that they were going on vacation—

Finn reached for Leo’s hand and tucked something into his palm, closing Leo’s fingers around it and covering it with his own. “I’ll send the car for you.”

The crowd whisked him away, too, leaving Leo standing in the summer night to uncurl his fingers.

It was a guitar pic, and scrawled across both sides in tiny writing, were two phone numbers.

#o'knutzy week 2024 #o'knutzy #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara #finnlo #lelo #sunfish #band au #popstar au

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leclsrc · 2 years ago

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hi auds bear how about a “singing off-key in their parked car and suddenly a person outside starts laughing” blurb with charles (-: feel like that is so him

take a chance on me – cl16

Damn ABBA and their catchy songs.

auds here... moping over my 3h meeting that effectively bars me frm watching the gp i hate uni! :( love u guys i love this req kskkskd

Charles hasn't gotten that godforsaken ABBA song out of his head.

It’s gotten to the point where earworm infects even his physical movements and he starts holding up an invisible mic like some demented Meryl Streep wannabe. It’s embedded itself into his pre- and post-race routines now, but he’s smart enough to do it alone in his room, because if any member of the team saw this embarrassing schtick, he’d be good as dead.

His car ends up being a constant concert venue. He usually drives in the dark, when meetings are over, or in early mornings, when nobody’s around to sneak a peek (not that they should, but fans are pesky) and he’s free to pretend he’s embodying a sickened heartbroken woman’s voice.

It’s chillier today than last week, which to him warrants a car concert warm-up. He cues the song on his speaker system and starts preparing. He’s on drums today, because his last two performances he was on piano, but he’s always on vocals, whistling and yelling the high parts. If you change your mind... he sings, nodding his head to the beat.

This is all Lorenzo’s fault, seriously—the prick couldn’t stop playing it at lunch two weeks prior and now Charles is paying the price. But he isn’t exactly complaining (If you put me to the test, if you let me try!) In the midst of his performance he tries to remember what the meeting is about. New hires, if he recalls, for the marketing team or something. They want to run some things by him and Carlos, or someth—

In the middle of his high note the song stops; he thinks maybe someone might be calling. His voice cracks in the silence. Oh, and somebody is watching in confusion a few feet away.

He realizes it’s a pretty girl, clad in a jeans and a knit jumper, squinting and cocking her head to the side a bit.

You’d hurried around to try and find the source of the ABBA music you’d heard when getting out of your own car. The culprit, it seems, is not a tinny forgotten speaker but an adult man in his car. You blink. The adult man is also, apparently, the race driver you’re supposed to be in a meeting with in five minutes.

You smile. And then you just burst out in a quiet laugh, unable to hide your pure amusement. He swallows. And then he blanches, unable to hide his pure embarrassment. In less than a second he’s turned off his car and disembarked, scrambling to explain himself.

“This is so embarrassing,” he says profusely. “You see, I am—”

—

“—just practicing singing, you see, for a play,” you recount to your friends, laughing so hard your cheeks and stomach hurt. You could never tire of this story, told and retold during parties and dinners alike. Who wouldn’t love this story? It’s a silly one of how you met the love of your life.

Lando had said once the unorthodox meeting was probably the mark of your true love. Some others said it was the fact that you’d been together so long. Others, your compatible careers. Others even said it was the music taste.

You smile as you finish, and Charles braves the teasing just to see you content and happy.

Maybe that’s the best marker of true love there is—not that all the prior ideas are invalid, it’s just. Maybe this is the realest one. It’s also, Charles realizes as he seeks your eyes, the hardest marker to describe. It’s an emotion and a verb all at once, in the very quiet and very intimate unexplainable way.

He thinks—no, he knows—that true love feels like an inside joke. It feels like the click, inaudible and fuzzy, that reverberates through his body when finally your eyes seem to take the hint and meet his. It feels like the laugh, the gigle only two of you share. It feels like a quaint smile. It feels like the story you two have told before and will tell again, with peals of laughter and hands held tight together.

The whole true love thing is a confusing prompt with so many answers, and he could consult anyone to help him out—his mum, his brothers, his best friends, maybe even squeeze his eyes shut and try to send a message of question to Jules or his dad—but none of them would come close to describing this feeling.

He knows love happens to people who’ve known each other their whole lives. He knows it happens to friends, to enemies. Naturally, it happens to strangers—tied together by some invisible string that shortens and overlaps and knots in itself and finally is struck by the fates to bring two people together. Call him biased, but he thinks he’s lucky he falls into the last category. Okay, call him cheesy, but he’ll admit he’d do anything to have you any way in any other life.

If in another universe you were a childhood friend with some corny nickname, or a rival whose eyes would soften when an argument tapered into a confession. Even then he’d love you. He might love you differently, but he could never love you more.

Now is the best, he thinks. Now you’re the funny girl in the pretty dress with a bottle of beer and laughter escaping your sunkissed face. Now it’s 1,095 days later and he still loves you, just as much as he did three chilly Octobers ago, when you smiled amusedly at him in the parking lot of Maranello. Maybe this time it’ll be a different ABBA song you both sing.

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

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wordsarelife · 2 years ago

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if you’re thinking of writing anything w regulus black x reader 💓💞 like hc’s about what he would be like in a relationship (would he open doors for u, tie ur shoelace etc etc, restaurant dates) or where reader is all like enemies to lovers with him ?? thank u bby

—dating regulus black

pairing: regulus black x reader

summary: headcanons of being in a relationship with regulus black

warnings: none

authors note: did it a bit different than you asked, let me know if I should do a prequel or anything!!

reading your favourite book to him on the astronomy tower, while his head rests in your lap and you're combing through his hair

he's more of a listener, so when you're having dinner in the great hall, you engage in loud conversation, while he just sits and listen, holding your hand under the table

picnic dates where you swap previously read and annotated books and lay on a blanket all day reading them

brought you a record player from hogsmead, that he keeps in his dorm, so you can listen to your favourite songs while you're spending time with each other

he sometimes dances with you in the dark of the astronomy tower, the first time he had said that all the lessons he took had to be good for something at least

swapping love letters or just short little poems you read and wrote down that remind you of each other

regulus is a really thoughtful person, you sit next to him in class and he often brings you quills and paper, because you often forget them. he has always an extra set for you

you're always wearing one of his rings, at the same time he never takes of the little friendship bracelet you had made for him even before you started dating

you're the only one who's allowed to call him 'reggie'

on those evenings you can't sleep, or everything just gets too much, he stays awake with you and reads your favourite chapter of your favourite book, waiting until you eventually fall asleep in his arms

he often buries his head into your hair, because he loves the smell of it. you never stopped buying the same shampoo after you had noticed that

as stated before, he doesn't talk much around other people and he's not really a big fan of pda (he's more of an behind closed doors kinda boy and generally a very private person)

but what he does is say little phrases of encouragement, during school or just sometimes when he deems fitting. for example: "keep going, baby" or "you can do it, sweetheart"

he's used to you so much, that sometimes he just knows when you need time to cool off, so he keeps quiet and combs through your hair

he thinks its funny when you get mad about something someone else did, you're a big ranter. he just watches you, smiling, as you run around the room and utter different sentences in disbelief

occasionally when you do that, you will turn to him and ask him things like: "do you believe they've done that?" and he will answer: "that's really shitty of them, baby"

honestly, he doesn't even care about the others (obviously he does when anyone hurts you etc) but he could listen to you rant for hours

you go to every single one of his quidditch games, enjoying just watching him play

after the games, you often find yourself in the slytherin common room at the piano (just imagine they had one there) while he teaches you note for note how to play it right

every time regulus shows you how to do something (like dancing or playing the piano) he's very patient with you, never rushing or raising his voice when it takes you longer to figure something out

overall you have a super healthy relationship, because you’re honest with each other and talk a lot about your feelings. that wasn’t easy for regulus at first, but you grew up in a pretty loving and open household where you regularly discussed you’re feelings so you helped him learn how to do that. at least that way you could teach him something too.

#regulus deserved better #regulus black x reader #regulus #james x regulus #regulus black #harrypotterimagine #datingregulusblack #harry potter #the marauders #marauder era #regulus arcturus black #regulus x reader #regulusblack #regulus x y/n #regulus fanfiction #headcanon #harry potter headcanon

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goldenchimmy · 1 month ago

Text

Rest

Pairings: Min-YoongixFem!Reader

CW: slight undertones of depression, but mainly cute fluff!

You visit your boyfriend at his recording studio and convince him to take a break.

Yoongi sighed as he tapped a few random keys on his keyboard. The man slouched in a comfy office chair inside his recording studio. He had been there for almost thirteen hours now. As he had been the past two weeks.

He had mentioned to you about working on a new solo album. And that could only mean one thing. Less night's at home with you and more nights spent away, recording and writing for who knows how long. Yoongie never seemed to get any rest when it came to his music.

It was one of the reasons you had fallen in love with him.

He was a perfectionist when his career was involved. When his heart was fully into something. And this new album seemed to be just the thing for now. Of course, he loved you as well. He would send you short messages to let you know that he was still alive at least. And that he didn't somehow decompose and merge into his recording chair.

But things like this always worried you. The last time something like this happened, he had come home and collapsed from exhaustion. He slept for two days straight after that. Only getting up to use the bathroom.

But now, even as you kept calling him, he wasn't answering. It was getting late and the dinner that you had made had gone cold on the table. You were pretty sure he forgot tonight's date night. Which wasn't a new thing, but still.

So, you made up your mind as you picked at your food. You were going to go down to his studio and check on him. Maybe he needed a break or at least a coffee! Something to keep him awake. Not that you planned on leaving without him.

------

When you pulled into the studio parking lot, you grabbed your bag and the two cups of coffee you had made at home. One for you and one for Yoongi. You used the elevator once you were inside the tall building, tapping your foot impatiently as you watched the numbers climb higher and higher.

