#play us a song you’re the piano man

[salmonsmoker]

Artstyle challenge ft. Klavier!

[katiascraft]

“am I too much for you? maybe I’m too much for everyone” | CL16

parings: Charles Leclerc x insecure!reader

summary: you feel insecure and you’re struggling but Charles makes sure you know how important you are to the world (specially his world).

now playing: “If I weren’t me” by Katherine Li

warnings: not English native speaker could there be errors. None proofread. Talk about sadness and destructive inner talk. Insecure reader. Readers pov’s.

words: +1,5k words.

a/n: heyyyy I am back!!! I disappeared for a year 💀 consistency it’s not my thing I guess. I’m finally finishing university this year!! So I guess I’ll have more time to write. Hope you like it! First on Charles. New obsession: F1 drivers. Get ready I got plenty more on my plans :p. Remember to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3

MASTERLIST

The piano tiles made the sound of the soundtrack of my sadness in this moment. My fingers touched them softly like they were fragile - like me.

Today was a nightmare from the start. Since I woke up I had a knot in my stomach that became bigger and bigger as the time passed through my routine. Sometimes itʼs really hard for me to do daily tasks such as cleaning or even eating. And it was harder if I need to go to events or meetings.

I have episodes of deep sadness Iʼve been treating on therapy. Sometimes I just canʼt control it. Today was one of those days where black and grey took over everything I felt and did. One way I found by being suggested by my therapist was writing down every thought of pain to find kind of a relief. Today itʼs really hard. Iʼm struggling really hard.

Iʼve been alone the whole day. Charles had to go to the Ferrari factory and do his driver tasks as usual. When I woke up he was gone. And maybe that contributed even more to my desperate and pathetic situation. Though I shouldnʼt talk about it like that and be more gentle with myself. It always felt to me negativity has always been my best friend and worst enemy at the same time.

Playing piano helped me so much. Write a song about my pain. Try to give a little light to all of this mess I find myself emerged in. Itʼs really hard for me to open up and seek help when I need it. Specially when it comes to Charles. I donʼt wanna be a burden to him. And I donʼt wanna stress him out with all of my dark side. I always try to brush it off when heʼs around. Most times I just pretend Iʼm happy and everything itʼs alright. As if I wasnʼt feeling too much for him. Or too less. Like Iʼm not worth of his love. Of his attention. Of his smiles. Of everything he did for me.

The fact that Charles asked me out had me shocked. Iʼve never felt like I could compete with all the models and influencers and singers and every really beautiful girl in this world. Iʼve never felt beautiful nor attractive. Yes Iʼm pretty good making jokes. And I talk too much. But Iʼve always felt I cringed people out. Dating people wasnʼt a thing I was really good at. Actually I sucked. And I think I still do. Always overthinking and second guessing every move. Every promise. Everything.

Charles was so sweet to me. He said “youʼre beautiful. Iʼm sure people tell you all the time. But you really areˮ. I couldnʼt help but get really nervous and blush. The most beautiful man Iʼve ever seen was talking to me and saying all of that. I blinked a couple of times. My smile huge. I just laughed softly trying to brush it off.

Since then we became a team. Inseparable. Charles became my best friend. My rock. I donʼt know what I ever did to deserve his love. The way he loved me was so gentle. So caring and loving. At first was hard because his love language was physical touch and that was something I wasnʼt used to. But little by little I got used to and felt amazing. Iʼve never felt so comfortable with anyone but him.

I hate my body. I feel ashamed of my personality. Most times I feel so dumb. So stupid.

I didnʼt realized I was already crying when I felt my tears dropping in my hands on the piano. I didnʼt realized I kept playing in auto-mode. When I was conscious again I started crying badly. I started shaking. I felt so bad. So guilty for even feeling this way. I didnʼt realized Charles have arrived home when I felt his deep voice from behind.

“Baby... whatʼs wrong? Youʼve been crying for a whileˮ I heard his voice and that sent shivers down my spine. I try to hold it together because I feel so embarrassed heʼs seeing me like this.

He sat next to me and hugged me. I hid my face on his neck feeling contempt. Thing is I started crying worse. I couldnʼt control it once it took on me.

“Itʼs okay baby. Itʼs okay.ˮ He whispered on my head while he stroke my hair and my arm pulling me closer. I thanked him mentally for this. I never thought I needed it so much.

Took a while until I calmed myself in his body. I part from him slowly and whipped my face with my hands. After I did he did the same. He whipped my tears so gently. He did the same looking me with bright eyes. Worry was all over his face. I licked my lips. “Iʼm sorry.ˮ I said quietly almost a whisper.

He denided with his head taking my head into his hands and stroked it softly.

“donʼt be sorry baby. Iʼm worried. Whatʼs wrong? Iʼm sorry I wasnʼt home to be with you. Why didnʼt you called me?ˮ I could feel the worry in his voice deep and cracking.

“I didnʼt want to bother to be honest. Itʼs one of those days. A really hard dayˮ my tears wanted to go out again but I holded them.

I saw his eyes turned into a sad look. He leaned on me and kissed my cheek to hugged me strongly in his arms afterwards. I buried my head in his shoulder. His smell calmed me down. I holded him pretty close to me. Strongly as him. I didnʼt want to let go.

“do you wanna talk about what you are feeling love?ˮ He whispered softly. I swallowed hard and pulled away from his so I could look into his beautiful eyes. I loved his eyes. So bright so blue sometimes. To me they felt like staring at the ocean. I stroked his face gently. He grabbed my legs on the little couch in front of the piano it our living room.

“This is one of those days where I donʼt feel enough or maybe too much to handle... all of this darkness in me that sometimes I just canʼt control it. You deserve someone confident and happy just like youˮ I told him softly and honestly. And it felt good to take it out of me for finally. I wanted to cry again but I was making my best efforts to keep it together.

“Cher... you are more than enough for me. You are the most beautiful soul Iʼve ever met. The most beautiful woman Iʼve ever seen. You are the sweetest most caring and fun person. Always there for people. You have the brightest personality. Every time you enter a room you shine. Everyone smiles. To me youʼre happiness though I know that isnʼt the whole you. Youʼre human baby. You are allowed to feel. And to not be okay. And to be okay too. You are not a burden for me. Youʼre my best friend. Mon amour. My future wife. The one whoʼs always there for me. My shoulder to cry on. The one with the greatest jokes. The life of every party I assist. You give a meaning to my life. A reason to live. You are a great daughter. The best friend someone could ask for. The greatest sister. You are a light for every single person that knows you y/n. Donʼt ever feel that you are too much to handle. And I really wanna go and kill the people who made you ever feel you were, I sware. You are amazing baby.ˮ While he was talking you couldnʼt hold it together. You just started crying. He let you do it while he whipped your tears lovingly. He seeing you like this broke his heart. You didnʼt deserve to feel like this. And he wished he could take away all of your pain. That you could see yourself the way he sees you. And feel how happy and enamoured you made him feel. “You can talk to me every time you need itˮ he continued. “you can trust me and we can figure it out together. You donʼt have to go through it alone. Okay? I love you with everything I am y/n. If I could I would take all of this pain away and just make you feel how I feel about you. I promise to me youʼre even better than Carlosˮ he said lastly jokingly making me laugh through my crying.

Now he had a huge smile on his face knowing he could make you feel better. I gave him a peck on his lips as a thank you and as an I love you.

“I donʼt know what I would do without you Charles...ˮ I said sincerely and full of love in between the lines. He gave another kiss back but now it was deeper in feelings. We kissed for a while and it felt that as the kiss continued my pain was going away feeling better every second. After the kissed I hugged him tightly. He gave kisses to my neck making me giggle a little. “I love you Charlie. Youʼre my angelˮ I whispered on his shoulder and he tightened the hug in response.

