#my little piano: music is magic

[anghraine]

I was thinking about some 80s music, as one does, and was suddenly struck by the need to make a poll for one specific demographic I belong to: people born in the 1980s.

If your birthday song doesn't fit any of these categories, pick the one that fits best!

*Obviously I can't enforce this, but no, people born in late 1979 or early 1990 don't count as 80s babies for this poll, even if it was 1980/1989 somewhere in the world at the time, just not where you were born.

[anghraine]

My best friend who is also a 90s kid: we should listen to some of the music from our youth, like-

Me: Enya?

Over time 90s music will get boiled down to just cheap nostalgia for boy bands. This is disgusting. How dare you erase the year where everyone was inexplicably super into Gregorian Chants

[ramen8008]

Tony having a list of habits of the avengers that annoy him yet also altering the entirety of the compound to meet those habits.

Tony: You realize how annoying it is to have you in my vents?? Just let me breathe my 5 million dollar air in peace

Also Tony installing a proper scanner which doesn't ring any alarms if Barton is in the vents but instead just makes in a video compilation of each time he falls.

Tony: Thor I swear to the Gods. If you take one more Pop tart from me I wil-

Also Tony bulge buying Pop tarts for every time Thor visits.

Tony: Cap how do you not kn- No being frozen for 80 years is no excuse. This is vital part of history, No I don't care that it's "just a show" this changed lives

Also Tony installing a "Cap is confused again" Protocol on FRIDAY for each time there's anything Steve doesn't understand which might be basic knowledge to everyone else so FRIDAY can give him a summary of it all.

Tony: Nat you need to stop hiding weapons everywhere. I can't be going around finding machetes in the compound!

Also Tony providing her as much space she needs for her weapons in each room if that's what she needs to feel safe.

Tony: No! No magic. Wanda you go through my head again and I swear you'll regret it. My therapist quit, you think you can handle it? Nuh uh this is a magic free household young lady.

Also Tony installing a whole new simulation based training room so she can practice her magic properly.

Tony: Bucky, I know I'm rich but can you please stop crushing my equipment and cups

Also Tony very gently talking to Bucky about everything he is doing step by step as he checks up Bucky's arm. Giving him his own room with open windows so he doesn't feel trapped with every bit of little hobby he might pick up from knitting to painting to playing the piano. A bookshelf with the entire limited edition of The Hobbit and every 40s music he might like. And some more recent songs in case he decides to "stop being old".

Tony: Strange I need you to stop doing that shit. I understand you're a wizard but don't they have rules for that? Like no magic outside of Hogwarts until you're 17? None of that weird stuff in the tower... ever.

Also Tony creating a special meditating room for Stephen with Pink Floyd playing where he can just calm down for a while in the tower and somehow a room in the mirror dimension when he really wants peace and quiet.

Tony: Vision I know you're an AI who is very interested in human nature and I am flattered but I swear if I hear one more explosion because you tried to learn knitting or the piano I will find an off switch whether or not you have one.

Also Tony making every single hobby Vision wants to pick up possible in the best way. Providing him his own kitchen to getting him a piano teacher because he wanted to experience "learning by being taught"

Tony: Banner I get that you have everything under control which is great but my lab is not big enough for The Hulk

Also Tony making his lab big enough. Getting him his own lab. Making sure he had everything he needed to calm down when he couldn't control the Hulk. Labeling him as the "strongest avenger". Getting him a therapist. Making sure he never feels alone yet always has peace

Tony: Rhodey you need to understand that when I say I'm fine I'm fine. You act like such a party pooper you know that?

Also Tony who trusts Rhodey with his life and everything. Making sure Rhodey never feels lesser than. Who couldn't be more grateful that Rhodey stuck by him throughout everything and always stayed. Tony always turning to him for advice and no matter how much he acts like Rhodey is being a bummer always takes his words to heart.

Tony: Peter.... Don't walk on the ceiling! Oh my God don't die! What the hell kid please don't explode your homework again! Your aunt is going to KILL me! You mess with the suit again and I- No , you can't borrow my suit what do you mean? I told you to stay back, tell me what you interpreted that as? No the adults are talking.

Also Tony doing everything that kid wants no matter what. Making sure his suit is so safe that he might as well be immortal. Buying him everything he even remotely suggests to liking. He has his own room in the tower cause of all the time he spends in the labs.

"You want to test out this new thing with your webs but it requires this extremely expensive and toxic chemical? As long as you wear proper protection!"

"you said you had to write about a famous place you went to but since you haven't travelled much you were gonna write about the Stark exhibition or times square.....So I got you these world tour tickets. I think they hit every landmark , just message me the ones they don't and I'll handle it. And don't worry there are two so your aunt can go with you"

[jmliebert]

♡ little things that would make gale fall harder for you♡

how you join him in stargazing

how you read the books he recommended to you with such enthusiasm (and how you leave cute little notes inside them for him to discover later)

how you make his morning coffee just the way he likes it

how kind you are even if you don't have to be

how you offered him the magical artefact to consume without a second thought

how you always listen to him patiently if he goes on a tangent

how you tried on his wizard cape and hat once (and how positively lovely you looked while wearing it)

how you make ridiculous comments about Elminster

how you are jealous of his earrings or more importantly with whom it connected him...

how he catches you admiring his beard

how you make dirty jokes that leave him acting scandalised, though he secretly loves them

how you've earned Tara's approval (he was really worried about this one)

how you are never trying to rush him when he talks

how well-developed your moral compass is (it might sounds strange but it's truth though!)

how you lose yourself in the music while playing the piano in his study room (especially when you think he's not looking)

how you surprise him with sudden butt slaps, turning his cheeks a delightful shade of pink...

how powerful you are while in a battle

how you kiss his orb delicately

how you are his big spoon when he feels down

how you effortlessly draw him into deep philosophical conversations (your intelligence is so sexy and stimulating for gale)

how you enjoy sunbathing on his balcony, basking in the warmth of the sun

how thrilled you are when he excitedly shares a new spell or discovery with you

how you make him feel worthy

how you place gentle little pecks on his lips

how you match his freak in bed

how you wish for him to stay cuddled up with you in bed "just a little longer" every morning (it's difficult for him to resist of course)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡

[anghraine]

Ye gods, you don't know what you've unleashed, @scholarlyhobbit!

The challenge: Put your music library on shuffle, then list the first five songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for which one they like the most! Then tag some friends to keep it going.

Tagging, hmm: @ladytharen, @kareenvorbarra, @incognitajones

I was tagged by @daughterofthesunlands, who tagged me on my main blog, @myblacksailstales, but since I mostly live on this side blog these days, I've decided to reply from here (thanks for the tag!) The challenge:

Put your music library on shuffle, then list the first five songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for which one they like the most!

Then tag Tumblr friends to keep the game going!

Tagging @elbereth-gilth0niel @valar-did-me-wrong @helenvader @boop-le-snoot @gauntletgirlie @tvgirlsays and anyone else who wants to play :)

[caramelarrowswife]

DARK CACAO COOKIE AS YOUR FATHER!

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Because this old man needs a child to cheer him up <3

Father!Dark Cacao Cookie x GN!Child!Reader

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Needless to say, Dark Cacao gets EXTREMELY protective of you. He lost his son, he will not lose his remaining child.

You got a partner? Oh, that’s cute. Are they prepared for his 275-question interrogation? What do they do for a living? What’s their mayor? Are they trained in any type of martial art? What do they love most about you? Are they prepared for the consequences of breaking your heart? Would they throw themselves in front of a bullet for you?

He’s not very up-to-date with the norms of the current age. He’ll accept and love you if you’re gay or trans, but he might need Caramel Arrow or Crunchy Chip’s help with new terms.

Extremely old-fashioned. You do not get to sleep in the same room as your partner before you get married.

Dark Cacao will call you by your name in public, but has nicknames for you at home. ‘My little knight’, ‘Aegiya’ (Korean for ‘baby’), ‘my dear’.

He finds cooking a very important skill, so you grew up watching him cook something every night. He almost cried when you were in your cooking-ramen-every-night-phase.

You best believe he is not leaving your side after a failed assassination. He would rather host a meeting digitally (or, God forbid, host the meeting in your room) than leave you alone.

You have to play at least one sport, one instrument and one martial art. He loves playing the piano along with your instrument of choice or training with you in his free time.

He has to meet your friends at least seven times before you’re allowed to meet up with them without constantly being under a bodyguard’s careful watch.

You’ve decided to marry someone of an extremely low rank? Good for you! If you look closely, you can see Dark Cacao banging his head against the wall in the background. Don’t worry, he’ll come around… eventually.

Dark Cacao’s not a big fan of E-cigarettes. If he catches you vaping, he’ll sigh and tell you to smoke a cigarette like a normal person. Maybe he’ll realise he told you to smoke later in the night, which will result in a complete clearance of any type of cigarette in your room.

He was so proud of you when you killed your first rabid animal, most likely a Dire Creamwolf. His advisors were more than a little concerned.

The other Ancient Heroes absolutely adore you. Hollyberry Cookie fed you alcohol when you were nine (she was banished from the Kingdom for three months), Golden Cheese Cookie liked to fly really high up with you when you were a baby (Dark Cacao had a panic attack on the ground), White Lily Cookie will work in the royal garden with you and Pure Vanilla Cookie will do fun things with you and teach you a little bit of healing magic.