It was times like these that made you think of him. When the world was quiet and asleep. And you were alone.

You had met yoongi during a period in his life where he had been very sad and lost. Not knowing what to do next with his life. You had been friends. Acquaintances. You hadn't talked very often, but you ran in the same crowds when you two were young. Your families knew each other.

You had started crushing on him the second his hands had touched a piano key. Playing an old song that he had written the tune to. His voice quiet as he mouthed words. You had watched him, knowing that he was going to do great things one day. And now he was. He was a famous producer, rapper, Idol.

He had it all. And he had you. The two of you started dating about three years ago. You started talking about home and were checking on him when you asked to meet for coffee. And the rest was history. It turned out that the both of you were completely content with each other. You both liked sleeping and lounging around. You liked music. And you really liked to drink on occasion.

The soft elevator ding shook you out of your trance, the metal doors opening slowly to the floor of the building. Your walk was short as you made a few turns down the hall. Nodding at a few security guards as you passed them.of course they knew who you were. It wasn't the first time you'd visited your boyfriend while he (or his brothers) were working on music.

You moved one cup of coffee next to the other in your arm, hurriedly typing in the password to unlock the door before you used your foot to push through the entrance. A small smile on your face as you took in the familiar sight of the recording room. A black couch against the wall. The soundproof room on your left.

But that smile was quickly replaced with a frown once you saw your tired, stressed boyfriend slouched over his recording equipment. The laptop playing through loops of song chords through headphones that were attached to it.

The older man was rubbing his temples, his black hair disheveled and covering his round face. His black jacket draped on the back of his chair, leaving him in a white tank top and baggy sweats. His usual attire.

"Yoongi?" You called softly, causing the man to jolt up, turning in his chair to look at you. His eyes had bags under them and he looked defeated.

"Oh. Hey baby." He smiled his gummy smile. His voice low and groggy. Like he had been dozing on and off by accident. "What're you doing here?" He hummed, holding his pale arms out to you. A smile crossed your face as you walked over to him, setting the full cups down on his desk. Before you took a seat in hid lap, his arms coming to close around you gently. His head instantly buried in your neck.

"Bringing you coffee. And checking up on you. " you spoke, leaning your head back on his shoulder. "You haven't been sleeping." You pointed out, frowning as you moved in his lap.

Your legs now hooked over the arms of The chair, your back to the other side. Effectively being almost cradled by the man. Your hands moved to push his hair back from his face, your thumbs rubbing under his eyes gently.

Yoongis eyes closing a bit as you did, a sigh leaving him before he yawned. "Mm...sorry." He mumbled, turning to kiss the side of your wrist. Almost missing it as his head fell, his forehead resting on your shoulder now.

"It's okay baby. But...maybe it's best if you come home tonight. Get some sleep and some real food." Now that you looked around, the empty Ramen cups became more noticeable. A deeper frown settling on your face. "Come on big guy." You poked him gently on the cheek.

Yoongi stirred slightly before sitting his head up, his eyes mere slits as he shook his head. "I gotta show you something..." He whispered, scooting his chair across the floor back to his keyboard.

He gently maneuvered you where he could position his arms over the keys. Your eyes watching as he began to play a simple melody. It made you smile as you sat there and listened.

Yoongi, the man that he was, wrote a song just for you. And now he was playing it for your ears only. A private little event, even if he was beyond exhausted. He didn't have many ways of expressing his love for you, but with music, he could do anything.

And he loved you more than words or a song could describe. The way your smile lit up his dark soul. The way your laugh made his bad days better. Even when you would make him angry, he still loved you. You were the very thing that kept him grounded.

When the song ended, he sat back in hie chair. Sipping now at the coffee you brought him. "Like it?" He asked, yawning once more. To which you nodded quickly, a few stay tears in your eyes. "I loved it. I love you." You whispered, kissing over his face and making him sleepily chuckle.

"Mm...whole album, just for you." He smiled, his hands rubbing your pajama clad thighs.

"For me? Baby, I don't need a whole album. I just need you to take care of yourself." You laughed slightly, sniffing just a bit as you moved to stand. "Come on." You breathed, grabbing his hands now and helping him out of his chair. Making the tired man groan childishly.

"What for?" He asked, watching you search for his shoes. You pointed to his jacket. "Grab your things. You're coming home tonight."

Yoongi stretched, reluctantly getting his stuff. His shoes now on his feet. "But...the music. My album." He protested. You just shook your head and sighed. "It'll be here when you come back. But right now, I'm your music. And you don't want me to leave do you?" You set your hands on your hips.

Yoongi quickly shook his head, walking towards the door and past you. "Good," you spoke, "because you're going home, eating, showering because you smell, and then you're going to cuddle with me until you sleep."

Yoongi nodded. He liked when you were bossy towards him. Most days anyways.

And once the two of you had gotten home, and yoongi had eaten two servings of dinner, he showered and groggily climbed into bed with you. The TV on and casting light out into the dark room.

His head met your chest as you were propped up against the headboard, his arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled against your warm skin. A smile on your face as you stroked his clean hair.

"Mm...thank you." He mumbled softly into the quiet. Your lips curling into a small smile. "For what?" You asked.

"For saving me." He responded, before snores left him. His body completely relaxed against yours as you continued to hold him. Still stroking his hair.

"I love you too." You whispered, before you turned the TV off and joined your boyfriend in sleep. Knowing that you would always be here to pull him out of the darkness.

#bts #bts army #bts suga #yoongi #fanfic #fluff #bts fluff #min yoongi #agust d #suga bts #bangtan #cute

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thecampjuicebox · 1 year ago

Text

I got a request for this fic in my inbox and the message literally DISAPPEARED but I made a note of the topic so here it is. Hoping the person who originally requested this finds it because I feel so bad that I can't respond directly to their message :(

Worship you

Pairing: Gale x Tav(f)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: Smut, body worship, teasing, oral (f/m giving/receiving), piv sex, degradation, spitting, slapping, praise, dom Gale x sub Tav, fluff, aftercare

Warm steam billows up in large clouds around you, the hot bath water making your fingers tingle as you swirl your hand around to distribute the sweet smelling bubbles. Pillar candles flicker around you, adding to the calming atmosphere. Baths are a normal gesture of love in your little tower in Waterdeep. Gale usually being the giving party. Tonight is different. His studies have enveloped him, mountains of tomes and parchment filling his library, much to your dismay. Walking into that cursed room is an impossible feat lately. You're regularly spoiled by his acts of kindness and love, the thought of you doing the same for him often leaving him flustered. He turns you down so often that you're frightened by the notion of trying. However, his tight shoulders and many nights spent sleeping at his desk have proven just enough that he needs a night of pampering.

You sigh quietly to yourself and place his favorite book next to the bath, making sure it's at a safe distance from the water, lest you have to endure another lecture from Gale about "respecting the integrity of text" after your last debacle of wetting the pages of a book during your own bath. Your fingers trace over the gold inlayed words. "The Art of the Night." A novel detailing the first one thousand nights of a newlywed king and queen. Your first memory of the book floods your mind, Gale's gentle voice permeating the silence of the tower around you.

"They turned everything they did into an art. The art of conversation. The art of taste, time honored and newly acquired. The art of the body. The exploration and acceptance of the self and the other. The art of the night itself. I say we take a page from their book."

A shiver rattles your spine at the thought. The love between the two of you followed this book closely in the beginning, the new sensations and feelings needing a map to navigate. Gale's previous lover and goddess, Mystra, tainted the sweet taste of love. For Gale, and subsequently, for you. Everything felt so brand new. Fragile. Now, you would think you'd spent centuries in each others' arms. A bond so perfect, authors only dream of articulating it within their pages. You mumble a quiet incantation and the grand piano down the hall comes alive with a song. "The Lliirian Suites". The very song that played the first night you ever spent with Gale. You take a step back to examine your work, eyes flicking from bath, to book, to candles, to little plate of fruits and cheeses you'd spent entirely too long arranging on a silver plate. Perfect.

Earlier that afternoon you had sent Gale to the apothecary, a long list of various items and Tara in tow. You figured it best the Tressym accompanied him purely to make sure he didn't stray too far from his assigned task. A trait Gale possessed that was both incredibly infuriating and unbearably charming. The familiar sound of the heavy oak front door opening jolts you from your train of thought. They're home. Making quick work of your silk dress, you toss it over a small bench against the wall and sit on the edge of the tub, shivering from the mixture of cold air around you and warm steam at your nude back. Legs gracefully crossed, you wait. Gale's heavy footsteps ascend the stairs, a small chuckle breaking from his throat at the song choice. Hungry eyes fall upon you the moment he rounds the corner, basket of various herbs, potions, and salts falling from his hands and landing on the hardwood floor with a thud.

"Gods, look at you. No artist could capture this moment and do it proper justice. Come to me, my love."

Featherlight steps carry you to your lover, the exaggerated sway of your hips making his mouth water. Soft hands creep their way up your thighs to your sides and yank your small frame towards his. Gale nuzzles his nose into your warm neck, inhaling your familiar and comfortable scent deeply. His eyes fall on the scene behind you and he sighs quietly.

"Did you do all of this for me?"

You nod and back yourself up from him, hands clasping behind your back, ever so slightly pushing your exposed breasts forward. Gentle lips brush past your forehead. He moves to the side of you, fingers lingering against the sensitive skin of your stomach before coasting along the horizontal length of your ribcage and over your arm, you turn, following him as he walks toward the tub. A goofy grin plasters itself on his plush lips.

"You really are a treasure, my dear. Join me?"