“And you are mine chérie“ he said burying his face on my shoulder.

——————————————————————————————

Charlie won COTA 🥹.

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have ideas my inbox is open for requests!

[ghouldump]

Just read your Armand fic and it was SO good, I was wondering if we could get a prequel or separate piece on vamp reader in the theatre?

Masquerade | Lestat x Reader

ෆ even with your horrific background, he fell deeply for your heart.

thank you, i enjoyed this very much. the fact that this is a month old is embarrassing. someone else requested loustat + Claudia w/ vamp reader and theater but i accidentally deleted it. also in this Lestat hasn't had Akasha’s blood yet.

“Mr. De Lioncourt, you’re on in five,” the stage director said nervously, peaking into the dressing room.

Staring into the mirror, he couldn’t stop the heavy weight on his lifeless core. Perhaps it was due to the homage he had been contemplating.

Fixing his soft hair, he stood, adjusting the half-buttoned top. Taking large steps, his walk emitted confidence, his head held high, in his mind, a recessed warfare.

The piercing screaming became louder as he moved closer to the stage. After months of traveling and backlash from other vampires, as well as the media, he was finally at his last show of the world tour.

“Lestat! I love you,” he could hear his fans screaming.

Smirking, he chuckled, while his thoughts drifted to the ancient days, enjoying the sight of mortals marveling at his presence. In Paris, the city adored him with a love so great, while also managing to shred his heart into pieces. Stopping next to the backstage staff, one of them held the box, protecting the precious relic of his. Opening the lock, he carefully placed the delicate mask on his face.

Holding his head elevated, he closed his eyes, it all seemed like only a little while ago when he met the one who would make him fall deeply in love, through music.

“Y/n, do you have any new songs written? We will be having a special guest joining us tomorrow,” Armand asked, as you slowly met his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve made a few ideas,” you nodded, timidly.

“May I see them?” He asked you, smiling as you hopped out of your seat, handing him the papers with haste.

“Thank you, my love,” he told you, leaning to place a soft kiss onto your lips.

“You’re welcome,” you nodded.

“The others will be hunting later, you are free to join them,” he said, reaching for your veil, and covering your face, before walking away.

Once Armand was out of sight, you slowly sat back down, your fingertips lightly brushing against the piano keys. Humming the melody, you smiled, knowing he would be satisfied with the song that went beautifully in his play.

He was a few decades away from being two centuries old when you first met. In a sideshow, you were the most popular act of the next night. The circus was traveling throughout Europe when they finally arrived in Paris. ‘Come and see the Devil’s Mark’, they called out, catching the interest of people passing. Inside the large tint, they'd gasp at the sight, confused by the sight.

“Why does she have that on her head?”

“She was kissed by the devil himself, and it left her with the face of a monster, Y/n, entertain your guest,” hearing the sound of the whip cracking, your fingers moved on their own, against the stringed instrument.

A few left out of boredom, some through peanuts at you, while others through coins. You were seen as nothing more than a show, no more than the animals kept. Although you knew better than to act against them, this place, these people, they were all you'd ever known.

Suddenly, a scream broke out, filled with agony, others rushed out, wanting to either get away or find out what was happening. You could see the shadow of people, running further away, some of them getting tackled, screeching for help. When the man came into the tint, your trainer, backed away, turning to run, before the man quickly killed him.

Your eyes widened, seeing the man move quicker than the blink of an eye. Lifting his head, he looked your way, and instantly, he was in front of the cage, tearing the door off. Staring at him, you watched his milky white teeth, dark red blood covering his mouth, and icy blue eyes.

Slowly moving to the ground, he tilted his head at you, before ripping the sack from your head. Immediately, you turned your face, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him.

“This face is something else,” he laughed. Moving his hand, covering the left side of your face, his grin widened.

“You aren't so bad on the eyes, as long as this side is covered, maybe I should keep you, how old are you?” he asked, you struggled to understand him, through his thick broken English.

“18”

“Beautiful and you want to die?” he smiled, listening to your thoughts, the entire time you had been bracing yourself, waiting for the final blow to take you out of this life and into the next.

“Yes,” you admitted. Stiffening as he caressed your cheek with his glass-like nail.

“Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate this life gain anew, your greatness will make up for the misery this face has brought you,” he told you before his fangs sank into your neck. Draining every ounce, you could hear your heartbeat escaping your body, as you weakened. Pulling away, he cut his wrist, pressing it against your mouth for you to drink.

“Do you have a name, child?” he asked you, as he pulled his arm away.

“Y/n,” you mumbled, lying on the ground, your stomach was beginning to churn.

“My name is Nicolas, and I am your maker,” he smiled at you, as you began groaning.

“Nicolas, is there a reason you're hunting in territory that isn't yours?” hearing the voice, he turned around, facing the brown man, or boy, he couldn't tell from the youthful face.

“What are you talking about?” Nicolas asked, frowning.

“My coven resides here and you have been wreaking havoc, never once making your presence known, it is punishable by death,” the man explained, meanwhile, you began puking up your insides.

“My apologies, I could sense others nearby, but it didn't cross my mind that it could be a coven-

“You are careless, to kill by the hundreds out in the open and thoughtlessly create a fledgling, you are unworthy of the gift, and a threat,” he said, fire appearing in his hand, before Nicolas was set ablaze.

Dropping to his knees, you watched as he turned into ash before he could completely hit the ground. Wiping the vomit from your mouth, your maker, whoever he was, was now gone. Armand’s gaze went to you, and lifting from the ground, he floated to you.

While his face held no emotion, he thought of himself, and his past, feeling a bit of compassion for you.

“Would you like to join our coven?” he asked you. Nodding, you didn't know what you had become, whatever Nicolas was, but you knew you didn't want the same fate from this man.

“Then come along, we will find a place for you in the theater,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows as you grabbed the sack, placing it onto your head. Slowly standing, you felt like a new creation, your head lowered under the man’s gaze.

“You will feel very hungry, but I will show you how to hunt adequately, what is your name?” he asked.

“Y/n,” you whispered.

“I am Armand, come now, the others are waiting,” he said, turning as you attempted to keep up with his steps.

Armand was not only the coven’s leader, but the director of a popular theater. Humans came nearly every night to them all, everyone having specific roles. The others weren't the nicest to you, but they also weren't mean. You stayed to yourself, and they let you be.

It wasn't until one night, the theater was closed, and you were supposed to be cleaning, everyone had left for hunting. Cleaning each seat, you scrubbed any dried food under the chairs. Humming lowly, you couldn't get a certain tune from an earlier play from your mind. Making up your own lyrics, you continued humming the melody. Standing from your knees, you jumped, seeing Armand standing on the stage.

“That was you singing?” he asked, surprised.

“I-I’m sorry,” you cowered.

“I never asked, why you wear this?” he motioned at the sack.

“I was born different, no real reason, my old trainer, Agnes, said I was probably kissed by the devil,” you said.

“May I see your face?”

“I don't kn-

“Please?” he asked. It was the first time I heard the word, someone saying it to you or even coming from Armand’s mouth.

Sighing, you pulled it off, shutting your eyes, bracing for the nefarious critiques. However, he didn't say anything, his hand softly holding your jaw. The entire left side of your face was in short observations, scarily scarred. Briefly after birth, you had been in a terrible incident, leaving the left side of your face comparable to a healed fourth-degree burn.

“This isn't as horrible as you make it out to be, and to be wearing this old sack on your head,” he told you, grinning.

“I don't want to scare anyone,” you told him.

“I think that is scarier than your face, you obviously didn't hear it enough, but you are beautiful with an angelic voice, would you like to be in the play?” he asked.

“I don't feel comfortable-

“If we found a way around that, would you be willing?” he asked, smiling as you, hesitantly nodded.