Dark Cacao is a big fan of classical music, especially Bach’s Goldberg Variations. He lies awake at night when you’re in a phase and blast B.A.D 4 music all day and night.

While Dark Cacao doesn’t always know how to show it, your opinion is extremely important to him. He already lost Dark Choco because he didn’t listen well enough (at least, so he thinks) he tries to be a better father for you.

Hollyberry got him drunk (on ‘accident’) the day you left for college. He called you, moping because his only child had ‘left him’.

He would literally pass through fire for you, but to eat the sweet things you consume religiously..? Most certainly not.

You convinced him to come with you to one of your favourite bands once. It ended up being something his therapist would hear about.

Dark Cacao likes musicals a lot better than movies, so you’ll be growing up with a lot of Lin Manual Miranda.

[mojo-bro-tho]

There’s something to be said about how Emmrich canonically has anxiety but we never really see him ever panic.

Like he says in game that how magic is done in Nevarra is a lot of times involving those breathing exercises and stuff so we can wager that he’s good at clearing his head when he’s in a pinch but anyone who has PANIC attacks (me) knows that like half the time you don’t really feel it coming, it just happens.

And Emmrich kinda says that to Rook, how his fear is triggered or can be triggered at any time but he can also speak so casually about it because time has worn him to be able to do that. So whenever I’m writing Emmrich I accidentally imprint a little bit of myself in there (oof) where he can put on a good face and really sell how in control he is.

But on the inside? Mama he is WRECKED cuz that’s so me it’s crazy.

So anyways, the point of this is I’m very fascinated by the idea of a story where Emmrich’s panic quite literally comes from nothing at all. And if it did come from something, the something is so innocuous that no “regular” person would ever consider it panic inducing and maybe on any other day of the week it isn’t for Emmrich but today it was.

And that’s all that matters.

Seeing his reflection in the mirror and having the sudden memory of he used to look. Bumping into a desk and realizing he bruises easier now. A rock sliding down a cliff. Things like that. Small things, meaningless things that become much bigger shadows.

I used to have a fear of sudden piano music for like 2 years in high school. But I was also in concert band.

I can’t help be see the similarity with a man who’s afraid of death and yet is surrounded by it. And how simply the exposure and flow of time did what it could to ease. And sometimes it’s done purposefully.

Can you imagine Emmrich sitting in front of a skeletal construct as an apprentice, staring into its empty eye sockets and knowing that inside of him that’s what he looks like? That that’s what awaits him? Heart stammering in his chest, ears ringing, jaw tight, breathing both too fast and too hard. Staring until he’s about to lose consciousness and then falls to the ground while gasping for air…

And then 15 minutes later he just gets up and keeps working on the construct again. Whenever characters canonically have anxiety or panic disorders, my mind always goes to moments like that. The ways that they suffer to cope because that’s sadly a big part of it. Sort of like exposure therapy I guess. It’s just very interesting to me.

[birdofwildness]

☾An intoxicating conversation

Warnings::Dark!Tom Riddle, possessiveness,1950's,lack of feminism,religious symbolism,alcohol

☾Tom Riddle

Summary::you're drunk,sad. You call Tom.

The pianist lazily tapped the keys, someone laughed at the bar, and cigarette smoke swirled like a faint veil beneath the ceiling fan.

I rested my fingers on the rim of a cocktail glass and watched the man sitting across me. He wasn’t particularly interesting—perhaps a little too aware of his own good looks—but still, there was something about him that made me toy with the idea of walking over.

Then i remembered that sentence. "A lady does not initiate conversation with a man."

Of course. A lady does not initiate. A lady observes, waits, hopes that someone notices her, speaks to her, chooses her. A lady stands in the background, beautifully illuminated, as if she were nothing more than a painting on the wall, a carefully arranged composition. She simply exists, artfully positioned, in the right lighting, like a Monet painting. A scene painted with broad strokes that looks perfect from afar—but step closer, and you’ll see the blurred colors, the chaotic disorder behind the illusion of harmony.

My lips trembled slightly—it wasn’t a smile, more of a fleeting reaction hovering at the edge of a thought. How simple was the world imagined by those who had created this rule. A world where a woman was merely the waiting counterpart to the acting man—a prop, a backdrop, a decorative piece.

A faint lipstick stain remained on the glass rim, a trace of my presence, my touch—yet how easily it could disappear with a single swipe.

The man turned away. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the pulse of the music run through my skin.

Maybe tonight, I didn’t want to be a painting. Maybe tonight, I would be the one to pick up the brush.

It wasn’t this man that interested me. It was never men like him. There had always been someone else.

Someone beside whom I never had to wait for the right moment. Who never forced me into silence, into polite smiles, into letting myself be chosen. A boy who let me ask, initiate, exist in whatever way I wanted.

Tom Riddle.

The name lingered inside of me like an old melody, forgotten until a single note was enough to bring it back. We hadn’t seen each other in years—perhaps not since we could even call eachother friends anymore. But for a long time, we had been. The best of friends.

But friendship doesn’t protect you from everything. Not from the words spoken. Not from the ones left unsaid.

I straightened my posture, shaking off the memories with the movement. A shadow in the smoke, a feeling from the past that no longer needed to be taken seriously—that was all Tom Riddle was to me now.

My gaze caught on the bar counter, my eyes lingering for a moment on the fingerprints left on the glass rim. The music softened, the smoke thickened, and everything seemed distant… yet there it was, a memory stirring in my mind, pulling me back.

The plans we had dreamed up together, sitting on the benches of Hogwarts. The man I had once called my friend, the one who lived not by rules but by the pursuit of freedom and knowledge, was now…

I have heard from an acquaintance that Riddle, instead of bringing prestige to Hogwarts, had ended up working at Borgin & Burkes. A small, tucked-away shop of dark magic, where the most dangerous spells and forbidden artifacts lay hidden. He was now employed at the very store everyone tried to avoid.

So much for the ambitions of youth.

I raised the glass to my lips again, but this time, I no longer felt the familiar cool refreshment.

My friends were sinking into deeper conversation. As the hours passed, the soft melodies of the piano nearly vanished beneath the noise of the nightclub. The women spoke more and more of husbands, marriages, and their disappointments.

"Why did I ever think that marriage would make everything right?" began Augusta Longbottom, who had always considered herself an idealist, but now sadness reflected in her eyes. "My husband works all day, and when he finally comes home, it's as if I don't even exist. Nothing has changed since the initial magic, but..."

"Exactly! Every little thing we once loved about each other fades over time," said Cedrella Weasley, glancing at the group with a smile that seemed warm but tired. "My husband always used to say he needed nothing but me, but now… now there’s nothing between us. Nothing that breathes life into our relationship."

A hint of bitterness shimmered between the words. I said nothing—I had nothing to say. Simply because I was single. Instead,I started searching for patterns. The women around me shared a slow but certain pain, each speaking about their disappointment in their husbands.

"Why is it always men who decide what matters most?" Augusta continued. "They think we’ll do anything for marriage, but they don’t understand that we also want something—something they don’t give us. It’s all a performance, a game we can never win."

"Well, since we’re talking about men," Cedrella said with a teasing smile, "tell me, who was the first man who truly made your heart race?"

The question stirred a slight tension in the conversation, each woman trying to hide a forgotten piece of her past.

"Oh, my first?" Augusta let out a small, nostalgic laugh. "He was a real charmer, you know—the kind who always won everything. But then I realized I was just part of the game. And, of course, it ended."

Weasley quietly revealed a secret. "Mine... was a professor. But I never told him. I remember he was always there, somewhere in the distance, but I could never reach him."

The group laughed, but in each of their eyes lingered a past not easily forgotten. The laughter slowly faded, and I drifted back into my thoughts.

My first love wasn’t a professor, nor a famous figure. It was Tom Riddle.

"So, he was my first. With him, everything was completely different," I admitted, no longer caring what my friends might think. A faint blush rose to my cheeks, but the words spilled out before I could stop them.

Cedrella, just catching on to the direction of the conversation, shot me a curious look. "Oh, so his name is just ‘he’? Well, that’s very creative. And what happened to him?" she teased.

I hesitated for a moment, a single tear glinting in my eye before I lowered my gaze. "He was always just... there. I haven’t seen him since Hogwarts, but he never expected me to be perfect. We simply… talked."

The room fell silent for a moment, the women exchanging glances as I sank deeper into my thoughts.

"And where is he now?" Augusta asked, a touch of curiosity in her voice.

"He lives in a completely different world now," I replied bitterly.

Cedrella shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "Well, this Mr. ‘He’ sounds like a fascinating young man."

I laughed.

I had thought about Tom too much tonight. I had thought about him too much over the years.

And I was too drunk.

If I hadn't admitted it to myself before,I knew it now: he wasn’t just a memory.

Without a word, I stood up, adjusted my dress, and walked toward the bar with steady steps.

A young witch working behind the counter—perhaps an apprentice—was wiping a glass when I spoke up.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find the telephones?"