Careful hands work his robe off of his torso, boots, leathers, and undergarments following soon after. He runs a hand through his chestnut hair and settles himself into the hot water with a joyous hiss, free hand extending to help you into the tub. You oblige, stepping into the hot, bubbly water and settling on his lap. He hugs your body tightly to his, pressing sweet little kisses up one shoulder, along the back of your neck, and down the other shoulder, one hand holding your hair up and out of his way. His free hand travels down your front, nonchalantly pressing your thighs apart. An intense shiver makes your body jolt in Gale's lap and he chuckles, holding you down against him. Gentle hands pry Gale's arms away from you and you turn towards him, fingers crawling their way up his bare chest.

"No no. Tonight is about you. Your pleasure."

"Pleasuring you gives me more pleasure than words could possibly describe. You know that."

Your eyebrows knit together in frustration. Gale is nothing if not incredibly stubborn. The obvious pout on your face makes Gale frown, hands floating at his sides now. You blink up at him sweetly and press gentle kisses around his beard, nuzzling your nose playfully into his cheek before whispering to him.

"Please let me do this.. I've wanted to for so long. You deserve it."

Gale captures your cheeks in his hands and stares down at you, deep eyes softening at your request. The warm water and bubbles shift around at the sudden movement, swirling together around your close bodies. The candles flicker, light dancing off of Gale's eyes and the single silver earring dangling from his lobe. You could drink him in like this forever. Spend eternity right here in his arms. Hours seem to pass around you, just staring at each other, filled with so much love you might explode like the Netherese Orb. Instinctively, you lean up and peck a kiss to his lips, lingering there for a moment, eyelids fluttering. He sighs happily against your lips and melts into the moment. His back and shoulders loosen their tightly wound posture as he releases your face and rests his elbows on the edge of the tub.

"What do you say we.. Move to a more comfortable location? One with much less of a drowning hazard."

The wizard chuckles loudly and stands, scooping you up swiftly into his arms. The chilly temperature of the tower assaults your naked frame and you cling to his warmth tightly, little bits of suds and bubbles fizzling away at the loss of contact with the water. He carries you to your shared bedchamber and sets you down, retrieving two large towels to dry yourselves off, the smooth fabric soothing the sudden sting of cold air. Once dry, you take a seat on the bed, right leg crossing over left, eyes watching Gale. He's blissfully unaware of your hungry stare as he dries off, back turned to you. His modestly toned back, hips, thighs, ass, the way his wet hair sticks to his shoulders, it all drives you wild. You crave him. Crave to worship him. Show him the love and devotion a willing follower shows to their God. Gale's attention turns to you, cheeks burning at the realization that you've been staring. Devouring him with your gaze. He saunters over to you and places his hands on your shoulders, fingers drumming against the bones there. You grin and stand, quickly spinning him and shoving him to the bed, the sudden movement earning a gasp.

"Gods, Tav.."

Your lips press to the side of his neck and rest there, sucking a little dark circle into the flesh. Gale groans, head falling back. The sound fuels you. Fuels the growing warmth between your thighs. Your lips curve into a devilish smirk against his skin and you settle yourself onto his lap, his already hardening cock pressed against his thigh. Eager hands find your hips, guiding them to grind back and forth against his throbbing length beneath you. You mewl, moving your lips down the side of his neck to his chest, mumbling quietly between each kiss.

"You're so beautiful, Gale. 'kiss' Every inch of you is perfection. 'kiss'"

Gale's hips buck up against you, a strained moan settling deep in his throat, hands grasping your thick hips hard enough to bruise the pale skin. Your lips move lower, tongue flicking out playfully against his nipple and he whimpers at the new, but not uninvited, sensation.

"You're a God. 'kiss' My God. 'kiss' I wish to worship you until the sun melts and the world goes dark. 'kiss'"

Shuddering breathes meld into full pants as Gale watches your lips move over his trembling body, cock twitching against your skin. He rests back on his hands to watch you work, fingers twisting and gripping at the silk sheets, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Gale has never been worshipped. Especially not in his previous relationship with Mystra. Each word you speak is new. Tantalizing to the brain. Intoxicating. You allow your lips to trail further towards his stomach as you slide off of his lap and to your knees between his legs, hands finding purchase on his thick thighs. Sloppy placid kisses speckle Gale's ribcage, stomach, and hips, lips stopping to occasionally suck on the skin, leaving your mark. A giggle escapes you at the sudden jolt of Gale's hips towards your mouth.

"Mm, patience, my love."

A rough hand moves down to the back of your head, fist grabbing at your soft locks. Not pulling, just holding you there. The threat of being forcefully moved exactly to where Gale wants you making your cunt throb. Gale's cock weeps just next to your cheek, a shiny bead of precum resting in the small slit at the tip. You grin up at him and hold eye contact as the tip of your tongue darts out to collect the clear fluid, making a small circular motion around the aching head. His mouth falls open at the sight and sensation. A labored exhale heaves from his chest. You close your lips around the swollen head and bob up and down agonizingly slow. Eyelids fluttering closed, Gale guides your head, hand still firmly wrapped in your hair, his free hand reaching down to gather the stray strands into one neat ponytail. Eager hips buck up into your mouth, the tip of Gale's cock brushing the back of your throat ever so slightly. You allow one of your hands to travel down your abdomen and to the mess between your thighs. Trembling fingers dip into the wetness there. You moan against the throbbing length in your mouth, the vibrations earning a loud groan from your lover. He tugs your head upwards by your hair, cock slipping out of your lips with a pop, line of drool and precum connecting the two of you. You flick your tongue outwards to gather the rope of clear fluid, moaning at the taste.

Gale releases his grip on your hair to smooth the tangled mess down against the back of your head, a gentle kiss to your nose making your cheeks burn a deep shade of crimson. Even amongst the filthiest activities, Gale always finds a way to be sickeningly sweet. Your swooning is cut short by strong hands lifting you from your knees and slamming you onto your back into the mattress. A loud yelp forces itself from your lips.

"As much as I enjoy being worshipped.. I can't help myself. You're so filthy for me. Such a good little devotee. It would be a shame if I didn't get to watch you squirm."

Gale drops to his knees, large hands holding the backs of your thighs up and apart, the strain on your hips making you whine. Without hesitation, he buries his face into your sopping wet cunt. Little slurping and sucking sounds echo through the bedchamber. You bow your back off of the bed and move your fingers into Gale's still damp hair, tugging and yanking with each flick of his tongue against the painfully swollen bundle of nerves at your core. You whine loudly, head tilting back into the plush mattress, the wizard's tongue working you furiously towards an orgasm. Each pass of Gale's tongue sends electric shocks up your spine and down your legs, your hips wiggling and bucking to keep constant contact. He pulls away slowly, just the tip of his tongue trailing through your folds one last time before standing between your legs, hands coming down to press into the mattress on either side of your head. Your scent lingers on his lips. Beard soaked with your slick, he leans in to kiss you. Deeply. Passionately. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest and he chuckles at the obvious quickening of your breathing. A large hand wraps itself gently around your warm neck, thumb resting at your pulse, feeling it change beneath the digit as Gale presses the tip of your cock to your slit.

"Gale p-please.."

Grinding your hips upwards earns you no release, Gale backing his hips away from you teasingly. A loud whine erupts from your chest and Gale tuts quietly, the hand around your neck moving upwards to shove his thumb into your open mouth.

"Now now, love. Patience, remember? I know you're such a needy slut for me. You can wait a little bit longer."

Another whine sounds against Gale's prodding thumb and his eyebrows knit together, scowling down at you, pulling the thumb away from your desperate tongue. A firm slap lands against your cheek and you mewl in excitement, eyes lighting up. His hand gasps at your cheeks and squishes them together, your lips parting slightly at the pressure against your jaw. A thin rope of spit leaves Gale's mouth and drops into yours. You grin at the taste and swallow. A delicious mixture of your slick and Gale. He grunts down at you, shaking his head as he lines his cock up with your slit once more.

"So dirty for me. Gods, it's taking every ounce of decorum to not absolutely ruin this pretty little cunt of yours. I don't know if you deserve it. You're not being good. I should surely punish you for the way you're acting."

You quickly shake your head and part your thighs more for Gale, hands resting obediently at your sides as you wait for him to bury himself inside of you. You walls clench around the emptiness. Harsh nails leave deep indents in your plush thighs as Gale shoves your legs open even further, a familiarly painful burning sensation lingering in your hips. Your teeth catch your bottom lip to silence a whimper. The tip of your lover's cock dips just inside of your hole, resting there, the tightness making Gale's dizzy head fall back against his shoulders. The slow inching of his cock inside of you drives you absolutely mad, fingers grasping impatiently at the sheets beneath you. Temptation finally overcomes Gale's actions and he ruts into you harshly. The thumb slick with your spit finds it's way to your clit, rubbing back and forth quickly. Loud moans and whines melt together with the subtle slap of skin on skin contact.

Seconds turn to minutes turn to hours, your sweat covered body aching for release. Each time you climb to mountain and gaze over the precipice, Gale pulls away, tearing you down from your earth shattering climax. He loves to toy with you. Loves to watch you squirm underneath his hands. Loves to leave you a begging, sobbing, trembling mess. Tears flow freely down your cheeks as you cling to him, hips crashing together at a dangerously fast pace. He holds you steady against the wall you two have relocated to, one hand behind your head to shield you from hitting it against the brick. The friction of Gale's course bush against your overstimulated clit is enough to send you over the edge without warning, tired walls spasming around the throbbing cock inside of them. Gale groans loudly, the side of his fist pounding against the brick as he releases into you. Thick spews of hot cum make you shudder against Gale's sweaty frame. You sob loudly as he continues to fuck into you, back bowing off of the rough brick that's been scraping your flesh with each thrust. His movements finally slow, chest heaving from the effort, sweat dripping down his tired face. You mewl up at him as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your spent cunt, a mixture of your slick and his cum dripping down his leg. Gentle fingers sweep the sweaty tendrils of hair stuck to your forehead back into the rest of your hair.

"Mm, let's get you cleaned up, my love. I've made a proper mess of you."