And so, he stuck to his word, surprising you with your very own custom masquerade mask. Fitting perfectly against the side of your face, while leaving the other side free. You felt more confident with the mask, as it hid that side of you. Soon after, Armand introduced the veil to you, along with the equally theatrical dress.

His reasoning, he said he would make you the star of the stage, without anyone pointing out the mask or having questions about your face underneath. You went along with his words, trusting him, and onward with practicing the lines.

The show was a captivating success, with roses being thrown at you, along with whistles and claps. Bowing, you thanked everyone, waving your gloved hands. Later that night, when you were helping clean up, Armand scared you.

Sneaking up on you, he congratulated you, while you blushed, your face burning profusely. Praising his judgment, you thanked him, before he kissed you. Ending your night in Armand’s coffin wasn't a part of your plans, but it seemed right.

Your relationship, despite blossoming, was unconventional. You acknowledged it, overhearing a few coven members gossip about you. In your eyes, Armand became your idol, he taught you new abilities, helped learn new instruments, and provided intimacy. You eventually recognized that he wasn't as serious about you, as you were about him, but rather possessive.

He forbade you to form any other companionships, persuading you to wear your stage costume continuously. While a piece of you was hurt by these actions, you had no experience before him, and were sure you would have none after, so naturally you accepted his terms.

Now over a century since then, you remained at Armand’s side, being the lead vocalist in nearly all the the plays. If only you knew, how much things would change in a matter of months.

Standing from the piano, you went to your coffin, the others would be returning soon, and the sun would be rising. You were interested in seeing the special guest Armand spoke of, but you would have to wait and see.

“What are you doing? Use your fucking brain?” you could hear Armand yelling at the coven members. They were setting up the stage, as he stood in front of the chairs.

You sat alone in a booth, far off, a small xylophone in your lap. Tapping each key, you hummed the tune of your song. Opening your mouth, you began to sing lowly, your eyes widening as you felt a gust of wind behind you.

“Is this an original piece? It sounds lovely,” the voice said, making you turn around, revealing the handsome man. Lofty, blonde, sharp jawline, full lips, you had never seen him before.

“I-yes,” you said, moving your eyes to floor, as he squinted trying to catch a glimpse of your face.

“Lestat,” Armand called out, turning to face the two of you.

“I told you I’d come,” The man named Lestat said, a smirk in place, as he bowed.

“And you are?” he asked you.

“Busy, Y/n, go read over your lines,” Armand said, watching as you nodded, appearing in front of him, accepting the papers from his hand, and disappearing into his office.

“Keeping her to yourself?” Lestat asked, tilting his head.

“Y/n is a century older than you, she isn't interested in a newborn like yourself,” Armand grinned at him.

“But you are,” he said, making the older vampire roll his eyes, walking to continue making preparations.

You could feel the eyes of Lestat on you, as it was time for you to come from Armand’s office. You never had actual words for the play, rather allowing your singing to move the audience. The others complained and muttered that it was Armand’s way of not forcing you into reciting with everyone.

Sitting on the prop, you looked towards Armand, as the curtains opened. Singing to him, for the people, is how you always looked at it. He smirked in pride, satisfied with how everything played out. Your role, the grim reaper, serenading your victims as they pleaded with the audience to save them. Finally, death came to collect, the coven members attacked their prey, while the crowd cheered loudly for you.

Bowing your head, you waved at everyone, as the curtain closed. The show was now over, and it was time to hunt. You didn't exactly hunt with the coven, despite everyone sticking together like a pack. Even after over a hundred years, you didn't feel confident to lift your veil around anyone, except your targets. Armand was a bit lenient, letting you stray away from the others.

Watching the young man leave the bar, you followed him, leaving a bit of distance between the two of you. He was beautiful, doll-like, with youthful features on his glowy skin. The further he walked, the more empty the area became. Slowly lifting your veil, as he approached a nearby alley, you attacked, dragging him into the darkness. As his body went limp, the flames appeared in your hand, before you burned his body.

“Did Armand teach you how to do that? Is he your maker?” you heard as you covered your face, turning to face Lestat.

“Yes and No,” you said, going to past him, when he blocked your way.

“Why do you cover your face? Like…a bride,” he smirked.

“Armand will be expecting me back”

“With a voice as beautiful as yours, you shouldn't hide your face, everyone should see the countenance behind the magnificent voice-

“Y/n,” Armand stood behind Lestat, slowly walking around him.

“Oh, I think he's jealous Y/n, he wants to keep you locked away for himself,” Lestat told you, as you approached Armand.

“Meet with the others, straight to your coffins,” he instructed, reaching for your cheek. Nodding, you kept your head down, leaving as quickly as possible.

As you closed your coffin, comfortable, mask off, you smiled, thinking of Lestat. He was carefree, he didn't care about rules, and wasn't scared of anyone, or anything. If only you could be like him, maybe one day.

“Everyone get in your positions,” Sam ordered, as everyone ran around.

Armand was away for business, meaning you had the night off until he returned. You never complained, accepting the rare days, and watching the plays from Armand’s booth. Sitting comfortably, you smiled as the lights dimmed.

“Hello, ma chérie,” you heard, a hand pressing against the veil to stop you from gasping.

“You frightened me,” you mumbled.

“Shall we go out for a walk?”

“I'm watching the play,” you whispered.

“The same play that ends the same way every single night, it won't do you any harm to miss one,” he said, sounding persuasive before you took his hand, allowing him to take you away.

“Now that we're alone, will you tell me why you wear this veil?” Lestat asked as he walked in the direction of the park, your hand still in his own.

“If you knew the reason, then you wouldn't be so nice to me,” you told him.

“How will I know, until I see,” he said.

“You have no reason to see it,” you put your head down, taking your hand back, and speed-walking away.

“I yearn to see the face behind the beautiful voice?” he smirked, as he was instantly in front of you.

“Armand said you are a newborn, when were you turned?” you asked him.

“A year or two ago, I lose count,” he shrugged.

“You sing too? Why not travel outside of France?” you asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing”

“I am a part of a coven, I couldn't just up and leave” you shook your head.

“Armand wouldn't approve”

“Is Armand your maker?”

“…No, but he is dear to me”

“But are you to him? I've heard a few things about your…situation, you're not even his companion, but he keeps you to himself, why?”

“He has had compassion for me”

“And so you feel you owe him everything?”

“I do”

“Even denying yourself more, more than simply being his doll, that he can play with and toss the side whenever he wishes,” he said, as he moved closer to you, his body centimeters from pressing against your own.

“Just a peak, ma chérie, I won’t utter a word after,” he said, as you slowly stared at him, unmoving as he lifted the veil.

He gazed at the mask but didn't say anything, as his cool fingers touched your cheek.

“You exceeded my expectations,” he said, as he took in your facial features, your skin texture, marks, moles, freckles.

“No need to lie,” you said, a bit harsher than you intended.

“I have seen men and women of all kinds, and I have no reason to lie when I say, you are beautiful,” he said, as he grabbed your hand, pulling you back.

“I need to get back to the others, it is best that we stay away from each other,” you told him, turning back to the theater.

“I can't promise I will be as obedient to your leader's commands,” he said, watching as you walked away.

Lestat kept his distance for a while until you received the sudden news he'd be joining you in a play. It was a renowned success, something the theatre hadn't experienced in years, bringing humans to tears at the heavenly duet, before punishing your victim of the night.

He became a recurring guest, who refused the idea of joining the coven. Everyone was surprised Santiago wasn't jealous of him, but he admired him too much to be bothered by him taking the position of leading actor.

You steered clear of him, outside of your performances, to avoid upsetting Armand. Yes, he was jealous, and no, you may not have been companions, but you didn't blame him. He was extremely traumatized from his past and for that became controlling and untrusting to most, but once you gained his trust - he was a godsend, and you didn't want to ruin that for a newborn vampire you'd just met.