The woman behind the bar looked at me with slight surprise, then nodded. "Down the back hallway, to the right. There are a few booths for guests."

I nodded in thanks and pushed through the crowd. The smoky air, the laughter, the clinking of glasses all faded into the background as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Along the wall stood a row of red telephone booths, their polished brass handles gleaming under the low light.

None of them were occupied. Fate wanted me to do this.

I stepped into one, closed the door behind me, and stared at the telephone for a moment. It was cold under my touch, the weight of the black receiver resting familiarly in my hand. As familiar as a telephone could be to a woman in the 1950s.

I knew the number. It was nothing more than an old memory, something I had last heard years ago. But some things one never forgets.

Slowly, deliberately, I began to dial.

A click. The line came to life. A faint hum sounded in the distance.

One ring.Another.

My fingers tightened around the receiver, my heart pounding harder than it should.

Then—a soft click. Someone had answered.

"Tom?" I asked, suddenly unsure.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

I recognized his voice. Time had done nothing to dull that cool, measured tone that had always been his. But there was something else there now—perhaps a hint of curiosity.

I smiled into the receiver, but when I spoke, even I was surprised by how drunken my voice sounded.

"Hiiiii Toooom."

"Are you all right?" he asked. His voice was as calm as ever, but somehow, it still carried a trace of concern.

I tried to laugh, but it came out as a rough little sigh. My head buzzed from the alcohol, my thoughts were tangled, but somehow, right now, none of it mattered.

Only that Tom Riddle was on the other end of the line.

"Of course. I'm fine."

I paused for a moment before adding, "I just... wanted to call you."

He said nothing.

And suddenly,I felt foolish. I shouldn't have done this. It was stupid.

But the words had already slipped out before I could stop them.

"Do you… um… remember me?"

On the other end of the line, Riddle was silent for a moment. The kind of silence that was typical of him. Not empty, not uncertain—just his mind working, analyzing the situation with precise, deliberate calculation.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Y/N."

There was no question in his voice. No hesitation. Just my name, spoken in that same old, familiar tone.

I closed my eyes. It was strange how, after all these years, my name still sounded like that on his lips. Not cold, not warm—just… the way he had always said it.

"Of course I remember you."

I let out a quiet laugh. I hadn’t even realized I was expecting something else. Maybe polite indifference, a dismissive "Y/N? No, doesn’t ring a bell." Or perhaps for him to simply hang up. But no. He wasn’t like that. He never forgot anything.

"Good… because… because I remember you too."

Tom was silent again, and somewhere in the background, I heard a faint noise. Something shifting—perhaps he was moving things around in the shop.

"Is that why you called?" he asked. Not accusingly. Just curious.

Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say. Why had I called?

One moment I had been laughing with my friends, and the next, I was here, clutching the telephone as if it were the only thing keeping me grounded.

The silence stretched between us, and I felt the receiver growing heavier in my hand.

"I… heard you work at Borgin & Burkes," I said finally. The words slipped out more easily than expected. "And I’ve always been a big fan of the shop."

A lie. I had never even set foot inside. It was a run-down, wretched place.

I pressed my lips together, wanting to take back the words, but it was too late. Then the man let out a quiet laugh.

He laughed. It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t cold. Just a small, barely audible, sigh-like chuckle.

"Y/N"

He knew. He knew I was lying.

I cleared my throat, trying to compose myself. "Okay. Maybe I’m not a big fan of it."—"Maybe I’ve never even been there."

"Maybe?" he echoed, and now his voice was unmistakably amused.

I smiled. This was a fun game. "Alright, fine. I’ve never been there," I finally admitted. "But that’s not the point."

"Then what is the point?" Tom’s voice was calm again, patiently waiting for me to say why I really called.

But I wasn’t sure if I could put it into words. Because if I said it out loud, it would become real.

"Alright. Let me tell you something, okay?"

Riddle didn’t respond immediately, but I could almost feel his attention on me ."I liked you at school. A lot."

A brief silence. "Oh. Well, that was quite obvious," he added.

I closed my eyes for a moment. No. He didn’t understand. "No—Tom." His name was barely a whisper on my lips. "I liked you like that. You know..."

My heart pounded in my throat.

On the other end of the line, a short silence, then he spoke again—coolly, precisely, yet somehow entertained.

"Oh… and you don’t have a husband to confess such things to?"

I smiled. Typical Tom. He didn’t get flustered, didn’t get embarrassed—he analyzed from the outside instead.

"I don’t."

He didn’t answer right away, but I could almost hear him weighing his response in his mind. Then, finally, he spoke.

"That’s quite surprising. At your age, you’re practically an old maid."

I let out a shocked laugh. "Oh, really? And you’re the one lecturing me? Let me guess—you’re single too."

On the other end of the line, there was another small pause. I grinned. Gotcha.

I felt like this was getting to be too much.

"Alright, this is getting awkward," I laughed nervously, twisting the phone cord around my fingers. "And I think you’re right, I... am ridiculously drunk."

I took a deep breath, then, more to myself than to him, I added, "And I think it was good to say it. Now I can finally let you go..."

The words had a bittersweet ring to them. "I need to find a husband," I added playfully, but my voice trembled slightly. "Well— I guess I should hang up now."

I was about to put the receiver down when Riddle spoke.

"Wait."

I froze at the command.

"Don't hang up."—"I missed you," he added.

My heart pounded in my throat. Then Tom spoke again, slower this time.

"You don’t have to find a husband."—There was no mockery in his voice. No condescension.

I didn’t interrupt.

"I probably won’t have a wife either," he continued. "So what? Who cares what others think?"

I closed my eyes.

"Sooner or later, you'll see—the world is going to change."

The usual silence. My fingers were still gripping the receiver, but I couldn’t speak. Tom never said things like this. He never talked about the future this way.

"Where are you?"

I hesitated, trying to gather my thoughts, then finally answered, "At the Hog’s Head Inn."

The man froze for a moment, then let out a quiet chuckle. "Well, aren’t you a refined lady?"

"Stay there," he said after a brief pause, making his decision.

A moment of silence passed through the line. Then, without another word, he hung up.

I placed the receiver back down and stood there for a moment, gripping the phone. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t even process his words. What did he mean by 'stay there?'

When I finally moved, I returned to the girls, who were still sitting at the table, laughing softly, some spinning their empty glasses. As I sat down, my friends looked at me—and within seconds, they could read it all over my face. Something had happened.

"What happened? Where were you?" Augusta asked from the other end of the table, watching me curiously. Cedrella was listening too, but I didn’t say anything.

I hesitated for a moment, my eyes slowly scanning the married women in front of me. I took a deep breath—I wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come right away. My friends watched me attentively but remained silent, letting me decide when and how to speak.

"Alright..." I began, my voice slightly hoarse, the words painfully hard to push out. "This is going to be... a bit messy, but I’ll tell you."

I tried to force a small smile, but it didn’t quite work.

"So... you know that Tom and I were always friends. So, yeah… he’s Mr.'He'. And well… when we left Hogwarts, everything changed. A little, you know… maybe life just pulled us apart," I muttered, watching as curiosity grew on my friends' faces with each word.

"And I went to the bartender because I asked where the phones were," I laughed quietly, but the laughter quickly turned into tension. "You know, I just wanted to talk."

Another brief silence followed. The girls waited patiently for me to continue.

"And… in the end, I told him. After too many years, I finally opened my mouth and said that I liked him. And I guess he didn’t feel the same, because he started avoiding the topic."

After a short, almost awkward pause, I continued. "And when it was over, he told me to stay here." I fell silent for a moment.

"But I... I don’t get it," I laughed at myself."Why am I supposed to stay here?"

Cedrella, who was always the one to see things the fastest, spoke up first.

"Y/N, don’t you see?" she asked as if the answer were obvious. "He told you to stay here because he’s probably coming. He just…" she shrugged. "Maybe he thought it was obvious to you. Because it would be—to anyone else."

"Oh, I genuinely thought he meant I should just drown myself in this pile of wine. And then my body would stay here. You know," I muttered, resting my head in my hands.

"Good grief, you are completely unhinged… and morbid," Augusta replied calmly but firmly.

I pushed myself up from the table, and the girls exchanged glances but didn’t say a word.

"I need to get some fresh air," I said, forcing a faint smile before heading for the door. The girls didn’t stop me—they knew that what I needed now wasn’t company.

As I stepped out of the door, the cool night air refreshed me a little, and for a moment, the world around me quieted. The streetlights flickered softly, and there was nothing else to be heard. I tried to absorb the entire night. My heart was still pounding, but now that I was alone, I tried to collect my thoughts.

"Why did I do this?" I muttered to myself. The effects of the alcohol had faded, but the chaos in my mind was still there. Why had it been so important to tell him all of that? And why did I feel like I couldn't leave the conversation unfinished?

I tried to calm my heart when I heard footsteps behind me.A beam of light briefly illuminated the man's figure, and my heart began to race again. It was Tom Riddle.

He looked like a fallen angel—almost unnaturally handsome, but there was something corrupt about him, something carelessly sinful, hinting at unspoken depravity. His face was unforgettable, but at the same time unsettling, a face that could easily be cast for the roles of cruel men, cannibals, or even Lucifer himself.

My heart skipped a beat.