Heavy lids obscure your vision and you slump sleepily into Gale's chest, head nuzzling into his sweaty neck. Featherlight fingers trace over the small scrapes on your back and he walks you to the tub, mumbling an incantation to warm the still sudsy water. He carefully steps into the water and lowers the two of you to the bottom of the tub. You hiss at the sting of the warm water against your fresh cuts, whining into Gale's neck. Gentle hands tug you away from him, spinning you in the water, and placing you on his lap, back facing him. Water sloshes behind you as Gale reaches for a cloth, dipping it in the water, and gently running it over your sore back. You wince in pain.

"I'm sorry, Tav. I know it smarts. It'll only last a moment, I promise."

You sigh and loosen your shoulders, leaning into his touch. Gale rubs the cloth carefully over your pale skin and peppers kisses along your shoulders. Sweet, sloppy kisses. The salty taste of your skin making his head spin. You grin at the sensation and lean into him further, forcing his hands away from your back so you can rest flush against his chest.

"Gale, my love.. I'm so sleepy.."

Your lids flutter uncontrollably, the threat of sleep closer than you realize.

"Sleep. I'll see you make it to bed when I'm through cleaning you up."

You grin and press a tired kiss to his cheek, drifting off into his arms for the night.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #gale fanfic #gale x tav #fic request

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sassycheesecake · 6 months ago

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Can you do a Tendou Satori x reader? I beg you🙏🙏🙏 can it be about him discovering you play an instrument? If possible piano, if not just anything fluff so I can kick my feet and squeal

If you're busy or requests aren't open anymore and I never noticed, feel free to ignore!

Love your work ❤

Omg thank you so much for your kind words, of course I will give my best shot at writing something for you! I apologize in advance, I don’t know much about playing instruments 😂 Hope you still enjoy I chose pre-timeskip!Tendō!💕

Tendō Satori, also known as the guess monster of Shiratorizawa, has just left the meeting of the Shiratorizawa volleyball club, when his stomach started growling.

Practice has been extended due to the loss against Karasuno, so none of the players have gotten the chance to eat or drink anything yet.

Before Satori returns to his dorm room, he will make his way to the snack vending machine for a very late, but much needed skip-dinner-snack.

As he bids his teammates goodbye, he walks along the dimly-lit hallway, seeing the bright light of the vending machines from afar.

Walking down the hall, the redhead hums a happy tune, his hands resting on his neck as he bends his arms in a stretch.

Along his humming though, Satori hears the soft sound of piano keys playing.

The Middle Blocker stops his humming and is curious to find out where the beautiful music is coming from.

The melody sounds very sad and Satori can’t help but frown at the sorrowful sound.

As he walks closer towards the tune, he notices that it’s the music room, where some of the instruments lay for storage for concerts, band practice, etc.

The dark brown wooden door is slightly ajar and Satori tries to get a peek at the unknown pianist who is playing such a beautiful melody.

The music room is moderately dark, the only light source coming from the half-moon shining through the large windows high on the wall.

Yet, the young man with ruby-colored eyes sees a girl sitting with her back facing him.

She doesn’t have a music note sheet in front of her, nor a phone showing her how to play the song.

She’s playing it from memory.

Flawless, to be more precise.

The tunes keep coming softly and with expertise.

Satori finally recognizes the song.

'Behind Blue Eyes' by Limp Bizkit.

It’s like she’s trying to express her feelings and thoughts into the music she is playing.

Even if Satori can only see her backside, he is highly interested in what the mysterious girl looks like from the front.

Her beautiful hair almost glows in the moonlight, the sweatshirt of the Shiratorizawa Academy fits her figure perfectly.

Before Satori can get a better look at her, the tunes come to an end and the volleyball player tries to hide a bit better, yet he really wants to know who this girl is.

As she turns around and gets up, Satori finally sees her.

It’s you.

You sit in the back, by the windows in your shared English class.

You’re very quiet, barely talk to others.

Before tonight, the Middle Blocker never would have guessed that you play the piano. And with such skilled hands as well, like you’ve been playing it for years.

As you get up, you begin to grab your things and as quickly and quietly as he can, Satori hides behind a pillar and sees you poking your head out, looking left and right before heading out completely.

Once you close the door to the music room, you’re unaware of scarlet eyes following your steps.

Every day after volleyball practice, Satori tries to see if he can hear the melody of you playing again. But ever since that night, you stopped. You’re still at school, you attend classes but the bewitching tones at night, like a lullaby luring him into a dream that he never wants to wake up from, disappear.

To be honest, you playing that instrument has almost been like Satori’s therapy. It calms him after practice and gives him the feeling like he’s sitting next to you on the bench while you are playing.

Seeking you out on a Friday during lunch, he makes his way over to you with careful steps.

"Hey… (Y/N), right?" The red-haired Middle Blocker approaches you during your lunch break while you’re listening to your Spotify playlist.

You look up, unsure why he approached you. One of the best players of the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club. Sure, he might not be as popular as Ushijima but you have to admit, he’s got a charm of his own. He’s quirky, has an affectionate smile and a cheery personality.

You blush at his curious face, taking the headphones out of your ears to respond.

"That’s me. You’re… Tendō right? From the volleyball team?"

"Satori is just fine. So… I don’t want you to think I am crazy or anything… but about two weeks ago, on a late night after my practice was over, I heard this heavenly song of a piano playing. I was curious to see who would play this late and I saw that it was you. Oh! I didn’t tell anyone, don’t worry!" He sees that your eyes begin to widen in shock, he quickly apologizes, reassuring you that you have nothing to fear about being told on.

"Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. Playing the piano always calms me down and when I play it, it’s like the instrument has a mind on its own. Like it’s playing me instead of the other way around." You chuckle slightly and the volleyball player’s face brightens at the sound of your laugh, even if it’s quiet.

It’s like music to his ears.

"Your smile is beautiful. But your laugh makes you shine so much. You should laugh more, it suits you." Satori starts to get nervous, scratching the back of his neck.

Satori feels his knees getting wobbly, not the usual kind of wobbly after an intense practice, but rather by being in your present. You’re not weirded out by him, nor disgusted nor scared. You look… happy to be talking to him.

This is a completely new feeling for the young Middle Blocker and he never wants this feeling to go away.

"So. Is there a chance you could play again for me?" Satori sits down on the chair, leaning his head on his hands as he stares at you like you hung the stars and moons just for him.

You smile and blush in response, nodding shyly as you watch as his complete body lights up at your response, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you like the fact that famous Middle Blocker Satori Tendõ enjoys listening to you play.

It’s like music to your ears.

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whoblewboobear · 4 months ago

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In honor of iwtv!Rockstar Lestat I’m thinking about Rockstar Jace who takes a (honestly concerning) amount of interest in his new roadie/sound equipment manager Porter. After coming down from a month(s) long bender Jace is finally coherent enough to notice Porter during soundcheck. So he starts serenading him and getting super touchy feel-y. Porter kinda brushes it off, he’s toured with enough musicians to know they’re a special breed, ESPECIALLY the rockstars. But he’s a professional he would never-

That same night Jace is riding him in his dressing room and he does a bump of coke out of the dip of Porter’s clavicle and honestly? It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Jace being this fucked up also shouldn’t be this hot either and Porter is spiraling a bit but Jace is so tight and so fucking batshit the entire night and Porter really cant resist fucking him 2(-4) more times that night. Next day, Jace goes on a little mission to bug Porter before his show and Porter is just so flustered. He’s trying so hard to do his job and make sure everything goes smoothly. He’s like “Mr. Stardiamond, we’re all working very hard to make sure you have a great show tonight so if you could just FUCK OFF for a moment that’d be great~” and Jace is like huh okay, no one but my manager Zara talks to me like this.. kinda a turn on. But he does as he’s told and fucks off until it’s time for the show. But he has plans for Porter. So many that involve throwing his money and drugs around and letting Porter put him in his place whenever he likes.

Once the tour wraps, he asks if Porter would like to help out while he records his album in his home studio because his last sound equipment manager didn’t make house calls (for reasons Jace doesn’t want to discuss. Maybe he’s done this before, no one needs to know he’s a walking HR nightmare, he’s a rockstar he can do what he wants.) Porter agrees because the pay is incredible and traveling is fun but it takes a lot out of him and honestly, the perks of him and a few of his industry friends helping Jace make another hit album seems like a fun gig. And maybe fucking Jace on every surface in his mansion is a very appealing idea. He can handle Stardiamond. He’s just like every other fucked up musician. But uh oh.. the more time he spends with Jace the more he realizes that he isn’t that bad. A fucking whirlwind, sure, but in the quiet moments when he’s writing songs at his piano or having a quiet smoke on the balcony or meticulously arranging audio and re-recording harmonies, Porter is so endeared with him. He didn’t start doing his job for nothing, he wanted to make music himself but never quite broke through. Jace is a wonder to him, he wanted to resent him for pissing away an opportunity.

But Jace cares about the music, he does. The drugs and the flashy clothes and the money are fun. Very fun, until they aren’t. When he’s not trying to numb himself to the fucking shithole the music industry is, he still has music to comfort him. He’s so meticulous and careful about what he puts out. Which his manager loves. She loves a lot about him but even Zara would admit there are days that she sees him and her heart just hurts because he’s so far from the Jace she grew up with and talked about their dreams with. All those late nights in college where they painstakingly put together his first ep going off nothing but Red Bull and sleep deprivation. She remembers the night they finally heard back from the label and she negotiated a contract that was less shitty and intrusive than what Jace would’ve signed had she not been there. She misses him and she does like how good of an influence Porter can be on him. She’s glad there’s someone else there that doesn’t enable him- not all the time anyway.