Then it happened, after the usual set, you found yourself sitting on the roof, watching as the others left to hunt. Holding the small music box, you humming the melody, your heart aching. You'd overheard a few members gossiping about you, questioning your secretive nature.

Masquerade, Paper faces on parade

Masquerade, Hide your face so the world will never find you

Masquer-

“You don't think sitting up here alone is a bit gloomy,” Lestat spoke.

“It will sound different once it is performed,” you mumbled.

“Then I hope you don't mind me joining, perhaps I can add my touch,” he said, moving to sit next to you before you could answer.

“Lestat, Armand won't be pleased,” you shook your head.

“It is ridiculous how much you care for his feelings, considering he isn't your companion”

“He has been more than generous to me”

“By making you wear a masquerade mask, along with a gown as if you are a widow, I trust your judgment,” he said, sarcastically.

“He spared me, he could have killed me, as he had done to my maker, but he helped means taught me how to even live as a vampire,” you confessed.

“But he did not give you your talent”

“No,” you shook your head.

“Then I see no reason for this appearance, you have a voice unlike any other I’ve ever met, your eyes-

“My voice has nothing to do with my eyes, my face, he saved me and in return it is his”

“What could have happened to you for you to willingly settle for so little?”

“Excuse-

“Take off the mask,” he said, catching you off guard.

“No,” you said, awkwardly.

“We won't be able to fix this deep-rooted insecurity, whatever it is until you remove all of the layers that hide you,” he said, standing up, and hovering over you.

“Or you could mind your own business,” you said, seconds before screaming. Lestat had quickly taken the mask off, watching as your hand covered your face, nearly clawing in disgust to cover up.

“Please, I beg of you, give it back,” you cried, holding out your other hand, your head down.

“Y/n, look at me,” his eyes softened, it was one thing to see you quiet and standoffish - that was normal. However, seeing you bitterly weeping, your nails almost piercing into your face, he was concerned.

“Please, I’m sorry, just-give it back, please,” you said.

“Look at me first,” he said sternly, inaudibly gasping as lifted your head.

“Are you satisfied? Am I still the beautiful star you thought me to be, or do you finally see the monster hidden under the veil,” you spat, the blood-stained on your cheek.

“Is this what he has told you? This is nothing comparable to a monster, if anything, it makes you stand out. A beautiful voice, with an equally beautiful face, you just HAPPEN to be unique,” he told you, reaching to hold your chin, making you look at him.

“That isn't true, I don't want pity-” You were caught off guard as he pressed his lips against your own.

“You are very beautiful Y/n, you haven't been reminded of it, but you are. I haven't been able to get you out of my head since that night, you lifted your veil for me. You tug at my heart, with the simplest glances, don't ever think I am saying anything about you for pity,” he said, pulling you into another kiss.

“Come with me, to my place, we wouldn't want your leader interrupting,” he said, in between kisses, as he kissed along your neck.

The last thing you expected was for his place to be a dark abandoned dungeon, but his attentive skills made you indifferent to the environment. Finally, the passionate tango, you straddled his lap, your head on his chest, as he sat up leaning against the wall. Reaching for your mask, he stopped you.

“You don't have to be so quick to put it back on, I enjoy seeing you this way,” he said, kissing your scarred skin.

“I have to get back soon,” you told him.

“I want you to leave with me, be my companion, and we can travel the world, you can be the star I know you are,” he said, wrapping his arms around your body.

“You want to be my companion?” you asked, confused.

“I want nothing more than to be your companion, to love you for an eternity”

“What about Armand?”

“How he feels is irrelevant to me, he has kept you around as his toy, but I will lick your wounds if you accept me,” he said, wiping your tears. Nodding, you mumbled, ‘Yes’, as he kissed your lips.

“I have to get back now, we can start planning after tomorrow night,” you said, as he nodded in agreement, kissing your lips, before you look the mask, pressing it to your face.

By the time you were in the basement of the theatre, everyone was in their coffin, but Armand. He sat in his office, the light dim, looking up at you, as you came down the stairs. In an instant, he was in front of you, going to speak, you stared confusedly, as he lifted the veil, smashing his lips against your own.

“I missed you,” he said.

“Sorry, I changed my mind and ended up going hunting,” you lied.

“It is alright, will you join me tonight?” he asked.

“I’m too tired to do anything,” you put your head down, but he quickly lifted it, pecking your lips.

“And that is fine, I will hold you, come,” he said, grabbing your hand, and leading you to his coffin.

“I don't tell you too often, but I am proud of what you've become,” he wrapped his arms around you, as he shut the top.

“Thank you”

“No, thank you”

Watching from behind the curtain, you peered at Santiago as he recited his typical lines. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your lower back, making you turn around, your eyes widened, seeing Lestat.

“Why are you all the way over here?” you asked, but he ignored the question, pecking your lips.

“You look perfect, it will only be a short while before we are together away from this place,” he said reassuringly, lowering your veil, moving to the side, as the curtain opened, closing behind you. Looking towards the crowd, before setting your eyes upon Armand, you began to sing. However, mid-song, a commotion could be heard backstage, as the music sped up.

Glancing at Santiago, you noticed the unusually dark gleam in his eyes. The curtains opened again, revealing coven members, dressed as judges. Your heart immediately sank, as others brought Lestat onto the stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the true show of the night has begun,” Santiago chuckled. Going to rush to Lestat, you fell to your knees as pain shot through your body.

“This, my dear friends, is Y/n, our grim reaper, she takes hold of souls that face judgment, but who judges her, you will,” he said, making the audience cheer.

“What are you talking about? Armand, what is he talking about?” you asked, but they both ignored you.

“The gracious vampire Armand has done nothing but save her, she was in a freak show, her maker, she didn't even know, and instead of killing her, he took her in as his own, kept her secret,” he smirked, as you realized this was real.

“Armand-

“The ancient vampiric laws, she has broken number two, and while it wasn't her fault, she chose to leave with this secret,” he continued, watching as the audience cheered in anticipation.

“Y/n, be a doll and take off your veil,” he said. Frozen in your mind was all over the place, trying to understand why this was happening, how you could save Lestat, how you could save yourself.

Taking too long for the judges, with a simple glance, you began screaming, pulling the veil from your hair.

“Stop it,” Lestat screamed, trying to get up, but they seemed to have had him stuck in his seat.

“The dark gift, it shall never be given to children, the crippled, OR THE MAIMED,” he screamed, ripping the mask from your face, cutting your cheek in the process.

Lestat grunted and growled, trying to get up, but the more he fought, the more pain he felt.

“I’m okay,” you tried to reassure him, yelping as Santiago picked you up by your hair.

“See this hideous face, a face, not even a mother loved, yet Armand cared about this abomination, and in return, she went behind his back, planning to leave with a newborn,” he spat.

“Armand, I’m sorry,” you cried, but he kept a straight face, watching from his book.

“And Lestat de Lioncourt, from the moment he has stepped into this theatre, he has been puffed up with arrogance, and while that isn't a sin, he was willing to be an accomplice to help Y/n escape, despite seeing her monstrous face, so we will begin with him, guilty or not guilty?” he asked.

Using all of your strength, you controlled every human in the room, blood leaking from your eyes.

“Not guilty,” you muttered.

“g…NOT GUILTY,” everyone screamed, catching Santiago by surprise, but Armand saw you, and it only infuriated him, even more, to see you protect Lestat.

“And Y/n, her pathetic excuse of a maker is thankfully dead, but she is nothing more than an abomination that should have never been created, so I ask you, guilty or not guilty?”

“GUILTY”

“and her punishment?”

“DEATH”

“The jury has spoken,” he said, tossing your mask onto the floor.