Tom stopped in front of me ,his gaze sweeping over me, and then a faint, almost mocking smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"I didn’t want us to meet like this..." he said, a bit of embarrassment in his voice, but there was still a certain intimacy in his eyes. "But here we are."

I didn’t know how to respond. Amidst the swirling feelings in my heart, I finally just said, "That’s true," I replied softly, turning my gaze away for a moment, trying to process everything I had felt since our previous conversation.

The man's footsteps were soft as he stepped closer. He paused for a moment, then, as if following an inner command, carefully touched my face. His touch was cold, yet a shiver ran through me.

There was a strange pain in Riddle’s eyes as he leaned in. My heart pounded faster, but something about the entire situation made him inexplicably unreachable.

"You know well that I was conceived under the effects of Amortentia," Tom said, his voice deep and serious. "I can't give you what you desire. At least, not the way normal people do."

I froze for a moment, the weight of his words suffocating me. Yes, he had told me this before. He had confessed it back in my school years.

"Tom..." I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. His story was simply too much, too painful.

He stepped closer, his gaze devouring every inch of my face, trying to understand every hidden emotion, searching for what I was truly looking for. His touch felt as if it wanted to break me gently.

"I couldn’t love you that way," he said, his voice sinking even lower as the words left his lips. "My feelings aren’t like that. Not the way you think. Even 'desire' isn’t the right word. What I feel for you is a need. A compulsion. I need you, Y/N. But not the way others do..."

The words were difficult for him to say. But with every moment, the painful truth became clearer.

"My love is like an obsessive hunger. I can't give you what an ordinary man can. My love is dark, insatiable, and it will never be fulfilled. Just like me."

"I want it... I want you," I whispered, still not fully understanding what I was agreeing to. The desire consuming both of us left no room to stop.

Tom’s lips met mine. The kiss turned intense immediately, and the entire world fell silent around us—only we existed. His lips were wild and hungry.

I felt as if I was losing control, as if everything I had thought before suddenly lost its meaning. The sensation he awakened in me wasn’t normal, wasn’t ordinary.

Riddle's hands gripped me firmly—he never wanted to let go. The kiss grew deeper, more desperate, more untamed.

And then, suddenly, he stopped.

The air was thick with tension, and raw yearning mixed with fear and uncertainty.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice strained. "There’s no turning back now."

[zeviis]

Hold your breath, Love dive

pairing ; choi seunghyun x reader  warnings ; none. authors note ; helloo! this is the first time i'm posting my fanfic, i really hope i did okay :c.

The air is filled with a soft, classical melody played by a live orchestra, with strings and a grand piano, creating an ethereal atmosphere. The scent of roses and fine perfume lingers, and the air is rich with the sound of laughter, whispers, and the swish of satin and velvet.

You step into the grand ballroom, your dusty blue gown flowing gracefully with each movement, its silver-beaded bodice catching the light. The matching mask, delicate with lace and pearls, conceals your identity, adding an air of mystery. The warm glow of chandeliers reflects off the polished floor as soft melodies fill the air. The night feels enchanted, as you twirl, your gown swishing around you, lost in the elegance and allure of the masked gathering. It's a moment where everything feels magical and timeless.

You make your way through the guests, the soft rustle of your gown blending with the lively chatter around you. The elegant faces of masked strangers pass by, but your eyes catch a familiar pair, and you pause. A small group of friends, their own costumes as stunning as yours, stand near a corner, laughing and talking. You approach, your mask adding an element of intrigue as you join them, the warmth of their presence making the night feel even more magical. 

As time passes, your friends slowly drift away, each of them slipping onto the dance floor with their partners, the music swelling around you. You stand for a moment, watching the elegant waltz unfold, feeling the subtle shift in the atmosphere as the room becomes more alive with movement and laughter. The once bustling corner where you stood now feels quiet, and the absence of your friends leaves a soft ache in the air. Alone, you take a deep breath, your gaze lingering on the swirling dancers, pondering whether to join the dance or simply savor the enchanting solitude for a while longer.

You hear a voice from behind you, smooth and inviting, drawing you out of your thoughts.

"You seem lonely, care for a dance?"

You turn around, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the room seems to fade away. His mask is intricate, just like yours, but his eyes hold a mysterious glint—kind yet bold. Without a word, you take in the gesture of his outstretched hand, the offer of connection in this sea of masked strangers. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you place your hand in his, the music guiding you both into the dance.

"You're here alone?" he asked, his hand settling at your waist, his touch light yet confident.

"I was with my friends a moment ago," you responded, a soft shrug accompanying the words.

To your surprise, he let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and a little amused. His eyes sparkled behind his mask, a hint of mischief in his gaze.

"Guess I'll be accompanying you for the time being," he said with a playful smile, his hand still resting at your waist as the dance continued.

"May I ask... your name?" he said, twirling you around gently, his grip on your waist steady as you spun.

"Y/N, yours?" you replied, meeting his gaze, the faintest curiosity in your eyes.

"Seunghyun," he said, his voice soft, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. The closeness sent a shiver down your spine, his breath warm against your skin.

Seunghyun..oh.

He straightened up, his eyes scanning you with an almost too-calculating gaze. "I have to admit, it’s rare to see someone so... captivating, and yet alone at a masquerade like this," he added, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, as if he found the whole situation a little too intriguing.

He guided you effortlessly through the dance, his movements smooth, almost rehearsed. "I must say, you’re lucky to have caught my attention," he continued with a playful smirk, the confidence in his voice bordering on arrogance. "Most people would have to fight for a dance with me."

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at his boldness, but he simply laughed, leaning in again, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "But I suppose I’m in a generous mood tonight."

You couldn't help but scoff at his blatant narcissism, rolling your eyes ever so slightly. "Charming..” you muttered under your breath, but your eyes stayed locked with his, a mix of amusement and disbelief dancing in them.

You couldn't help but feel his gaze follow you, every word oozing with the self-assuredness of someone used to getting exactly what they wanted. "I’m not the type to beg for attention," he added, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting your gaze once again. 

His arrogance was blatant, but his charm was undeniable. Despite the smugness in his words, you couldn’t quite ignore the magnetic pull he seemed to have—whether he knew it or not.

As the final notes of the dance fade, the music slowly winding down, you feel the gentle pull of the crowd. Seunghyun’s hand slips from your waist as the moment between you both dissolves into the noise of the ballroom. Before you can catch your breath, his band members—all equally dressed in their sharp, mysterious outfits—appear, pulling him away with easy familiarity.

"Hold on—" Seunghyun called out, his voice cutting through the noise of the crowd, but before he could say anything more, he was swallowed up by the sea of people, his figure quickly disappearing.

You stood there for a moment, unsure if you'd even heard him right, your gaze searching the crowd where he'd just been. His words, though cut off, hung in the air, leaving you with an unexpected sense of curiosity.

"Could you guys not have given me a moment?" Seunghyun's voice was tinged with mild annoyance as he shot a glance at his band members, his eyes quickly scanning the crowd.

His gaze flickered over the sea of masked faces, searching for you among the swirling dancers and laughter. The moment he’d been so eager to finish had been stolen by his group, and now, he was clearly frustrated by the interruption.

"You were not supposed to run off to dance with some random girl," Ji Yong added with a playful smirk, crossing his arms as he watched Seunghyun, who now seemed caught between irritation and amusement.

Seunghyun shot him a quick glance, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "I wasn’t planning on it," he shot back, though the way his eyes lingered on you as you stood across the room made it clear that he wasn’t as indifferent as he tried to appear.

"Okay, Mr. Charming, party’s over. We have to go anyway," Taeyang said, patting Seunghyun on the shoulder and giving him a subtle push toward the exit.

"But I haven't even gotten her num—" Seunghyun protested, his voice trailing off as Daesung stepped in, giving him a playful shove from behind.

"Come on, let's go, you're causing a scene," Daesung grinned, practically herding Seunghyun toward the door with his hands on his shoulders. The rest of the group followed, laughing at Seunghyun’s playful complaints.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing back one last time, knowing you were still in there, standing among the masked strangers. Just a little longer. That’s all he would have needed—one more dance, one more exchange, one more chance to leave a mark before the night slipped away.

And you? You felt the same.Seunghyun had carried himself with effortless confidence, his narcissistic charm both infuriating and magnetic. His sharp suit and mysterious mask only added to his striking presence, every movement smooth and deliberate. Yet, despite his arrogance, there had been something real in the way his gaze lingered before he was pulled away.

You had wanted to dismiss him, to roll your eyes at his flirtation, but the memory of his touch, his voice, and that fleeting look stayed with you. you couldn’t help but wish—just for a moment—that he had stayed.

Seunghyun sat in the car, his expression tense, the usual smugness absent from his face. His jaw was set, eyes staring out the window, clearly lost in thought.

"Hey man, we had no time to stay," Taeyang said, trying to reassure him.

"I know, I know," Seunghyun muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. But knowing didn’t make it any less frustrating. The night had ended too soon, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself actually wishing for just a little more time.

At home, you lay sprawled on your bed, staring at the ceiling, but all you could see was Seunghyun. His smirk, his lingering gaze, the way he had held you so effortlessly—it was maddening.