Porter’s glad Zara’s around when she can be because everyone else buzzing around Jace is a kiss up or an enabler, but not her. On the bad days, she’s the first one to show up for Jace when everyone else makes themselves scarce. Jace tries not to notice the minute people scatter when he’s not offering party favors or lavish nights out. When the dust settles it’s Zara and.. Porter. Much to his surprise. And he feels a little bad for how over the top he was with him. One night, Porter comes over when he’s putting the finishing touches on the melody of a song, really into it and lost in the way every key sounds together. When he finishes, Porter is clapping and maybe that’s the only applause he really cares about.

#Starbreaker #rockstar!Jace au #jace stardiamond #porter cliffbreaker #Blewbs fic ramblings #Blewb rambles

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ghostofthejungle · 10 months ago

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I wish I could physically see and meet the braincell who told me it was okay to draw a whole ass PIANO

In my defense, I kept thinking about Sokka somewhen learning how to play; maybe, shortly after the end of the war, during a trip to the Fire Nation, he finds a broken piano in an abandoned room of the palace and manages to repair it (servants and guards decide not to question the din coming from said room day and night).

To everyone’s and mostly Sokka’s surprise, he is a natural: his fingers dance on the piano keys like they have no other purpose in the world and he is able to replicate tons of melodies by ear. Slowly, but inevitably, the notes generated by those black and white blocks become a great comfort for Sokka; his unspoken sorrows, fears and regrets turn into a melodic balm for his soul, the piano his trustworthy companion when he can’t sleep during the hot, endless summer nights.

He likes playing for an audience, but in certain cases the only thing he wants by his side is quiet, warm breeze accompanying the sound, while the moon´s cold rays gently wrap the dusty room.

It’s during one of these nights that a sleepless Zuko can’t help but follow a long-forgotten home call, Sokka’s notes materializing in front of him and guiding him towards something he didn’t even know he needed. He moves slowly, hypnotized, almost dreamwalking; the melancholic notes give voice to the cold air, embracing him like a soft blanket, soothing his spirit like a soft voice coming from afar, wandering through the Reigns just to find him and whisper in his ear everything he’s always needed to hear.

With this sensation strongly engulfed in every fiber of his being, Zuko stood in front of the door, meeting the pianist’s back in religious silence. He didn’t want to scare Sokka or interrupt the music + in that specific moment Zuko wouldn’t have been able to produce any sound whatsoever, even if he was asked to scream for his life: everything he ever wanted to express, and never dared to say, was wrapped around those tapered fingers, gently pressing the piano keys, tenderly stroking the most sensitive strings of Zuko’s soul, smoothly caressing his hair just the right way, just like his mother used to.

And when the song’s over a dense silence wraps the room, briefly interrupted by a dull tear falling on a gloomy D#, the same key Sokka touched last.

The candle on the piano suddenly lights up, allowing the tear to evaporate. A moonbeam escapes his trajectory and lands on Sokka’s widened eyes before a sincere, embarrassed smile warms his tired face. Sokka doesn’t turn towards the door, Zuko doesn’t walk towards him and neither of them will ever mention that night.

From that moment, anyway, Zuko rarely missed Sokka’s daily exercises, and Sokka didn’t mind at all; when he was there, for some reason, Sokka made some more mistakes, but he didn’t care. For once, he knew he didn’t need to be his usual perfectionist self to be understood, to give emotions, or to be useful, even.

Yes, Sokka could finally allow himself that self-indulgence with Zuko.

And there was no better feeling in the world.

Will I ever be able to capture all of this in a fanfiction or a fanart? Absolutely not. So, having said that, make do with this sketch and take care of it before I colour and definitely ruin it for good and for evil 🍵

#headcanon #first Zukka headcanon of 2024 yasss #zukka #zukka fanart #zukka fanfic #atla zukka #sokka x zuko #zuko x sokka #Sokka #Zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 2 years ago

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Otona Blue

Yandere Kang Yeosang x fem reader

a/n: this is by far the longest and most thought out fic i've ever written and i'm so proud of it <3 i put so much care and effort into it, so i hope you enjoy!

tags: @seojonneh & @thatswhywerefever

You've got your eyes on the new senior in your music class, and the feeling is unfortunately mutual.

✫彡wordcount: 8k

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ (ಡ‸ಡ)genre:

yandere, college au, angst

ಠ_ಠwarnings/contents:

long read, takes place over a few months, semi-slow burn, yandere behavior, age gap (19-23/college freshman-college senior), bullying, violence(not described towards reader), cursing, nicknames, threats of death(again, not towards reader), online stalking(kinda?), kissing, one(1) horn-ee line that implies they did the deed, emotional vulnerability, yandere&dark themes really shine towards the end, probably part one because i have so many ideas for these two

ヾ(´〇`)ﾉ♪♪♪ song recs:

OTONABLUE by ATARASHII GAKKO!! "i want you to connect to my heart"

Can We Lie Here? by Holy Fawn "the field grows taller and it will never let you go"

First Love/ Late Spring by Mitski "please don't say you love me"

Ptolemaea by Ethel Cain "i am the face of loves rage."

Darkness, I'll Always Be Your Girl by R. Missing "i'm always going to be your girl"

MATURE UNDER THE CUT MDNI

The fourth period of the day is always your favorite. The teacher is kind and helpful. You get to express yourself through music. No one in the class seems to bother you- in fact (even in a class full of seniors) you seemed to make a few friends. The teacher even let you hide out the first few weeks of school during your free period to avoid the chaos that seemed to follow you.

All in all, the music room is your safe place. A smile graces your lips as you round into the large room, greeting a classmate who's by the door gathering his book from the tall closet cabinet.

"Hey, (Y/n)." He welcomes you, turning into the storage and grabbing the book with your name on its spine.

"Thanks, Soobin." You take it with a small bow to your senior and turn to walk with him to your seats. "Oh," you sigh. Someone is in your chair, their face hidden by the musical sheet stand in front of it. You look to Soobin for help, and he simply shrugs before taking your hand and leading you to the back of the room, to your occupied seat.

"Excuse me," he speaks to the man. His head pokes up from behind the stand and he stares at the two of you with an unreadable expression. "Oh, uhm," Soobin stumbles over his words, gesturing to you.

"This is actually where I usually sit," you stammer, avoiding his cold eyes. When he says nothing, and makes no effort to move, just looking at you - Soobin kicks his shoulder with yours, making you stumble. "Well, the intructor likes us in specific places, so that the music is... y'know? Did he sit you here?" You ask slowly, looking at anything but him.

"Ah," he sighs, looking to the unoccupied seat behind him. "He must of pointed to that seat. Sorry." He speaks shortly, slowly setting his violin in the open case at his feet and sliding it back to his seat.

"Thanks..."

Soobin mumbles an apology to the quiet man as he nearly bumps into him on the way to the seat beside yours. You nod shortly at him and take his place, setting your violin in his' place. You fold your book open to the page scribbled on the blackboard behind the teachers piano.

As you set it down on the music stand, you see a book already in its rightful place. You roll your eyes, meeting eyes with Soobin, who has a teasing smile on his face. He knows you well enough to know that you already want to be done with the music room intruder.

You fold the book closed and come face to face with a name newly printed on the front cover with Sharpie.

강여상

"Uhm," you twirl around in the plastic chair, "Sunbae?" You know he's a senior. Everyone beside you and one other student is.

He looks up from the string he's fixing on his violin and his eyes go to his book in your hands. "Sorry," he chimes, slotting his instrument between his knees and taking the book with both hands. Your hands stay frozen in place as you finally take a moment to look at him. And, God, is he gorgeous. He has a birthmark under one of his eyes, that you can't seem to get over. It makes him look somewhat ethereal.

"Yeosang?" You ask, and he nods, eyes flicking away before coming back to yours. "Resonated sound," you offer a smile, and he's a bit taken a-back.

Your friend next to you is even more so. You're willingly conversing with someone other than him? Since when? Where is his (Y/n) and what did you do with her?

"It makes sense that you're a violin player! It resonates the most, I think."

"Oh, really? I didn't ever think of that," he laughs a little bit- and you swear it's the cutest thing ever. You go to speak again, when the instructor beats you to it by telling the class to turn to the song you'll be working on. You turn back around and offer Yeosang a final, small smile, and get your violin situated.

Thursday morning, the class is in a slight chaos as you turn the corner and enter. You, too, are buzzing with anxiety and anticipation. Yesterday, just before the bell, your teacher said that he would be asking a few individuals to try out for a special part in the song for your upcoming performance.

Soobin is already in his seat, bouncing his leg as he reads and re-reads the notes: trying to memorize them. The pretty new guy is one of the only calm ones in the entire room, gently working on one of the parts that he seems to have trouble with.

You take your seat wordlessly and immediately get to work, working the bow over the strings effortlessly. You block out all the other instruments and conversations, letting the music take over your mind. You had spent the better half of last night memorizing the notes and the timing, and the song already comes like a second mature. Music has always been your escape- your friend. You swing the bow away in the final note and let the sound resonate in your ears over the noise around you.

You smile, content with your own performance.

The hair on your arms stands up as an uneasy feeling washes over you. You glance around the room to find the source, and you don't find anything. "Hubae." The voice comes from behind you.

It's Yeosang, with his eyebrows creased in concentration as he looks down at the violin in his lap. You turn half way in your seat, humming in response. "Could you," he hesitates, "could you help me?" It seems like he's a bit ashamed to be asking, avoiding your eyes and mindless fingering out the cords.

"Sure, what do you need help with?" He turns the knob on the back of the stand loose and swivels it around to face you. He has his book marked up with circles and underlines and small singular-worded notes. One part, the one he's been practicing and messing up repeatedly is marked up the most. He points to it.

You slowly sit down your violin in its case and slide your seat beside his, taking up the empty space behind Soobin. "Ah, I had trouble with that too! You aren't the only one," you profess, smiling at him when his eyes flicker toward you for a moment. His face flushes quickly, and you pretend not to notice as you fix the stand to face you.