“I am sorry Armand, that I didn't leave you sooner, I’ve allowed myself to be used for far too long for your benefit. I am grateful for your compassion, but only because through it, I was able to meet my companion. I love Lestat and I have no regrets, all I ask is, for you to do it the same way you did to my maker,” you said, smiling, as Amrand clenched his jaw.

His thoughts were loud and clear, you were his, and he could do whatever he wanted with you, sure, this ideology partially came from his own maker, but you knew this already. You could never leave him, your loyalty was owed to him alone, he hadn't made you his companion but he cared about you, in an unhealthy way, and for you to want to up and leave him for some guy you only known for a few months, he would rather see you dead than for you to leave Lestat.

Facing Lestat, you kept the sad smile on your face, taking in his face one last time.

“I love you, mon chér,” you said, before Armand set you ablaze. Your screams of agony flooded Lestat’s mind, as he cried, trying to come to you, but you quickly turned to ash, leaving nothing more than the remains of your gown and your mask.

Releasing him from their hold, he grabbed your mask, before rushing out of the building. Due to his judgment being not guilty, none of them could stop him, as he went to the dungeon. Your lingering scent only made him cry harder, as he clutched the mask. He would keep this mask, as an heirloom, as remembrance, as a promise. He’d love you always, and never forget the feelings you brought upon him.

As the song ended, Lestat opened his eyes, the fans screaming loudly for him. Reaching to remove the mask, he bowed, but seeing the figure in his peripheral, his eyes began to sting. Rising, he fought the urge to cry, seeing you standing next to him, bowing alongside him.

“I couldn't be more proud of you, mon chér,” you told him.

“I’m sorry, my love, I-

“No, you are seeing the entire world, and they love you, that is all that matters to me,” you smiled.

“I love you,” he said, reaching out for you, as you faded away.

The once heavy feeling has left his body, now replaced with sweet memories, you looked just as beautiful as the first time he'd laid eyes on you. He could go on, knowing that maybe, just maybe, you had been with him all along.

[turbulentscrawl]

Modern Reader Shorts

This is just a couple little blurb ideas I had that can't really be used for anything else. No warnings, really, it's mostly humor.

Luchino

“Your socks are mis-matched,” the professor announces offhandedly, sorting his notes. You’re laid out on the cushy chair in his ‘office,’ shoes off and legs dangling from one arm. And it’s true, your socks are different colors.

“Yeah, I couldn’t be bothered to find an actual pair this morning,” you answer. Luchino pauses and looks pointedly over at you, through his lashes, and squints a bit. That’s his thinking face, you note. Like he’s working through an equation.

“You’re not concerned about being judged for the state of your attire?” he asks.

“Not really. It’s not like anyone really sees my socks anyway.”

“Well, I’m seeing them now. It’s a messy look,” he finally says. There’s the smallest of smirks on his face as he says it. This is some unspoken test, a probe of your reactions. He does a lot of those.

“Okay, but you already know I’m a mess so what the fuck difference does that make?”

Luchino snorts a laugh at your response, and then coos a casual “touché.”

Frederick

“Has anyone ever told you ‘you have a slutty little waist’?” You call out to Fred. His fingers slip on the piano keys and the song comes to a cacophonous halt. He’s frozen still with his back to you—his dorito-looking back with its broad shoulders and snatched waist. You know by experience the man is boney as hell, so how dare he have such a silhouette?

“N-“ Fred coughs, voice croaking. “No, I can’t say that they have.” You can’t see his face, so you wonder if it’s shock or humor that makes him stutter.

“Well, you do,” you reply. A long silence settles over the room. He never dares to look at you, but you think you see pink turning at the tip of his ear.

“Was there anything else?” he asks. His fingers hesitantly move to restart the song.

“Nope. I just thought you should know.” You suppress a giggle as Fred clears his throat and begins playing again.

Robbie (platonic, obviously)

“There’s…games on this?” the too-tall headless boy asked, holding your phone in his discolored hands. He’d been asking around for a playmate all evening, until he found you. You weren’t much of a hide-and-seek type of person, however, and thought this might entertain him a bit in the meantime.

“Sure is! I’ve got crosswords, sudoku, Candy Crush, plenty of stuff!” You reach and tap around on your phone’s screen, pulling up the list of games you’d downloaded to pass the time, when you still lived in a place where there was time to pass. Candy Crush springs to life on the screen and Robbie flinches, nearly dropping your phone.

“It’s so bright…and loud,” he muttered. It was half awe, and half distress, you thought. Too stimulating for the boy, perhaps. You tried sudoku instead—it was a dark screen with no music, but by the time you’d explained the rules to Robbie, he was limp and snoozing against your shoulder.

[honeybadger16]

Charles Leclerc! Boyfriend Headcanons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader 

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, Charles being a simp for his GF

Word Count: .6k

a/n: Im thirsting over this photo so hard. I want them around my throa-

Charles is such boyfriend material 

the first date would include a tour around Monaco with Charles showing you his favorite spots growing up 

Extremely attentive to your mood and feelings

would actively listen and get angry with you when you come home and vent about the stupid people at your job 

“yeah fuck her” 

if you get a period he’ll get you ten different kinds of chocolates and all the types of pad or tampons the store has 

fusses over you

“you need to stay in bed!”

“Charles I’m just on my period not dying” 

“shh you need all the rest you can get” 

when he’s away for races he’ll text you good morning and night every.single.time.

sends you photos of what reminds him of you 

this included the pink tulips in his mom’s garden, the baby deer he spotted on his run, and the delicious strawberry gelato he got with Arthur

his entire camera roll is photos of you off guard 

to you, the photos should never see the light of day, but Charles could stare at them all day

expect all the pet names in the world with him 

“Mon amour, Mon Chéri, princess, my love, etc.”

speaking of princesses, expect him to treat you like an actual princess

likes to tie your high heels before you go out, so he can sneak a few kisses on your body

when he had a rough day he likes to sit at the piano and play for a bit

you usually sit by him resting your head on his shoulder as he pours out his emotions through his self-written songs 

you would encourage him to release his music on his platforms, giving him the courage to share his creativity with the world

at home dates are a must 

these dates would include binge-watching 2000s romcom movies and eating sugary and fat foods Charles’ nutritionist would not approve of

you would also convince him to let you do skincare on him (face masks, moisturizers, toners, etc.) 

he secretly loves the attention you give him and looks forward to stay-in date nights

this man is so dramatic

would get offended if you watched an episode of a show without him 

“I’m so hurt mon amour how could you do this to me.”

fighting is inevitable for any couple, and yours would most likely stem from the stress of racing and the effects it has on Charles 

Sometimes when Ferrari’s strategy or engineering goes to shit, Charles will come home in a bad mood 

This will cause him to respond in a curt and rude manner

After a few hours have passed he will come and apologize to you, kissing you all over your face asking you to forgive him

he loves when you use flavored lip balm, it gives him an excuse to kiss you more as he tries to guess the flavor

his favorite color on you is red, especially when shopping for lingerie

the first time you wore red underwear for him, he nearly came in his pants 

his mom would approve of the two of you seeing how happy you make Charles 

this man is whipped

he’s constantly heart eyes towards you 

will buy you all the nicest perfumes, jewelry, and shoes 

got you a necklace with the initial C and wears a matching bracelet with the initial of your first name 

loves when you wear his name on your shirt during racing weekend 

people would know that you’re dating regardless of the shirt because he’s attached to you in the paddock

whether it’s holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your waist he loves feeling you next to him

always looks for you first in the crowd when he stands on the podium 

considers you his rock and would do anything for you 

[goldsainz]

GUESS WHO’S BACK? — one shot.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

MASTERLIST.