You hated it. You had met him once, and he had been nothing but egotistical, full of himself, convinced you would fall for his charm. So why were you even thinking about him?

Most importantly, he was an idol—someone untouchable, larger than life. And you? You were just a nobody.

Still, neither of you could ignore the lingering question in your minds—was that really the last time?

Days turned into weeks, then months, and still, neither of you reached out. You could have—his name was everywhere, just a search away.

But you didn’t. For obvious reasons.

He was an idol, living in a world far removed from yours. And you? You were just someone he danced with once at a masquerade. It was foolish to dwell on a fleeting moment, yet somehow, neither of you could forget.

One afternoon, you found yourself at a high-end art gallery, browsing through an exhibit you’d stumbled upon by chance. The quiet elegance of the space was a welcome distraction from the noise of the world outside. As you stood before a painting, the brushstrokes thick with emotion, you couldn’t help but think about how sometimes, life’s most impactful moments were the ones left unresolved. 

You continued to wander through the gallery, lost in thought, something caught your eye. At first, you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you. But then, you saw him—standing across the room, just a figure in the distance. His hair, the same color as you remembered, and his tall, confident silhouette were unmistakable.

Seunghyun.

For a moment, you froze, your heart picking up pace as the familiar sense of surprise and curiosity surged within you. He hadn’t seen you yet. His attention was fixed on the art piece in front of him, his posture relaxed as if he belonged here.

You stood still, unsure of what to do. Your hands were trembling, betraying the rush of emotions you hadn’t expected.

Suddenly, he turned around, his eyes meeting yours. The moment you locked gazes, you saw the flicker of recognition in his expression, followed by a slight pause. His posture shifted, as if he was taken aback for a second, caught in the same whirlwind of surprise that you were.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the space between you charged with an unspoken tension. Seunghyun’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining it, and then a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Well, this is a surprise," he said, his voice smooth, though there was a hint of amusement in it. He took a step toward you, his presence unmistakable as ever.

You froze for a second longer, unsure of what to say, before finally managing to meet his gaze again. "I could say the same," you replied, your voice steady, though you couldn’t completely hide the fluttering feeling in your chest.

Seunghyun's smirk widened slightly as he took another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "I didn’t expect to run into you here," he said, his tone teasing yet laced with something more, something less playful and more curious.

You swallowed, the air feeling thicker around you. The encounter, the awkwardness of it, brought all the memories of that night back—his charm, his arrogance, and the unexpected way he'd left an impression. But now, standing face-to-face again, it felt like more. Was this fate or just coincidence?

"Guess the universe has its way of bringing people together," you said, your words carefully chosen, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

He chuckled softly, a low sound that seemed to echo in the quiet gallery. "Maybe," he said, his eyes scanning your face for a moment before lingering on you with an intensity that almost made you forget to breathe. "Or maybe I’m just lucky."

It was said with the same arrogance you remembered, but this time, there was something in his gaze that made it feel more personal—less about the charm, more about the connection.

"I don’t want to… let you go as a mystery again," Seunghyun said, his voice soft yet determined as he pulled out his phone. He glanced at you, his expression a mix of amusement and something more serious, as if he had made up his mind.

He tapped at the screen for a moment before holding it out to you, the offer clear in his eyes. "I think it’s time we stop pretending we’re just strangers passing by," he added, his tone both teasing and sincere.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision, but then you found yourself tapping your contact information into his phone. The action felt almost automatic, like it was something you’d been waiting for, though you hadn’t quite realized it until now. Once you finished, you handed the phone back to him. Your fingers brushed slightly, and for a brief moment, the air seemed to crackle with that same electricity from the masquerade.

Seunghyun’s voice broke the silence between you two, his tone casual yet with a hint of curiosity. "Would you like to hang out here for a bit? Or were you planning on leaving?"

You nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I’d like that," you said, your voice steady but your heart betraying you with a quickened pace.

Seunghyun’s expression softened, a pleased look crossing his face as he gestured toward a nearby bench, nestled in front of a large painting. "Great," he said, leading the way. "Let’s sit and take it all in for a while."

Both of you sat down, the gallery's soft lighting casting gentle shadows around you, creating a serene and intimate atmosphere. The quiet murmurs of other visitors faded into the background, leaving just the two of you. You found yourselves lost in the art, the paintings around you sparking silent conversations as you exchanged glances, allowing the art to fill the space between you. Seunghyun’s eyes shifted from piece to piece, studying them with a thoughtful intensity. His usual confidence was replaced by a more introspective side, something you hadn’t expected. As he pointed out the intricate details or spoke about his interpretations, it was clear that he was engaged, appreciating the complexity of the pieces with a quiet passion.

As time passed, the conversation began to wind down, and the gallery started to feel like it was wrapping up. The once vibrant exchange of thoughts about art shifted, the moments between words growing longer. Seunghyun checked his watch, a subtle sign that he had to leave soon.

You both fell into a quiet lull, the space between you suddenly feeling more distant, as if the reality of the situation was settling in. He shifted slightly, his gaze still on you, but with that familiar tension creeping back into his expression. He stood up slowly, brushing off his clothes as he glanced around the gallery one last time. “I guess I should get going,” he said quietly, but there was something unspoken hanging in the air.

And just before he turned to leave, Seunghyun looked back at you, his eyes soft but intent. "Text me," he said, his voice low, almost as if he was offering something more than just words. It wasn’t a command, but a quiet invitation—one that lingered in the air.

You gave a small nod, watching him walk away, and this time, you didn’t feel like you ere left with a mystery. There was something more—something you could finally hold onto.

You both spent hours texting, the conversation flowing easily between you. What started as simple exchanges grew into deeper talks, often lasting late into the night. Texts ranged from lighthearted jokes to more serious moments, where you both shared thoughts and stories you'd never expected to. The connection between you deepened with every message, as if the distance between your worlds didn't matter anymore.

“Strange how we’re still talking like this. But I’m not complaining,” his message read.

You leaned back, reflecting on how unexpected this connection was, from that brief encounter at the masquerade to hours of texting that felt so natural.

You replied, “I guess some things are just meant to happen.”

A moment later, his reply lit up the screen: “Just you and me, huh? I don’t mind it. We’ll see where this goes.”

You smiled, feeling that same magnetic pull. It was strange, but it felt right. 

The tension between you and Seunghyun had been building even more for the past few weeks. Late-night texts, shared laughs, and the easy flow of conversation had made it clear that there was something more between you two—something neither of you had fully addressed.

One evening, as you sat on your couch, scrolling through your messages, his name popped up on your screen. "Can we talk?" the message read.

Your heart skipped. You knew what was coming. He had always been careful with his words, playful and guarded, but tonight felt different. You quickly typed back, "Of course. What’s up?"

The reply came almost instantly: "I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve been pretending like this is just a game, but I can’t anymore. I don’t want to pretend with you."

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear those words until now. You had felt it—the subtle longing in his texts, the way he’d lingered on certain topics, but hearing him admit it so openly made your heart race.

You typed slowly, the words coming easier than you expected: "I’ve been thinking about you too. And I don’t want to pretend either."

The silence on the other end felt heavy, but only for a moment. Then, his reply came—so simple, yet it felt like everything had shifted. "I’m glad you feel the same way."

You sat there for a moment, letting the weight of his confession sink in. There was no more uncertainty, no more pretending. The distance between you felt smaller now, as though this was the beginning of something real.

"So, what now?" you typed out.

His response came quickly, a little lighter than before but filled with warmth: "I don’t know. But I think we should find out together."

Your heart fluttered at the simplicity and sincerity in his words. This wasn’t a game, not anymore. It was real. The weight of the moment felt different now, as if everything had aligned, and for the first time, you both knew what you wanted.

A final message popped up on your screen from him: "So... when can I see you again?"

You couldn’t help but grin as you typed back: "Soon. I think I’m ready for that."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀숨 참고 love dive

[m0nsterqzzz]

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar - 

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack. 

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives. 