"So, it's the part where you go from G to A, right?" Yeosang nods, going from cord to cord slowly. "It's cause your fingers aren't warmed up enough." You take his violin gently and hold is loosely by its neck, holding out your other hand. You tap each of your fingers to your thumb quickly, going from your index to your pinky and then back. "Try." He does so, struggling slightly- but slowly getting up to speed with you. He continues the exercise as you sit his instrument in your lap, holding out your cupped hands. His movements halt, and he looks at your opened hands and his beloved instrument placed gently on top of your skirt.

"C'mere." Your reach out your hands and pick his up, slowly rubbing the lowest knuckles, "it's the ones that holds you back the most," you state matter-of-factly. You slowly work his hand for a few moments, before dropping it and handing him his violin. It takes him a few moments to recoup, and he shakes the thoughts from his head as he grabs it.

He places it under his chin and gives a final glance your way before he begins playing. When he reaches the line from hell, he passes by without any trouble, his limber fingers sliding into place fluidly, pressing down the right strings in the right place like he's done it a million times before.

"Beautiful!" He smiles at the compliment, lowering the violin to thank you before the teacher so rudely interrupts you again.

"Who's first?" He asks the class excitedly, locking the portable pianos wheels before leaning back on it. Everyone is silent, and you try to slowly maneuver your way back into your place. "Miss (Y/n)!" He points at your crouched figure, and you pop up from behind Soobins back with tight lips.

"No, thank you, Mr-"

"Come on down!"

You take a deep breath, gathering up your bow and violin and holding back a frown as you sit behind the piano with him. "Ready when you are." The rest of the class resumes their own practicing- save for Yeosang and Soobin: who watch you.

You lift your bow in time with him as he presses down the accompanying keys. You go through the entire verse, not missing a beat or a cord as you play your part. The ending note echoes out in unison with the piano, and you smile at the teacher as he takes down some notes before dismissing you to practice the next verse.

You walk toward Soobin with a new found confidence in life, pumping your fist and whisper-yelling about how you nailed it.

If only you looked back, you would see Yeosang looking at you with something dark swirling in his wide eyes.

Opposite to music and musical theory, lunch was the most dreaded part of your day. Soobin had his at a different time, and your friend Hiyyih was always late on Friday's because of her debate club.

You were left alone for the first 20 minutes of the hour long period, and it was the worst part of every Friday since the school year began.

How or why you grabbed the attention of such a foul senior was beyond you. But it seems like Un Ji has a personal vendetta against you- despite the fact that you had never even looked in her direction until she decided to trip you over during volleyball(why did she even do that? You were on the same team!). Perhaps she had some home problems, or had unpacked trauma, or was simply just that mean. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that she just can't seem to get enough of teasing you.

"There she is!" Her sing-song tone makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You're always in the same seat waiting for Hiyyih, so why does she bother acting surprised? "God, look at her. All lonely!" The condescending way she laughs alone is enough to make you want to curl up on yourself.

"Mind if we sit?" She and her goonies don't wait for you to respond, and you don't bother to anyhow. You just look down at your lunch with a forming frown. "Ah, don't frown! You'll get ugly..." You look up with your brows furrowed in confusion, and she has a serious expression on her face. A smirk slowly forms as she scans your face. "Oh," she draws out, "too late."

Some of the girls she's with begin laughing, and their giggles echo around your hot ears.

"Hey," Yeosang sits next to you with a smile directed towards you, completely ignoring the existence of Ji.

Your eyes flash to her, and back to him, and back down at your sandwich before you mutter out a hello. "Who's your friend?" She asks you, leaning her elbow on the table and holding her head as she gives him dreamy eyes.

"Oh," he dramatizes, hand to his heart. "I'm Yeosang." He says to her shortly, before turning back to you, "why aren't you eating?" The past two weeks, you and Yeosang have been slowly growing closer. Maybe he's decided it's finally time to join you outside of class.

"Psh, she doesn't need to. Look at her." Ji's desire to woo him is overwhelmed by her desire to tear you down. "So chubby, (Y/n), do you want to work with us during gym?"

Yeosang doesn't let the way your eyes widen with fear slide. His top lip rises as he looks at her in disgust. She seems like she's been knocked over with a feather, staring back at him as her face heats up. "What? I'm only looking out for my friend!" She swipes her hair over her shoulder and moves on from her brief moment of feeling scandalized. "Right?" She looks to her friend, who says something that doesn't quite reach either of you.

He's keeping his eyes on you again, watching as wetness builds up in your eyes. At the grating sound of her voice, he comes up with an idea. He sighs and stands up, "seems I've lost my appetite." You look up from beneath your eyelashes and watch as he takes the long way to a bin, passing behind Ji.

As he does, he makes an effort to cross his foot in front of the other, making himself stumble. "Oh my goodness!" He yells as she screams, the glass of water he had on his tray soaking into her back, loose pieces of food getting stuck in her hair. "Oh, I'm so clumsy." He deadpans as she stands to face him. "My bad." He looks over her shoulder to see you, quickly covering you smile with a hand over your mouth.

"You are so dead!" He slides away from her grasp and back around the table, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along- giving you just enough time to grab your bag before you escape the cafeteria: leaving a screaming Ji in your wake.

"Oh my god, Yeosang!" You begin to laugh as you run. His grip on you wrist slips down to your hand, and you don't protest as he holds it tightly, looking back as he continues to lead you away. His own laughter starts to sound out, dying down soon as you both slow.

He lays down on a cement bench, and you take a seat at the very end of it by his feet. Both of you breath heavily between broken chuckles. He props his head up on his hand and looks down at you.

"She had that coming, huh?"

"Oh, yeah!"

He leans back and gazes up at the clear sky, squinting at the brightness before he fully closes his eyes. "Hate people like that."

A silence envelopes the both of you, save for the blowing wind that cools down your flush face. He listens to your breaths, matching his own to them.

"Thank you, Sunbaemin...I could have handled it, you know, on my own- but I really appreciate it." You rant quickly, placing your hand on his lower leg in a show of gratitude.

He nearly twitches away at the feeling, eyes opening and finding you once again. "No problem." He sits up, "I have to admit... I've seen her bothering you before. I saw what she did to your book last week."

"Oh... yeah. That was one of my favorites."

I know. "I'm sorry I didn't step in earlier."

"It's okay, really. You don't have to stand up for someone you barely know." You offer him a sad smile, and he returns it with a wide one.

"I'll stand up for you." He says. He promises. "I'll protect you from her from now on."

"Really?" You ask abashedly, quickly correcting yourself to, "I mean- I'd really appreciate it, but, you know you don't have to do that for me!"

He tilts his head, seeming as if he's searching your mind. "Of course I do. You deserve better than to be treated like that."

Tears are building up in your eyes, and he quickly adjusts himself to sit with a leg on either side of the bench, scooting closer to you. "(Y/n)..." He draws out. "Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? Why are you sorry, it's okay, ba-It's okay. Come here," he wraps his arms around your shoulders, bringing you closer as you begin to cry silently. "It's okay," he hushes you, sending a death glare in the direction of a student who's giving you both a strange look.

"I'm sorry, Yeosang." Over your own ragged breathing, you don't hear his breath catch in his throat. He tightens his grip on you and rubs his hands up and down your arm comfortingly.

"Don't be sorry. Shh, I'm here now, don't worry, okay?"

His skin is lit ablaze when you wrap your hand around his wrist in search of comfort. "Thank you," you whisper, "no one stands up for me."

"I will."

"And then?!" Hiyyih urges you to continue, hugging her big rabbit plushie tightly as you tell the story of what happened with Yeosang earlier that day. You lean your head over the edge of the bed from your seat on the floor and smile.

"He just kinda... held me? It was really nice, actually. I mean- at first it was a little weird cause, like, obviously: but it was nice!"

"Oh my God," your best friend exclaims, flattening herself on the bed to be closer to your face. "That's so sweet of him! I need to meet this guy and give him the stamp of Hiyyih approval."

"Oh, it's not like that... He's just my senior, seniors take care of juniors they like right? He's just friendly." You back away in confusion when she places the back of her hand on your cheek.

"You're blushing!" She yells, flopping off the bed to join you on the floor as you begin screaming that it's just warm in her room, and she's screaming right back that you have a crush.

"Bahiyyih!" Her brothers voice rings out, making you both stop, making an 'oh shit' face as you hear his heavy footsteps come down the hall. The door opens to reveal her big brother, Kai, with his hand perched on his hip. You feel like he might scold you for being so loud, but he scrambles into the room and shuts the door behind him. He plops down opposite of the both of you and leans forward, "spill."

"It's nothing! He's just a nice guy from my music class." "She's totally whipped for this dude!" You and Hiyyih speak over one another, slapping each others hands down as you both try to emphasize your own point. "Good lord," Kai mumbles, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Start from the beginning."

You and Hiyyih continue interrupting each other every so often as you explain about Yeosang. And when she cuts you off for the third time, Kai reaches over and smacks her upside the head- causing a yelling match between the siblings.

You look down at your hands, thinking back to the way his skin felt under your finger tips. You don't even notice when the Huenings have stopped, now both looking at you. "Ooo, she's doing that thing again," she whisper yells, slapping his arm, "do you think she's thinking about him?"

"I can hear you, dickhead."

"My bad."

A round a laughs goes around, and she leans into your lap, looking up at you. "What were you thinking about, really? Him, right?" You nod a little bit, looking over to her vanity with an idea brewing in your head.

"You really think he likes me? I mean-"

"Of course!" "I think so, yeah."

"Hey, Hiyyih," you break the moment of silence. "Remember when we were in middle school and I had a crush on that one boy?" She looks up, searching her memory before she giggles a bit.

"You trying to say you want another makeover?" You nod with a smile, looking over to the mirror again.

"We're older now! I've been wearing the same lipstick since junior year of high school, I think I should upgrade, right?"