NOTE: first of i wanna say that this is not meant to diminish the treatment nyck got bc it is undoubtedly shitty (helmut marko you will pay for your crimes), i am just happy one of my fav drivers is back. this is eminem!daughter!reader an idea @lorarri let me use, all the lyrics and song she came up with are fantastic, i couldn’t have made this without them, so thank you lola!!!!

liked by danielricciardo, eminem and 3,082,719 others

yourusername i am so excited to announce my newest album “BADGER BEWARE”!! this project has been in the making for quite some time, it has the help of people i am very close with. and inspirations behind a lot of impacting moments in my life. which is why i am so happy that it is finally here and you can all enjoy it july 13th

view all 46,251 comments

ynfan1 oh this is so about daniel

ynfan2 NEW MUSIC FINALLY😭😭

danielricciardo 💛💛💛

liked by yourusername and 96,053 others

⤷ danielfan1 acting as if the album isn’t gonna be dedicated to him

icespice gonna be bomb 🔥

scottyjames31 Claiming track 3 right now

⤷ danielricciardo No, it’s already claimed. Pick another.

ynfan3 july 13th cannot come any sooner

danielfan2 i hope y/n knows that she just sent me into cardiac arrest

danielfan3 MONZA MASH??? YOU’RE TELLING ME SHE MADE A SONG FOR HIS WIN IN MONZA

ynfan4 thank you eminem for the blessing that is y/n🙏

liked by charles_leclerc, bellahadid and 3,950,416 others

yourusername “BADGER BEWARE” is out now in all streaming platforms! i wanna take a moment to thank all the people who made this album possible, to the man who inspired this project and sat with me until sunrise writing down lyrics, to my friends who participated and helped me push through, but especially to all my fans who waited patiently for me to release my music in my own time. have fun and pls don’t take what i talk about too seriously (or do 😉)

view all 59,246 comments

danielricciardo I would sit until sunrise every day with you

⤷ yourusername love the sentiment but you were asleep 90% of the time

⤷ danielricciardo But I was still there!

ynfan21 RED WINGS IS WILD

ynfan22 album of the year!!!

danielfan21 oh so this is a diss track to mclaren…

redbullracing Our playlist has been updated!

liked by yourusername and 107,368 others

ynfan23 when we needed her most she appeared🙏

ynfan24 damn she did not hold back

danielfan22 DANIEL AND Y/N BEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

“Show-stopping” is the expression Y/N wants to convey each time she sits down and starts to write her songs. It is a “big word”, as she puts it, but there is no other word that would fit the feeling she hopes to transmit through her music.

“I started writing “BADGER BEWARE” back in 2021, I think around august, and by the end of that year I had written 3 songs. I stopped writing because I thought of either scrapping the whole project or making a 4-5 song EP. Obviously that didn’t end up happening because now there are 10 songs, 1 intro and 1 outro. All those songs hold a different place in my heart and while they all form part of the genre of Rap, they’re heartfelt in their own special way.”

Rap is a genre Y/N is all too familiar with. With her father being Eminem, an icon to the genre and the 2000s — even now. She says that the choice is not arbitrary, that there is an influence she cannot deny, but chooses to embrace it rather than push it away.

She dedicated the album to her boyfriend of 3 years, Daniel Ricciardo, who was the initial inspiration behind it. “Danny listened to me rant about my ideas for hours, sat in different studios with me and suggested different things that made the whole experience different than anything I’d ever done before. He also introduced me to — now one of my good friends — Charles Leclerc, who plays piano and is the one that composed the music for both the intro and outro.”

When asked about her favourite songs she picked a couple because “there is no way I could choose just one”. There is an evident passion to her craft when it comes to Y/N, something not everyone in her field possesses quite as well as she does.

“HONEY, RED WINGS and SUMMER SMILE are probably my top 3. They were all written at such drastically different points of my life, about things that have practically nothing to do with each other but that are tied by a little string. Some people think I pick my singles because they’re my favourite, which is true because all my songs are my favourites! But most of all I pick them because they’re the ones that I felt most comfortable publicising, all the other songs in the album are like a little secret between my fandom and me.

“There are also songs which are more personal. MONZA MASH, for example, it’s a very hyper song but it still is about an event that was very emotional. TEARS OF THE SUN, is also an obvious one. My songs are about something, and if it makes you feel anything at all then I did my job right.”

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE!

liked by tayrussell, saweetie and 2,785,046 others

yourusername 2 THE MAX MV IS HERE!! i heard it was a fan favourite and had to deliver… there is no way to express my gratitude to you all for the support the album has gotten, so i guess this is my way!

view all 41,775 comments

ynfan31 MY FAV SONG YES

⤷ danielfan31 “i turn up the heat to the max and watch them bitches squirm” ATE THAT SHIT UPPP

ynfan32 y/n mathers?? MORE LIKE Y/N MOTHER

danielricciardo She’s wearing red, next question!

⤷ yourusername LMAO??

⤷ maxverstappen1 Let him be, he’s a bit jet-lagged

ynfan33 literally fell down the stairs bc of this announcement

danielfan32 forget daniel… I WANT HER

ynfan34 as a y/n fan i am more than amazed at the amount of content we’re getting😭

ynfan35 it suddenly got real hot

⤷ ynfan36 we call that “the y/n effect”

ynfan37 LITERALLY RUN ME OVER!!!!!!

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

A Love of Music

I have always enjoyed music and I wish I was good at playing an instrument. To sit down at the piano and effortlessly play one of my favourite songs for example. It always blew my mind when I saw people do just that in public spots. 

A few days before I enlisted, I was picking up my current girlfriend at St Pancras. She’d been at her parents in Kent over Christmas. We’d arranged to meet by the large Christmas tree. There was a piano there too. Free to use for anyone who wanted to show off their skills or entertain the travellers.

A teenage girl took a seat and started to play Auld Lang Syne. It was beautiful and much to my chagrin, I had to wipe away a tear.

***

Classical music was a genre I had an ambivalent relationship with. I guess I found it too pompous in my youth, but as I got older, some pieces stuck with me, and I quite enjoyed The New Year Concert from Vienna. 

It varied which instrument I was fascinated by. The harp, with its grandeur and elegant form, had always intrigued me. I also enjoyed the oboe. The sound of it felt both soothing and melancholy. But in the end, it was the violin I loved the most. How a skilled violinist could coax out all kinds of sounds from the beautiful instrument never failed to stun me. 

***

And then I experienced that even talented violinists could play so terrible that it hurt the ears and caused shudders to ripple through the entire body.

Yes, I’m referring to my mad flatmate and boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. When we first met, and he told me he played the violin, I thought he was an amateur. Imagine my surprise and awe when I realised that he was just as skilled as any violinist in a symphony orchestra. At least in my opinion.

“You’re biased, John,” Sherlock told me.

I guess I was, but he was bloody good, and I thoroughly enjoyed it when he played for me. Therefore, I was totally unprepared for the change in tone when Mycroft visited. I had had my encounter with the pompous arse in a parking cellar somewhere months prior, but this was the first time I witnessed a meeting between the brothers.

A screeching sound from Sherlock’s violin made me cover my ears and yell from the kitchen: “what the hell, Sherlock!”

He stopped for a brief second to tell me his brother was tormenting him. Then he started molesting his instrument again. It was unbearable. I think my ears would’ve started to bleed if I hadn’t been able to pry the bow out of his hand. He plucked the strings for a while, before he sprawled on the sofa, clutching the violin to his chest.

***

The tone and the pieces he played when I had nightmares, were soft and gentle, luring me back to the flat and out of the desert. My heart swelled with love for him in those moments. Sometimes I stood from the bed and went to thank him with an embrace or a kiss. Other times, I was too fatigued to do anything but just lay there and thank him in my mind. The nightmares got less straining after I started sharing his bed, but he still played for me.

***

Sherlock’s own tone when Mrs. Hudson asked him to play Christmas carols, was clipped and haughty, but when he started playing – well, it was magical. He transformed from that aloof man everybody thought to be a sociopath, and into a passionate musician. I could even discern a tiny curl of his lip, indicating a smile on those occasions. After all, he’d do anything for his beloved Hudders, however reluctant he seemed.