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

 All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

[anghraine]

I ran a series of polls awhile ago wrt the best Queen song other than "Bohemian Rhapsody." The winner was "Don't Stop Me Now," which is one of my all-time favorites. Buuuut I was listening to a different song and suddenly wondered:

“The Show Must Go On”: https://youtu.be/huc7IL7b8S8

“Who Wants to Live Forever”: https://youtu.be/_Jtpf8N5IDE

“Barcelona”: https://youtu.be/Y1fiOJDXA-E

"'39": https://youtu.be/kE8kGMfXaFU

"Teo Torriatte": https://youtu.be/Ge18n2JCwBs

"These Are the Days of Our Lives": https://youtu.be/oB4K0scMysc

"Love of My Life": https://youtu.be/lTr6dyjajKc

"Save Me": https://youtu.be/Iw3izcZd9zU?si=fOQvTU6rPZPtwpzL

“Ensueño”: https://youtu.be/e7XpSsYO2v4

“Under Pressure”: https://youtu.be/ZyT8mVwf_40

[muzaktomyears]

Two of Us play notes/thoughts/Easter eggs I noticed

they played solo Beatles tracks as waiting music before the play began so I sat there listening to ‘Monkberry Moon Delight’ with a theatreful of people which was great 

before Paul turns up John is baking(/burning) bread

John is wearing underwear under his dressing gown which obvs had to be but also my suspension of disbelief was CHALLENGED

when Paul rings up to be let in John does a little rhyme to make him prove he is who he says he is. this is not the exact wording but it went something like: "Five little boys in Hamburg did play/All through the night and all through the day/Ingrid the stripper would do anything/But who got the clap? Was it sexy Stu Sutcliffe - or the lead singer in Wings?" and then Paul has to admit it was him who got the clap

when Paul takes his shoes off he also takes his socks off - idk if this is an intentional barefoot Paul thing but it is hilarious later when they're fighting and Paul is about to leave and angrily putting his socks back on

John and Paul have Get Back era hair/beards, which is weird - presumably because they assume people going to see this will also have seen Get Back but might not know their 1976 looks as well?? idk

some of the dialogue and references have been made a bit more British - the skit they do at the piano is now set in a British greasy spoon instead (still with the American accents)

instead of fighting "like the Hatfields and McCoys" they're now fighting like "the Montagues and the Capulets" (👀)

'Sh-Boom' is played on the record player while they smoke weed (Paul uses the album cover to roll the joint)

George and Ringo both get more of a mention! Paul says that George is happy now (John replies that he's not happy, he's reincarnated). John tells Paul a story Ringo told him about going on a bus in NYC and being recognised.

"I'm the best fuck you ever had" is said by John during the fight (Paul replies "If that's your way of saying you were the real brains behind the Beatles-" etc. etc.)

"You should have married me when you had the chance" is said by John during the Yoko/losing my friend bit

"It's only me" as John's way to get Paul not to leave after the fight

when John goes out to get disguises for them Paul sits at the piano and starts playing some notes he finds there (he'd asked about them earlier and John had said they're nothing). we get a few notes of 'Now and Then' before John returns (ghjshgkhgkdshgksd who did this I HATE YOU)

the appearance of the I Love Paul badge!! John wears it on his disguise jacket and Paul asks what it says. John tells him and then Paul replies "Lucky Paul".......

they never go outside in this version - John says he'll go but then thinks better of it. this means that John comes across as even more locked away than he does in the film.

the police bit is sort of done when Paul puts on a leather hat from the disguises and pretends to be a policeman come to question John, who John then talks back at. he also yells out of the window at some police below at one point.

Paul realises they're never actually going to Luigi's, so John lays the table for him as if they're at a restaurant together (including calling him "Lady McCartney" and "my love")

the bit with the fan is sort of recreated but instead it's John asking Paul whether he truly thinks Wings at the Speed of Sound is the number 1 record in America (which obvs changes it quite a lot)

Julian is brought up - they're toasting to various people/things (ending with "Dr. Winston O'Boogie and Paul Ramon") and Paul says "to Julian" and sort of confronts John about him and how he treated him

during the toasting Paul also mentions "putting hair on a seagull's chest" which John questions and then Paul says it's something his dad used to say

I thought the lift scene/roof scene wouldn't be happening... BUT THEN a lift descended from the ceiling ❤️ the magic of theatre

the kiss still happens and idk but I thought the vibe was a bit different from the film version - less jokey (and no lines after about brushing his teeth/is my name Brian)

Paul: I bought into it that you and me didn't get along well (paraphrasing the Stephen Colbert interview)

they hug at the end of the roof conversation (I was sat very close to this since the actors come in front of the stage to do it and they were both crying and it WAS ALL TOO MUCH 😭😭)

John gets them two guitars to practice with before they go out and they sit opposite each other in chairs and Paul says “I know which one to begin with” and John says “What?” and they lean forward and then the phone rings

when Paul leaves John he’s crying and it’s like okay rip out my heart I guess

the play ends with Paul on the phone to Linda and John on the phone to Yoko, at opposite sides of the stage, and they say “I love you” to their wives but also to each other and it’s ridiculous????

yeah then ‘Give Peace a Chance’ plays which is such a bizarre choice idek

anyway who knows if it's a good play or what the actual people there thought about it because obvs I can have no rational reaction to it but I'm so glad I went to see it because someone on the writing team is one of us I SEE YOU

[bbokarimenu]

Dancing in December

pairing: hwanghyunjin! x fem reader!

genre: fluff

warnings: none

an: Merry Christmas pookie’s 🎄💚, first hyunjin fluff

Masterlist

The snow fell softly outside our apartment, blanketing the city in a gentle hush. From where I stood in the living room, I could see the Christmas lights twinkling on the buildings across the street, reflecting off the window like stars. Inside, our little tree glowed warmly, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

Hyunjin had insisted on decorating it himself, and I’d let him, knowing how much joy he found in the process. But now, as I looked at the slightly uneven distribution of ornaments and the tinsel that seemed to cascade in chaotic loops, I couldn’t help but laugh softly. It was imperfectly perfect—just like him.

The soft sound of a piano filled the air, coming from the record player in the corner. I’d chosen a playlist of Christmas classics to set the mood while I prepared the hot chocolate.

“Hyunjin, are you almost ready?” I called out.

“In a minute!” his voice echoed from the bedroom.

I rolled my eyes affectionately and placed the mugs on the coffee table, arranging a plate of cookies alongside them. Tonight wasn’t anything extravagant—just the two of us, spending time together before his busy schedule resumed.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin emerged from the bedroom, and my breath caught for a moment. He wore a cozy red sweater that complemented his golden skin, and his hair fell in soft waves around his face.

“Sorry, I wanted to fix my hair,” he said sheepishly, tugging at his sleeves.

“You look perfect,” I said, smiling as I walked over to him.

His lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned down to kiss my forehead. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” I teased, grabbing his hand and leading him to the couch.

As we settled in, Hyunjin reached for one of the mugs and took a careful sip. He hummed in appreciation, his eyes lighting up.

“Did you add cinnamon to this?”

“I did. Thought it might be a nice touch.”

“It’s amazing,” he said, setting the mug down to grab a cookie.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the music and the crackling sound of the electric fireplace filling the room. I watched as Hyunjin’s gaze wandered to the tree, a soft, almost wistful expression crossing his face.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, resting my head on his shoulder.

He was quiet for a moment before replying. “Just how different this year feels. It’s been so hectic, but moments like this make it all worth it.”

I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. “You deserve this, Hyunjin. A moment to breathe, to just be yourself.”

He turned to look at me, his dark eyes filled with warmth. “I feel like myself the most when I’m with you.”

After finishing our drinks, Hyunjin suddenly stood and extended a hand toward me.

“Dance with me,” he said, a playful glint in his eye.

“Dance?” I repeated, laughing. “To Christmas music?”

“Why not?”

I hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. He led me to the center of the room, where the soft glow of the tree illuminated the space.

At first, I felt a little awkward, but Hyunjin’s infectious energy quickly melted away my self-consciousness. He twirled me around, laughing when I stumbled slightly, and soon we were moving together as if the music was written just for us.

“See? You’re a natural,” he said, spinning me again.

“You’re just saying that because you’re a professional,” I teased, grinning up at him.

“Maybe,” he said, pulling me close. “But it’s true.”

As the song ended, Hyunjin didn’t let go. Instead, he held me in his arms, swaying gently to the next track.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For making everything feel magical,” he replied, resting his forehead against mine.

My heart swelled, and I reached up to cup his face. “Hyunjin, you’re the one who brings the magic. I’m just here to remind you of it.”

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Then, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to my lips, his touch gentle and full of love.

Later, as we sat by the tree, Hyunjin pulled out a small box from behind his back.

“What’s this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just open it,” he said, his expression a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Inside the box was a delicate silver necklace with a tiny snowflake pendant.

“I saw it a few weeks ago and thought of you,” he said, his voice shy. “It reminded me of how you make everything feel beautiful and special, even the little things.”

I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked at him. “Hyunjin, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Here, let me,” he said, taking the necklace and fastening it around my neck.

As his fingers brushed against my skin, I felt a warmth spread through me, despite the chill outside.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, stories, and quiet moments by the fire. As midnight approached, I found myself leaning against Hyunjin, his arm wrapped around me as we watched the snow continue to fall outside.

“Next year,” he said suddenly, “let’s do this again. Same tree, same cookies, same everything.”

“Deal,” I said, smiling up at him.

And in that moment, with the world outside hushed and peaceful, I knew that no matter where life took us, as long as I had Hyunjin by my side, every Christmas would feel like magic.

[catastrophe-jones]

So idk if I've talked about this at all on here and I don't generally go back through my own posts but

If you have a chance to see The Outsiders, go do it. If you don't but you can get the OG cast recordings from like, idk, Apple Music or whatever, go do it. There's a song called 'Great Expectations' and I can't explain why it's grabbed me by the throat, but whatever

Brody Grant's voice is youthful and curious and anguished

and the part where the whole ensemble comes in for the refrain is just fucking magical. Listen to it with headphones on, or in a small room -- and turn it up as loud as you can stand it.