"Totally not to impress Yeosang, right?" Kai smirks, already scooting towards the makeup boxes Hiyyih keeps under her bed. "I can teach you how to do eyeliner, I'm better at it!"

"Hey!" She yells, offended he would make fun of her skills. He only sticks out his tongue and goes back to searching the shoe box full of eye and lip liners.

"You know you don't have to do this to impress him, right? He already likes you. I mean- it's totally obvious. And you're so nice, how can he not?"

"I know," you drag on, "but maybe if I looked a little nicer I would have more confidence? I don't know..."

"Whatever you want, chick," she sits up on her knees and gives you and aggressive forehead kiss before falling back and yanking the box away from her brother. "Give me this," she takes the liner from him, "this isn't her color at all, you crazy?"

"Hi," you slide into the seat across from him and whisper quietly.

Yeosang already has his nose in a notebook book, and he puts it down to smile warmly at you. It's Friday, three weeks have passed since he promised to protect you- and he did just that. He found every reason possible to be near, and his presence was welcomed. At this point, you would even consider him 'friend'. You were hanging out after school.

Your crush on him hasn't died down. Not in the slightest. The more time you spend with him, the more you found yourself drawn into him. He liked similar things and was a beautiful violinist and had a certain aura around him.

He could say the same things about you. The closer he got, the more sucked in he was.

"Hey, Petal."

"How's your day been, Yeo?"

He smiles at the nickname, that same glaze washes over his eyes- the one you catch every so often but you're never quite able to place before he blinks it away. He told you weeks ago you don't have to call him by any honorifics. At first you were hesitant, but soon enough you were Yeo and Petal (which he affectionately nicknamed you after he cought you playing the 'he loves me, he loves me not' game).

"Good, and yours?"

"Good!" You drop the whisper. No one is ever in the large library. Not even the librarian. Just you, Yeosang, and some girl named Lucy who reads on the other side of the room.

"Did Lucas bother you today?"

You roll your eyes. Lucas, also a freshman, has been harassing you to go out with him and won't seem to take no for an answer. "No, thank god. He wasn't there today. So... What are you working on?"

He sits and explains his project, then you explain yours. This is how it is on Fridays and Wednesdays. You sit in each others company and do all of your work, reaching out for help when you get stumped.

It's all easy today, so easy in fact: you fall asleep after you've finished your own work. It takes Yeosang no time at all to notice.

He sits up a bit and looks around. Then he stands up. He takes the seat next to you, slowly lowering his head to rest parallel to yours.

A piece of hair has fallen loosely over your face, swaying with each breath you take. Surely... you won't mind if he fixes it, right?

He moves at a turtles pace until he reaches your face and sweeps back the hair with his fingertips grazing your cheek.

As he studies you, he finally gets a chance to see the new makeup style you've been wearing as of late. It makes you look more mature, more confident. He can't tell if likes it quite yet. But, to be honest, he like's everything you do. Maybe he has a preference, but he can't tell. Because,

"always so pretty."

You stir a bit at his deep whisper, subconsciously leaning toward the warmth of his hand. He flattens his fingers and rests his palm against you. His heart seems to beat out loud: he's shocked it hasn't woken you. When you mumble something, he scoots his face a smidge closer. It sounds like nonsense, but your voice still soothes something that runs wild inside him.

His hand wanders down to the ends of your hair and he twirls his finger around them, letting go gently.

He himself nearly falls asleep, a peace he's never known washing over him with your shallow breaths in his ear.

He's teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when a loud noise disrupts the peace you've created for him. He places his hand on your shoulder, ready to wake you up at a moments notice as he looks around. As the panic settles, and his heartbeat dies back down, he registers that it was just a door.

"Hey," he lightly shakes your shoulder, "wake up." Your eyes flutter open and blink up at him as he cups your face in his hand. "Have a good nap?" He teasingly asks, stroking you cheekbone with his thumb. You groan in response, and tug your arm up. When you place your hand over his and hold it closer to your face, he almost moans at the feeling.

"Should have brought a jacket," you mumble sleepily. "So cold. Your so warm, Yeo." He looks over to his seat, where his large hoodie is draped over the back.

"Do you," he stutters, "do you want my hoodie?" You peek open one of your eyes and glare at him.

"Don't even play with me, really?" You sit up, and his hand falls back to his side. "It's not too much to ask, is it? What if- what if you get cold?" He reaches over the table top and grabs the fabric, handing it over with a promise that he'll be okay without it.

The warmth envelops you, and you sigh contentedly, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Thank you."

His heart flutters as he takes in the sight of you in his clothes and makes a mental note to make sure to turn the thermostat up even in the colder weather so he can hand over more. "Looks good on you." He tries to be nonchalant, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away rather fast. "Blues your color."

"You think?" You lift up the hood and pull the strings just enough to cover your ears before you tie it in a bow. He says nothing, just smiles fondly as you take up your phone. "Oh, I didn't sleep too long! Did you finish your work?"

He shakes his head, "I have some maths left. I just took a break before i torture myself with it."

"I can do maths!" You stand up and run to the other side, searching through his organized papers until you find the math. "Least I can do for you." He watches as you work diligently, the pencil scratching against the paper fills the comfortable silence. Only a few minutes pass until you slam the pencil down dramatically. "Boom, bam!"

He takes the paper and scans it over as he mumbles a thank you. You return to your seat next to him and begin gathering your materials. "Hey, (Y/n)..."

"Yup!" You face him, smile faltering as you see his solemn expression. "What, what's wrong? Did I mess up the work?"

"I really like spending time with you."

You're left with your jaw dropped for a moment, before you gather the courage to speak. "I...I like spending time with you too. It's easy, with you. Y'know? Just feels right! I'm actually... well, I'm really glad you transferred to Mr. Canessa class." You ramble on, speaking with you hands and not noticing that he's tearing up until one of his tears hit the table. "Oh, Yeosang! I'm sorry!" You scoot your chair closer and wrap your arms around his shoulders, cradling his head.

He sniffles quietly and simply lets you hold him, hushing him and sniffling along with him. "Why are you crying?" He asks through his sobs. "Why are you?" You ask right back.

"Because I want to kiss you so badly."

You pull away slowly and look at his teary eyes through your own. "I want to protect you from Ji, and from everyone. And I want- I want you to warm up my hands before I play. I don't ever want you to call me Sunbaenim again because I wish you saw yourself as my equal because that's what y-" You shut him up by rewrapping your arms around him, crying harder into his shoulder. The sound of your cries triggers his own, and he latches onto you like a kola, bringing you into his lap. "I'm so sorry, (Y/n), I think I'm falling in love with you."

There's a beat of quiet until you speak, "what if I'm falling in love with you, too?"

He cries into your shoulder, grip tightening around your waist. "Please, don't say things like that." He feels you tug at his hair gently and leans his head back to look up at you.

"Not even if I mean it?"

"Do you? Mean it?"

"Yes."

He grins weakly as you begin to wipe up his tears with the paw of the hoodie. "Petal?" He blinks anxiously as you hum in response. "Can I kiss you?"

You answer him with your lips on his, and it takes him a good moment to catch up. He closes his eyes and lets himself melt into you.

He falls into his back, a deep sigh passing his lips. He looks up at the ceiling and just thinks.

Your third date together had just ended: successfully in his opinion. It was barely different from the time you two had spent together before the library, but at the same time it felt all new. With your feelings out in the open you no longer had to hold back. He openly admired you, not bothering to hide his flushed face when you complemented him or avoided eye contact as his eyes shined with that unplaceable glaze.

He doesn't know why... he can't understand. How do you have him wrapped around your little finger so tightly in such a short time?

Is it the way your touch always leaves goosebumps in your wake? The way your hands work so diligently to make awe-inspiring music? Maybe, it's the way you smile when you see him. The smile that's reserved just for him? That could be it...

His phone buzzes with a small ding on his stomach. The ring tone he assigned just to you, a small bird song.

He opens the message in the next second, smiling like an idiot at the words you've typed out.

i had lots of fun ! i'm still laughing at your jokes haha

...

The phone vibrates in his hands.

where should we go next time ?

His thumbs work quickly to respond, going back and forth as he tries to come up with a good response.

You choose next time :) Show me someplace nice, Petal

He closes out the app and opens Instagram, hovering over the search bar for a moment before he finally typed in your user. He moves fluidly to it, having done this a million times before. You haven't posted in a while, but you have a new story. He clicks on your icon- a phone of you and your best friend (Bahiyyih, was it? He'll have to look into her.) making kissy faces.

The photo you've put on your story is on you took while with him. When a small lizard jumped on your table and tried to steal one of his french fries. You snapped a picture of him with his hand over his mouth in shock, staring at the lizard as it tries to drag a french fire that's bigger than it is.

He smiles fondly, snapping a screen shot of the memory. When the page refreshes, he sees that you have a new 'saved story' category. It's named "Yeo★".

The only other one on your page is called "Huening hoes". He's seen all of them a million times, but he still takes his time to click through it. It's pictures of you and Bahiyyih, of just her, and occasionally her brother. They, along with Choi Soobin, seemed to be your closest (if not only) friends.

At first, he was suspicious of the older Huening- but his nerves calmed down when he noticed the difference in your comments to them. On Yeosangs post of him playing the violin, he got a heart emoji. On kai.ning 's post of him and his track team: 'only went to see you fall... disappointed' followed by a sad face and a begging emoji.

His favorite by far was posted the day he stepped up to Ji. You are sitting in between Kai's legs as he does your hair, a bottle of nail polish in one hand and the brush in the other, a big grin on your face as your head is leaned back in laughter.

More often than not, he finds himself thinking what it would be like to have been there. To hear your laughter, to be the cause of it. He loves that laugh. He loves it so much. He'd give anything to have it all to himself. To have you all to himself.

He groans, locking his phone and rolling over with a frown.