***

His sorrow filled the small church when he played at his father’s funeral. I had never seen a face so despairing. Tears trickled down his cheeks in a constant stream, but he never faltered. Not until he lowered his bow after he’d finished playing. I was by his side before he’s knees gave way, and he stayed close to me for the rest of the day.

***

After we moved to Sussex, Sherlock still practised and played the violin, but it took a bit more effort as the years passed. His fingers weren’t that flexible anymore, especially during winter. So, we changed our habits. Every so often we took the train up to London, or Mycroft provided a car, and we went to see the London Symphony Orchestra. If there was a serene violin solo, Sherlock tapped at my arm in step with the soloist. 

***

It wasn't our shared love of music that brought us together, but it was an important part of the foundation of our relationship. And when the crime solving and the hunt for suspects through London ended, the music became an even bigger part of our lives. The tones changed and differed, but our love remained solid and steadfast.

-------------------------------------------------------------

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely

@jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982

@meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-letsfuckingdie

@7-percent @lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12

@jawnscoffee @gay-ass-bitch @acumberlockedgirl @williamholmeswatson @whatnext2020

@mydogwatson @redmondcollege

(Tell me if you want to get tagged or removed from the list)

[bouncybongfairy]

Caught Dead

The Creature x Fem Reader

Summary: Your homecoming date leaves you for another girl. On your sad and drunk walk home, you come across a memorial service for a Victorian man. Honoring his music, you wander in and play a score he wrote. The creature is so moved by your playing, he comes back from the dead and witnesses your talent first hand.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Not Proof Read

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Usually homecoming is a night that everyone raves about. Prom is always so pretentious and stressful. Whereas homecoming was more carefree; at least that’s how it’s depicted in romance novels and fanfiction. The guy you were originally going with ended up ditching you for another girl. Your best friend was with her boyfriend and third wheeling wasn’t something you're interested in. The best course of action was to walk home, stopping at a liquor store on the way. The old woman behind the counter looked you up and down, this didn’t offend you though. Mascara stained tears left streaks of gray lined down your face. Wearing a big pink dress that you used to feel really good in. Now it felt more like a cone of shame, drawing attention to what a hot mess you were. 

“Can I please get a dutch honey and small bottle of Skol,” you ask, setting a twenty dollar bill on the counter. 

“Normally I would laugh and send you away. You’re lucky I only have fifteen minutes until I clock out and how pathetic you look right now,” she said, taking your money and bagging the items. 

Even though it was a little back handed, you were grateful for her kindness. Chasing the vodka down with cigarettes as you walked. Humming tunes to yourself, enjoying the crisp night air. The sound of classical music caught your attention, a funeral home. It was one of the only places that had its doors open still. You sit outside on the steps, gutting your wrap before rolling the blunt. 

“Were you coming in?” a voice came from the doorway. 

“Oh um, yeah just give me a second,” you say.

“Take your time,” the older gentleman gave you a warm smile before heading back inside. 

You tucked the blunt behind your ear, shoving the half empty bottle into your purse before walking in. It wasn’t an open casket funeral but more of a memorial service. There was a piano in the corner of the room, a vase of red roses sitting on top of the beautiful wood. The funeral director explained that a bunch of this young man’s music was recently discovered. A museum recently bought the music and discovered he was never given a proper funeral so they wandered to give him a proper memorial. 

To honor him and the beautiful scores that were never showcased the way they deserved. Apparently the party from the museum didn’t stay for long, the director said they mostly took pictures for their website. After reading more about his story, you felt more connected to him. Apparently his girl left him for another man. Similar to what happened at the dance tonight. Grabbing one of the scores and sitting at the piano. It could be because you were drunk but as the sorrowful melody filled the room tears pricked into your eyes again. Imagining how his feelings of betrayal and grief probably poured through his pen while writing this song. 

Not being able to shake the fact that you just learned first hand how being left can feel. Bitter because deep down your biggest fear for the night came true; lonely from being too embarrassed to admit you were someone's second choice. Tears rolling down your face as you let yourself drown in sorrow. Unbenounced to you, The Creature not only heard his music so beautifully remastered but your cries. So moved by feeling and hearing your broken heart crying from your chest, he begins to stir. Pushing himself out of the ground and making his way towards the music. 

Lighting your blunt inside the room, you were tipsy and didn’t care if there were repercussions. Letting it hang off your lips and you played, trying not to let the smoke in your eyes. Meanwhile the creature was getting hung up on the mechanics of his body. Slowly stumbling towards the illuminated building, stopping dead in his tracks once seeing you. The light above the ceiling was casting down on you. Highlighting your eyelashes and flyaways, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. How expressive your face was while playing the notes, looking up every once to let tears run down your face. Showing how the mascara ran down your neck.  His daze was broken once he saw the worker coming back in the room, pointing his finger and yelling. This enraged him; stomping over there to stop the man from approaching you. Having some trouble with the stairs but after finally made his way in. 

Grabbing the sides of his old man's head and snapping his neck. You gasp, the blunt dropping out of your mouth and onto the floor. Going to pick it up but being taken back but The Creature. He stepped over the body and slowly inched towards you. You pull your knees up to your chest and press your back against the wall. He was now hovering over you, staring at you before leaning down. Getting on one knee and picking up the blunt, standing back up. 

Now closer, his lower stomach pressed against your knees. Putting the dutch between your lips with one hand and brushing the hair out of your eyes with the other. You put your knees down and pulled him onto the bench. Starting to play his score, focusing on keys and not his… appearance. As you played he grunted at a specific measure every time which led you to investigate why, 

“What? This part?” you replayed it a couple times. He pointed out a certain note and then to another, shifting his finger back and forth. In your interpretation, he was prompting you to switch the notes. Him humming in satisfaction at the change. 

“Yeah that does sound a lot smoother,” you point out. 

Remembering the body, you both leave in order to avoid responsibility. Walking home together, playing your music out loud for him to enjoy. Before the dark felt scary and daunting but now you were enjoying the night air. Completely ignorant to reality but never feeling better. 

[pinetreesandportals]

Ford Pines headcanons part two:

-The man gets so invested in his D&D&D game sometimes that he doesn’t sleep for days.

-He plays the piano so well that he went back in time to show Mozart. It brought the child to tears.

-He knows all of the words to every BABBA song, solely because he wanted to bond with Dipper.

-He can’t get over the fact that that people don’t stare at his six fingers anymore. He used to hide them behind his back as a child, but now he felt no need to do so.

-His biggest insecurity was his hands. After Weirdmageddon, it was the trauma.

-He never got to properly thank Stan for bringing him back, which kills him inside. He tried to do it over the years, using new attractions for the Mystery Shack and a new car. Stan knew he was saying thank you, so he would accept them. He couldn’t say you’re welcome, so he would lightly tease his brother about something or other.

-He hoped deep down that Mabel and Dipper wouldn’t turn out like he and Stan did.

-When fall came, the twins had to go back. Stan called their parents, and he was able to get them enrolled in school in Gravity Falls. Mabel liked it because she didn’t have to leave her friends. Dipper liked it because he could become Ford’s apprentice.

-Ford created his own part of the Mystery Shack tour. It frightened the tourists but paid well, so Stan let him stay on.

[ginxyy]

Melodies of our heart

My soulmate Jihoon



There’s something utterly entrancing about the way the sun filters through the tall windows of Jihoon’s studio, casting delicate rays upon the myriad of instruments strewn about, each waiting patiently for their moment to sing. It was here, amongst the gentle chaos of keyboards and guitars, that my heart first acknowledged the fluttering, teasing touches of love. Jihoon is not just a composer; he is the very melody that has woven its way into the fabric of my soul.