The song starts and is going along, noodling along, a little slow, a little sad, but then from "Darrel was on his way up in the world" and then "They say there's strength in numbers" is when you can start to hear a train on the tracks, that one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three of the bass sound, idk if it's piano, cello, what, but it's the driving sound of the train, getting closer until "Beyond these city walls" it's gaining volume and momentum until the pickups "I've got--" and then it's blowing by you, when the whole company is wailing "GREAT EXPECTATIONS, GREAT EXPECTATIONS " and then Brody goes up, higher, for another round --

And then it's past -- it's gone by, like a missed opportunity. It sounds. Like. A fucking. Train. A cast of people, and it sounds like a the warning blast of a train just before it rockets through an intersection. I cannot explain in words why it moves me. I've been trying. Just go listen to it. Maybe it'll move you, too.

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

"A Song to Gather Witches"

Taglist- @skittlebum @circe143 @quailbagutte

Masterlist

Summary: You've got your powers Agatha found a way to make them useful for your cons scamming gig, this time you've witnessed her do it draining witches seeing her purple -Chapter IV

===============================

The saloon was dimly lit, filled with the smell of smoke and aged wood, the murmur of voices and clinking glasses creating a lively atmosphere. Amidst the crowd, the young reader sat on a small stage, their fingers hovering over a dusty piano as they glanced around, gauging the room. They could feel the quiet hum of their mother’s magic, woven into the air like a whisper, guiding them toward their purpose tonight.

Just before leaving that morning, Agatha had leaned in, her eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of mischief. “Remember, my love,” she’d murmured, brushing a stray hair from their forehead. “Tonight, we need the song to travel—so that the right ears might hear it.”

And so, here they were, under the warm glow of candlelight, ready to sing the melody they’d written together: Witches’ Road. They knew the song by heart, every note and word crafted to call out, inviting magic-seekers toward its ancient lure. The piano keys felt cool beneath their fingers as they began to play, the haunting melody weaving through the saloon.

As their voice joined the music, soft and sure, conversations began to quiet. Heads turned, listening as the words drifted through the room.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood

Where all that's wrong is right and all that's bad is good

Through many miles of tricks and trials, we wander high and low

Tame your fears, a door appears, the time has come to go…"

Their voice was filled with a subtle magic, a lure that pulled at hearts and minds, drawing listeners into the mystery of the song. Eyes watched them with fascination, some captivated, others with an uneasy curiosity. As the song reached its chorus, a few women near the back exchanged glances, leaning in closer, their interest piqued.

"Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Follow me, my friend

To glory and the end…"

When the final note lingered, fading into the air, there was a soft hush in the room, broken only by scattered murmurs. The women from the back made their way forward, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

One of them, a tall woman with silver-streaked hair, gave the reader a long, assessing look. “That’s a peculiar tune for someone so young,” she said, her voice low but warm. “Where’d you learn a song like that?”

The reader met her gaze with innocent wonder, tilting their head as if the question surprised them. “It’s… something I came up with myself,” they said, keeping their tone light, humble, even a bit shy. “I’ve always been drawn to magic, to the mysteries and stories of witches. But it’s hard to learn when no one is willing to teach.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and the others exchanged whispers. “You’re… self-taught?” another asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

They nodded. “But it’s not enough. I’ve been looking for someone who could show me the true path—a real mentor.” The reader’s voice took on a slight note of longing, one that Agatha had coached them to use, and they cast their gaze down, as though a little shy showing a subtle colored little spark from her hands.

The silver-haired woman’s expression softened as she looked at the reader, her curiosity turning to something else—a hint of sympathy, perhaps. She glanced at her companions before giving a slight nod. “Come with us,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “If you’re serious about seeking the path, I believe we may be able to help.”

The reader smiled, a small, grateful smile, and slid down from the piano bench. They followed the woman and her companions out of the saloon and into the quiet night, their pulse quickening as they thought of Agatha, waiting in the forest.

As they walked, the reader could feel the air changing, a faint vibration in the earth beneath their feet. Magic was gathering, old and powerful, drawn by the song and by the reader’s carefully spoken words. They kept their face calm, nodding along as the women spoke in low voices about the “Witches’ Road” and its history, speculating about how such a young soul could know a song like that.

After a while, they reached a clearing, surrounded by tall trees whose branches stretched up toward the star-filled sky. The witches turned to face the reader, their expressions serious.

“We don’t usually take to strangers, especially ones as young as you,” the silver-haired woman said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But something about you is… different. There’s a power in you that feels older than your years.”

The reader met her gaze, giving a small, earnest nod. “Thank you for trusting me. I promise, I’m ready to learn.”

Just as the woman was about to reply, a soft rustling sounded from the shadows, and the air grew thick with tension. One by one, the women turned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The shadows deepened, twisting and stretching as if alive, and from the darkness, Agatha emerged, her silhouette outlined against the moonlight, her eyes gleaming with a fierce intelligence.

The witches took a step back, their expressions shifting from curiosity to alarm.

“You’re… you’re her mother?” one of them whispered, looking at Agatha with dawning recognition.

Agatha smiled, a calm, knowing smile, and nodded. “Indeed. And you were kind enough to keep my little one company tonight.” Her voice was smooth, filled with a dark charm that held them in place, even as they sensed the danger.

The silver-haired woman’s expression hardened, realizing the trap too late. “This was a setup,” she hissed, her voice low with anger.

Agatha tilted her head, her gaze unyielding. “I never said it wasn’t.”

Without another word, she raised her hand, and a dark mist coiled around her fingers, crackling with a subtle, sinister power. The witches tried to resist, casting protective spells and trying to break free, but Agatha’s magic was stronger—each spell they cast was met with a swift, effortless counter. She moved gracefully, almost as though she were dancing, drawing power from them, siphoning their magic as they struggled.

The reader watched, both awed and unnerved. They knew what their mother was capable of, but witnessing her in action, surrounded by these powerful witches who had no chance against her, was something different entirely.

As the last of the coven fell to the ground, drained and silent, Agatha turned to them, her eyes softening as she approached. She brushed a strand of hair from their face, her expression filled with warmth and pride.

“You did perfectly, my love,” she murmured, her voice a gentle contrast to the fierce power they had just witnessed. “Just as I knew you would.”

They looked up at her, a small, relieved smile breaking through. “It worked,” they whispered, the weight of the night’s events settling over them. “They really believed I needed their help.”

Agatha smiled, pride shining in her eyes. “That’s because you have the heart of a true witch—clever, resourceful, and far stronger than most would ever guess. You’re learning fast.”

But even as her words brought comfort, a pang of guilt stirred in the reader’s heart. “Mama… I didn’t know it would feel like this.” They looked at the fallen witches, an uncertain shadow crossing their face. “What if they… what if they didn’t deserve it?”

Agatha knelt down, her expression softening as she took their hands in hers. “Listen to me, my love. Those who would harm us, or stand in the way of what we need, they give us no choice. This is the path we walk, and it’s a path not everyone can understand.”

The reader nodded, letting her words sink in, though the weight still lingered.

Seeing their unease, Agatha cupped their cheek, a tender smile playing on her lips. “You have a compassionate heart, my dear one, and that is a gift. But there are times we must be strong and unyielding to protect what’s ours.” She stroked their cheek. “Trust in your strength, and trust that you were right to call them to us. You did nothing wrong.”

With Agatha’s reassurances, the reader felt a calm settle over them, a reminder of their purpose and the bond they shared with her. They walked together back through the forest, the night quiet around them, the stars gleaming overhead. As they walked, Agatha began to hum the familiar melody, and the reader joined her, their voices mingling softly as they sang together.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood..."

Their voices blended, filling the night air with the haunting, beautiful song, a mother and child bound by love, secrets, and a strength that would see them through any trial ahead.

===============================

A/n: Comment?,👀😩🖐🏻, I'm bored and lacking motivation for this

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Four - Encore

You are rehearsing at the piano when the manager comes over eagerly. He's waving something around in his hand. You choose to keep your focus on your piano, flooding the empty theater with beautiful music. 

Amelie was sitting close by listening to you, but when Jack came in, he focus shifted to him.

Jack stops abruptly next to you waving an envelope in your face. You stop playing to look at it and then look up at him. “What is it?”

“A donation!” He exclaims.

“A donation?” Amelie asks.

Jack nods. “From your sponsor. He wrote a letter stating he will make a donation to the theater as long as you keep performing here.”

You look at the envelope with curiosity. “He did?”

Jack nods again. “Yes. Isn't this wonderful? Our little theater could thrive with such a wealthy man behind it. You, my dear, are a gift.”

A gift.

That's what Lestat had said he had given you. A gift from him. He was going to make sure you could play your music freely without concern of others. Simply because he enjoyed your music.

“How generous of him,” Amelie comments.

“Yes. Very,” you say softly. The very idea of having Lestat looking out for you made your heart race. It was strange how much of an affect one man could have over you over something as simple as music.

“My dear, this is a blessing. Never give up on your music.” Jack beams down at you. His words would be flattering if they had been from someone else.

Jack leaves you alone at your piano. Amelie moves to sit next to you on the bench. “This Lestat… are you two…?” She probes.

“No!” You reply quickly. “Nothing like that.”

Amelie chuckles and presses a couple of keys on the piano. She makes a small little tune and then sighs. “I wish someone would sponsor me for my dancing.”

“Someone should! You're a natural dancer. It's in your blood,” you smile. Amelie looks pleased with your compliments.