He doesn't know why or how you have his heart on a string. You have him bewitched. How? Is it your eyes? Which look at him like he's a most valuable piece of art? Is it your lips? So soft and open for his taking? Maybe, your hands? Such a delicate embrace that leaves him begging for more?

God... he wonders what it would be like to fall asleep in your safe embrace.

He's fully fallen for you, and he's fallen hard. Why? Was it your kind nature? The way you didn't hesitate to help him when he acted like he didn't know how to play that verse? Was it the way you hung onto him when Ji passed by, silently begging him to protect you? Maybe- maybe the way that you held onto his shoulders as you moaned, so tightly that your nails left indentations for two whole days? It had to have been the way you rested your forehead against his with your eyes closed blissfully after your first kiss. The excited look in your eyes as you rambled about your interests?

He loved it all. He wanted it all. And he'd do anything to keep it. To keep you.

Kang Yeosang never knew fear until the day he answered the phone to your broken sobs at exactly 12:47 AM. You cried and cried for him, begging for him to help you. And he did. He took his keys and followed your shared location to the school. He ran all the way to where he knew he would find you.

He slams the double doors to the music room open and pauses for a moment until he sees your cowered figure by the rack of guitars, leaning on the wall with your head in your hands.

He yells out to you, sliding to his knees in-front of you. "Oh, precious thing," he pushes your hands down and takes your face in his own, "what happened to you?" His heart stops beating in his chest.

Your eyes are puffy and red. But that's the least of his concerns. You have dried blood that's dripped down your nostril. A forming bruise on the side of your face.

"Who did this to you?"

The second you explain what happened, he's back on his feet, ready to hunt down that bitch Un Ji.

"Yeo, please!" You hold onto the back of his calve, sticking him in place. "Don't," you plead, "please, don't go." He sits back down on the tile floor with you.

"My Petal," he begins to tear up, "they've crushed you." You can't say anything more, simply crying as you hold his hands tightly, attempting to stop the way your whole body trembles. "She put her fucking hands on you, (Y/n). She bruised you, she made you cry, look at what she did to your violin! She needs to learn her god damn lesson. She isn't better than anyone, and she certainly isn't better than you."

Your blurry vision turns to your prized instrument, now just a mess of broken wood and snapped strings. And the sight only makes you cry more. "Don't worry," he pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. "I'll fix it... I'll fix it all." You hang onto him for dear life, sobbing into him.

"Baby," he hums, swiping away your tears the second you lean away. "I hate to see you cry like this," he holds you gently as he leans his head on yours to imitate what has become a habit of yours. "Breath with me, c'mon. You're okay now." You bite your lip to hold back your cries, eventually evening out your breathing to match his.

"You'll be okay?" He goes to stand again, and is once again stopped when you keep your grip on his hand.

"What will you do?"

"I'll just scare her. Show her to stay away."

And he plans on keeping his word to you, he truly does, but when he sees Ji all alone on the top of the stairs, all his mind can think is how 'this fucking bitch deserves to die for putting her hand on you'.

"Un Ji!"

She stands up and looks down at him with an expression of coldness, mirroring the same one he has. Only, with less rage. "I'll fucking kill you," he grabs her by her neck and pushes her to the cold ground, following her as she tries to back away. "What the fuck, dude?!"

She grabs his wrist and tries to pry it away, but he won't let up: clouded by his anger. "You are such a stuck up little bitch! You think you get to walk all over her? You think you get to touch her and get away with it? Huh? Answer me, cunt!"

"You fucking psycho, get away from me!" She struggles. He throws her down by the grip he has on her neck and lets her head slam onto the hard floor.

She's still dazed, her vision blurry from the bang to her head, when he crouches down to her level. "I should kill you." He smirks as she uncoordinatedly tries to scramble away. "I really should, but... I don't think (Y/n) would come around to that. She will come around to this though."

"Wha-" her question is cut off when he stands quickly and stomps on her hand. "Fuck, what the fuck," she screeches, trying to pull her hand back when he steps down harder and a crunch rings out. She lets her head fall to the ground, soaking it with her tears.

"Was it this hand you struck her with?" He moves to kick the other one out from under her, and steps down lightly. "Or this one?" When she doesn't answer, he crushes her hand anyway. "Best be safe." She yells and yells, but the only other person in the building this late is you; and your too occupied with the remnants of your instrument to hear her.

"Please, stop!" He lifts his foot, and for a moment she things she's got through to him. Then he swings his leg back and brings it forward to her gut with force. She attempts to roll over, but finds no splice as he just kicks her back instead. "Low life," he groans, "fucking piece of trash."

He forces her to lay down on her back with a sneaker placed to her shoulder. "Are you crying?" He coos mockingly, "awww." He bends down, pinching her cheek harshly. "Should have fucking thought about the consequences."

He replaces his foot with his knee, putting all of his weight down on her shoulder until she's slapping his leg, begging him to stop as he crushes it. "When someone asks you what happened, you say Lucas Montgomery did it, got that?"

He plans on taking down two birds with one stone, knowing that the socially inept Lucas wouldn't have anyone to use as an alibi.

"Ye-yeah."

"Hey, Un Ji... who did this to you?"

"Lucas." She coughs. Blood dribbles down her chin.

"Un Ji-ah," he yells into her face, "who did this to you."

"Lucas did! Lucas Montgomery!"

"Good. Make it believable, too." He kicks her down and gives her one last glance full of hatred with a threat, "cause next time, I won't stop until I can hand her your head on a stick."

He leaves her crying on the upstairs floor as he returns to you. He finds you, nearly unmoved from where he left you. Gathering up the broken pieces of your violin and attempting to do the same to your heart.

"Yeo?" You stand up and embrace him the second he crosses into the room, wrapping your arms around his waist and listening to his heavy breathing.

When you back up, you see a splatter of red on the tip of his sneakers. "Are you okay? Is that blood?" He cups your face in his hand and caresses his thumb over the bruise. "Yeosang!" He blinks back into reality. "Is that blood?"

You reach for the closed door behind him, when he grabs your wrist and pushes it back to your side. "You don't need to see that."

"Don't nee- what did you do?" He pushes you further into the room by your shoulder softly. "Yeosang, what did you do to her? You said you were just going to scare her!"

"She's scared," he says nonchalantly. "She won't bother you again." When you ask if he hit her, he almost scoffs a laugh. "I crushed her... I crushed her just like she did to you."

You don't know what's come over him, but you don't like it. This isn't the Yeosang you've been falling in love with. This Yeosang is scaring you.

"I want to go home, now."

He nods, "I'll take you."

"No." You speak all too quickly for his liking. "I don't want... I don't want to be near you right now. How can you... you did exactly what she did to me."

He grabs onto your forearm tightly, pulling you back as you try to leave and pushing you onto the wall next to the whiteboard.

"My beautiful flower," he hums, cool knuckle sliding down your cheek and across your jaw.

"Yeosang." His name is whispered like that of a devil, so quiet that he can barely pick up on the emotions lacing your voice. "We shouldn't... we should stop before we get more involved. I'm- I don't think-"

"No," he grumbles, pushing off the wall and going to pace around the music room. "You don't get it," he yells, kicking one of the sheet stands. You yelp involuntarily, backing into the chalkboard as his cold gaze finds you. "You don't get it," he begins to laugh, raking a hand through his hair.

"Sunbae-"

"Don't fucking call me that!" His conscience is filled with guilt as he hears the word, but it's quickly overwhelmed by the butterflies that fill his gut as he sees you cowering against the wall. "Don't call me that," he repeats in a soft, whining voice. As he approaches, you scoot behind the teachers piano, using it as a barrier between the both of you.

"Why are you scared," he asks. Wether it's genuine or teasing, you can't seem to tell.

"Please, stop. Lets just go our separate ways."

He places his hands on the top of the wooden piano, smirking as he unlocks the wheels with the tip of his sneakers. He pushes it to the side harshly, making the keys clang and echo around the room as it collides with the double doors. "Yeosang, please! You're scaring me!"

"Don't worry," he purrs as he crowds you, taking your hands in his and holding them between you: pressing his body against yours and effectively trapping you.

"Oh, Petal," his voice is truly mocking now, but it goes away as quickly as it came. "We are already involved. Do you have any idea what I would do for you? Huh? Any idea what I'm willing to do? What I did to that bitch is nothing compared to what I'm willing to do..." He places his forehead to yours, breathing in the smell of your sweet conditioner and listening to your ragged breaths. For a single moment, he feels like he's in heaven.

Then, the sirens come into ear shot.

Eyes wide, filled to the brim with tears that you refuse to let fall, you search his cold gaze. "What did you do?"

"I told you that I would protect you, yeah? That's exactly what I did." He leans his face impossibly closer to yours, "I have a feeling she won't be bothering you. Not as long as I'm around."

You turn your head to the side, avoiding his eyes as your tears fall. "Hey!" The grip he has on your chin is rough, probably rough enough to bruise.

"Yeo, please," you sob, subconsciously wrapping both your hands around his free one: which is still perched against your stomach.

"Look at me," he all but begs, shifting his weight around anxiously as you slowly turn your eyes to face him.

"I didn't do anything wrong, you know that right? She may have got hurt, but... after everything she did to you? That cunt had it coming. Okay?"

"Mhm." You bite your lip, nodding tightly in his grasp. "I'm sorry, Yeo."

"I know, baby." He places a chaste kiss to your cheek. He releases his death grip and taps your cheek gently with a smile. "I just want to protect you. You'll let me, won't you?"

The sirens are full force, ringing through the school. The lights flash through the tall window.

"Won't you?" He leans his head down and brushes his lips against you, almost begging.

"Yeah." You mumble into his lips, letting him kiss you deeply.

"Good. Let's get out of here, Petal."

#kang yeosang #yandere yeosang #ateez #yandere ateez #ateez angst #angst fic #yandere fic #yeosang fic #ateez fic #otona blue

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