“I still think it's romantic. A handsome stranger supporting you for your talent.” She plucks at hwr skirt mindlessy.

“Romantic… It's not like that. He just appreciates good music.”

Amelie rolls her eyes at you, but she doesn't say anything. Still, you can tell what she's thinking just by the expression on her face. However, you don't say anything either.

As you're leaving the theater later they evening, you are cornered by Noah who had been lingering about outside the back door. You could already tell he had been waiting for you because as soon as you come outside he's right beside you.

“So, your sponsor is sending donations to the theater. How nice of him,” Noah says dryly. “You know, you should reconsider our duet.”

“I don't think so,” you say.

“Listen, we could be good together. My voice, your music. It could be magic.” He grins, but it's not a friendly grin.

“Noah, for the last time, no.”

He stops you from walking by grabbing at your elbow. It's not tight enough you can't shake him off, but it's forceful enough to get you to stop.

“I don't like being told no.”

You glare at him. “Well, there's a first time for everything. No.”

“You're making a big mistake,” he tells you.

“I don't think so. If you try a stunt like the other night again, I will have you removed from the theater. Jack can't afford to lose me.”

Noah laughs. “Oh, the kitten has claws.”

You yank your arm away from him. “I have more than claws.”

You storm off onto the street and make your way home. Noah is left in the alley watching you walk away. Anger burns through his body.

As you reach your apartment you're surprised to find Lestat waiting for you outside. You slow down as he approaches you. There's an expression in his eyes that makes you feel like he's reading you.

“What happened, Chéri?”

All tension leaves your body as soon as he's beside you. For whatever reason being around Lestat makes you calm.

“Just Noah riling me up again,” you sigh.

“What did the fool want now?” Lestat asks, a bite to his tone.

“Your donation to the theater has stirred everyone up. I think Noah is jealous he isn't getting any attention.”

“He's a terrible singer anyway.”

You laugh. Lestat's face lights up at the sound. Your laugh was perhaps his favourite sound. Your music coming second.

“Do not let the petty people stand in the way of your music. Your talent is far more precious than anything he could ever say.” Lestat reaches out and caresses your chin gently with his finger. His nail is sharp, but merely tickles your skin.

“I am lucky to have found you,” you say, looking at him with gentle eyes.

“It is I who found you. I am the lucky one,” he smiles.

There's a moment where you can't bring yourself to look away from him. The temptation to step closer and reach out was great, but it is Lestat who breaks the spell and steps away from you. He moves out of reach, the distance seeming too far for your liking. You don't dare move though.

“Get some rest. I shall see you on Friday.”

You don't even get a chance to ask why he was waiting for you outside your apartment. Lestat leaves quickly, gone in the blink of an eye. You don't even question it. You're too occupied thinking about his eyes.

Friday comes around and you're fixing your hair up for your performance. Amelie had left your side moments ago to prepare for her performance. She had been working on a new routine which she was really proud of.

You look up at the sound of knocking on your door and call for them to enter. It's Noah. You feel yourself sigh internally. He leans agaiant your doorframe allowing you to get a good look at his suit. He obviously thinks he looks amazing, but all you can think about it how the colour is wrong for his complexion and that it looks too tight in some places.

“What do you want?” You ask.

“I am here to tell you that tonight is going to be our night. I can feel it.” He grins wide.

“What do you mean?”

“Tonight we will become stars!”

You do not like his behaviour. There's something very wrong with him. You can feel it.

“What are you getting at?” You ask him slowly, calmly.

Noah winks at you. You instantly feel sick.

“Wait and see, darling. Me and you, we're going shine.”

Noah leaves, your door closing behind him. You're left sitting there wondering what all that was about. What is he going to do? What has he done?

You feel uncomfortable.

You watch Amelie come off stage after her performance. She was amazing. Her new routine was exciting and thrilling. She had been working hard on the story telling aspect of her routines and it had really paid off. Amelie hugged you as she exited the stage and then watched you go on after your piano had been set up.

Applause filled the room as you walked across the stage. You ignored it. The only thing you paid attention to was the handsome blond man in his box.

He smiled at you.

You smiled back.

You take your seat at the piano bench and take a deep breath. The only thought running through your head was your hope of Lestat enjoying your music once again. 

You begin to play. Music fills the room. The audience fall quiet as you let your magic work. They hang onto every note and feel themselves drift away to wherever your music takes them.

In his box, Lestat leans forward slightly. his eyes are focused on you. Your music touches his heart. Hearing you play the way you did was a blessing to him.

He closed his eyes just for a moment. Your melody sunk into his bones. He could almost feel every note pass through him. You had him hook, line, and sinker.

Then the magic broke.

Noah's voice cut through the air. Lestat opened his eyes to see the insulting man standing amongst the aisle of seats belting out his song. Lestat clutched the balcony in anger.

Did this fool not understand?

He could still hear your piano, but with one look at you he knew you wanted nothing more than to get up and leave.

Do it.

You swore you heard a voice just now.

Leave.

Your eyes shift up to where Lestat was sitting. He was looking at you.

Don't play for this fool.

Noah could see Lestat looking at you. He decided to sing a little bit louder. Lestat did not turn his gaze away from you.

The music stopped.

You would not play for Noah. You refused. That voice agreed. You got up from your piano and fled from the stage. You ran all the way down to your dressing room to hide.

Lestat turned to Noah who was still signing for a very confused audience. Lestat had had enough. He got up and fled from his box.

Noah stopped singing and took a dramatic bow. The audience didn't know if they should clap or not, so only a few gave a slow applause.

Noah took his leave.

You slumped down at your dressing table, head in your arms. What even happened? You were playing your music. Noah came to ruin it once again.

That voice.

It sounded like Lestat was in your head. But how can that be?

Your dressing room door swings open and Noah storms in. You're startled by his sudden entrance. He is quick to pull you into his arms and dance around the room with you. You're able to push him off you, putting some distance between you and him.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask angrily.

“Nothing is wrong with me. I just want the most talented pianist in New Orleans to play while I sing. Is that a crime?” 

“Well, this pianist doesn't want to play for you!” You yell.

“You have a sponsor and everything!” Noah waves his hands around frantically. “It's not fair! I have been singing for the last 10 years of my life! I have a great voice. Why shouldn't the two most talented people here join as one and make magic together?!”

“You're scaring me…”

He circles around the room, blocking off your exit.

“I'm scaring you?” He laughs. “That's rich. Do you know who you should be afraid of? Your sponsor. That man isn't right… There's something weird about him.”

“Please leave,” you beg of him.

He doesn't go.

Noah takes a few steps closer to you. “Let me look after you. Let me be the angel who sings to your melody. We can leave this crappy town and make the world our stage. You're far too good for a place like this.” 

“Noah, I won't ask again.” You back up as much as you can, but you're out of space.

Before Noah can get too close he's pulled back violently from you. You can only gasp in shock at the sight of him on the ground. Lestat stands over him seething with anger.

“Lestat?” You call softly.

He doesn't look at you. He stares down at Noah like a predator looking at it's prey. You're afraid.

“This pathetic little man thinks he owns the stage, but he is wrong. When you play your music the stage belongs to you. No other. I do not take kindly to those who interfere.” Lestat pulls Noah up by the lapels of his jacket and holds him upright. Noah stuggles agaiant him, but to no avail.

“What are you going to do to me?” Noah asks, freaking out.

“Teach you a lesson.”

In the blink of an eye Lestat is gone. As is Noah. You startled by what you had just witnessed. However, the panic sets in and the need to find them takes over. You run as fast as your legs will carry you.

You're not entirely sure where Lestat has taken Noah, but you take a guess by going to his house. It’s the only place you can think of. Judging by the sounds from inside, you were right. You open the gates and hurry inside.

“Get off me!” You hear Noah yell.

You enter the house in a hurry. “Lestat?”

“Don't come any closer, chéri.” You hear him call from inside the house.

“Lestat, what are you doing? Where's Noah?”

“Help me!” Noah cries out.

“You care about this pathetic creature?” Lestat asks.

“Not really, but I don't want anyone to get hurt…” You call out.

“I will not stand for him ruining you.”

You feel a tug at your heart. There is something in Lestat's voice that had you feeling deeply. He sounded angry but also sad.

“What are you going to do?” You ask.

A moment of silence fills the house. All you can hear is Noah whimpering in the next room.

“I'm going to rid us of this vermin.”

“Lestat?”

In the next moment all you can hear is a chocking sound and then a thud. You can't hear Noah calling for help any more. You decide to face the music and make your way into the next room.

What you saw, you did not ever expect to see.

Noah was propped up on the couch and Lestat was next to him, latched onto his neck. You screamed and covered your mouth as you took in the sight.

Lestat looked up at you. Blood stained his lips, his eyes were wide, but he remained cool and collected.

You ran.

It’s all you could think to do. You ran right out of there and down the street. People turned to look but you didn't care. You needed to get away from that place. Home was the only place you could go. You wouldn't be able to face anyone at the theater.

Noah is dead.

You saw it with your own eyes. Lestat killed him and… and…

No, you had to have hallucinated that last part. Your mind was playing tricks on you.

Vampires weren't real.

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