This day felt particularly magical, as if the universe conspired to create an atmosphere thick with possibility. I had slipped into the studio, my sanctuary, a place where creativity danced in the air, and warmth radiated from the man I adored. Jihoon was hunched over his keyboard, the faintest pout on his lips as he concentrated, his fingers gliding over the keys with an elegance that took my breath away.

“Don’t you ever tire of being this brilliant?” I teased, leaning against the wall, my arms folded, just drinking him in. He looked up, and the corners of his mouth turned upward, illuminating the room in a way that sunlight alone could not.

“Not as long as you’re here to inspire me,” he replied, his voice a low, soothing melody that wrapped around me like a well-worn blanket. In that moment, I realized how deeply he had etched himself into the canvas of my life, and a blush crept across my cheeks.

With an exaggerated sigh, I moved closer, sitting on the plush, oversized rug that dotted the floor. “Is that a compliment or a way to distract me from your never-ending lyricism?” I teased again, though my heart raced at his words. Jihoon had a surprising way of loading every interaction with flirtation and sincerity.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the room like a gentle breeze through trees. “Why not both? You know, inspiration often strikes when you least expect it.” I could see the spark in his beautiful eyes, a twinkling mischief that made my stomach flutter.

As he shifted back to his work, I watched him, enthralled by the grace of his movements the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered a chord change, or how he would occasionally spin his hair with a distracted hand, habitually curling and uncurling the silky strands. I loved every moment in this sanctuary of sound, but I loved just being near him even more.

The days blurred into a sweet cascade of memories. I often sat across from Jihoon at the grand piano while he effortlessly shaped the notes that floated between us like dandelion seeds in the wind. Each session felt both intense and intimate as we dove deeper into the creative process. There was a rhythm to our collaboration, an unsung harmony that tethered us together on a level that felt profound yet wonderfully innocent.

One evening, wrapped in the cozy embrace of dim fairy lights flickering above us, Jihoon paused mid-composition and turned toward me. “I’ve been working on something,” he said, the excitement palpable in his tone. My heart raced. I had heard countless pieces he crafted, each one a glimpse into his brilliant mind, but this time felt different.

“What is it?” I could hardly contain my curiosity.

“It’s a song,” he murmured, his gaze intense, holding mine like a secret shared between two lovers. “And… it’s about you.” His words hung in the air, swirling around us, igniting something deeper within my heart.

“Me?” I gasped, my breath caught somewhere between astonishment and a delightful thrill. “Forget that I can’t sing this is incredible, Jihoon! You’re going to make me cry,” I said, my voice trembling slightly at his confession.

He scoffed, waving me off playfully. “You have a beautiful voice. You just haven’t discovered it yet.” He reached for my hand gently, intertwining our fingers. The warmth of his touch ignited a spark between us, and the room felt charged with an unseen force.

“Will you play it for me?” I asked, leaning closer, my heart drumming an anxious melody of hope as I implored him with my eyes. The camera in my mind clicked, freezing that moment in time as he took a deep breath, exuding a charm that made the air around us shimmer.

Seating himself back at the piano, Jihoon’s fingers danced across the keys, and I was submerged in the music a symphony of notes that felt like poetry woven into sound. There it was, the rhythm of our shared moments the laughter, the unspoken words, the stolen glances that hinted at something profound.

As he played, I closed my eyes and allowed the music to envelop me. His voice was soft, melodic, as he sang the lyrics a confession that fluttered like butterflies in my chest, unveiling the depth of his feelings. Each word resonated as if he poured every ounce of his soul into the song, crafting a heartfelt testimony of how he had fallen in love.

“I never knew how beautiful love could be,

Until I saw the world through your eyes, you see.

Like a melody turning, soft and true,

My heart is a song that finds its way to you.”

My heart soared and plummeted, echoing each poignant lyric. Jihoon finished, and silence filled the room, tainted only by the gentle echo of the final chord that lingered, time suspended around us like a fragile promise. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, the world outside faded away.

“It’s beautiful,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, filled with emotion. “You’ve poured everything into this.”

“Because you are everything to me,” he replied, his words a soft caress, wiping away all doubts and fears. In that heartbeat of silence, I understood I was not merely a muse for his music; I was the song that danced in his heart, the rhythm that urged him forward. My cheeks flushed with warmth, and I didn’t need to think twice before leaning in, pressing my lips softly against his.

We were a symphony beautifully entwined, two souls captured in a moment that would etch itself into the very fabric of our existence. The studio, our sacred haven filled with endless possibilities, bore witness to our love an extraordinary melody composed by fate, played out in soft whispers and tender moments, forever lingering in my heart.

[musiclover84898]

As you know i’ve been on a tad fiona apple high so im thinking perhaps the reader is the kinda artist that fiona is and she’s preforming in a quiet club. James comes with Kirk (per kirk’s request) and James is really struck by her sorta and ends up trying to talk to her before she leaves so they just talk for a bit and it’s mostly fluff with a few 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 remarks

This is so creative I love it !!! James in a cowboy hat does something to me…I based the title off of one of Fiona’s albums because I didn’t know what to call it lmao. Thank you for your request! 😽

Warnings: Mostly fluff, somewhat-sexual/suggestive remarks. This takes place in 1992

Word count: 1,346

Tidal - James Hetfield

Friday nights were always the busiest, from what I've observed. So any different people would usher themselves inside the small club, sitting at the circular tables or the bar with a glass of wine in hand, chatting and laughing as I performed my songs. It filled me with a sense of pride as I watched the people cheer and applaud for me, a clear sign that they enjoyed my work. I loved what I did, and it felt good knowing that others did, too.

I started my show like normal, the soft, melodic sound of the piano filling out the underground room. My fingers grasped onto the microphone as I began to sing, the lyrics streaming from my lips as the song progressed on. I liked to believe that I was one of those artists who really felt the music they sang and wrote, not the ones who just listened to it. As I continued with the show, it felt like I was the only one in the room; like I was preforming to an empty expanse. I sang better that way, I thought. Slower, more heartfelt songs began to play, hinting at the end of my set.

The door to the club swung open quietly, two men walking in and taking a seat at the bar. I curiously glanced over at them as I sang, my eyes lingering on the taller of the two. He had blue eyes and long, shaggy blonde hair. He was also wearing a cowboy hat, which I thought was quite interesting. We made eye contact; for a moment, it felt like I was singing to him. My stomach jumbled into a knot as we continued to stare at each other, the tension between us growing. Without even thinking, I looked away towards the rest of the crowd to finish out the song. I had to find him after my set, and figure out who the hell he was and what he was doing here at my show..

༄༄༄

I was sitting near the bar, a drink in hand as I gazed at my shoes. The show was a success, per usual; I had received praise from nearly half the bar; their cheering and applause still echoed in my ears. The sound of clinking ice against the glass sent me back to the present moment, revealing the man from before standing right in front of me. My eyebrows raised abruptly, earning a dark, husky chuckle from him.

“You did an amazing job up there, rockstar. I’m impressed,” he said as he took a seat on the barstool next to mine. I bashfully smiled, waving my hand as if I was dismissing his compliments. Nervous butterflies were fluttering in my chest and stomach; why was I getting so damn jittery around him? I took a hearty sip of my drink before settling it back down onto the bar.

“Thank you. I saw you earlier while I was on stage, what’s your name?” I asked. I noticed his outfit and how casual it looked; boots, slightly ripped jeans, and a plain black shirt with the sleeved rolled up to his forearms. Not the attire for a place like a jazz club, I thought. I noticed him take a sip of beer from a tall glass before answering me. He had a horseshoe mustache. It kind of looked like one of the ones you’d see in an old Western film. It made me want to laugh.

“James. James Hetfield,” he began, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his big hand. “You’re absolutely beautiful.” His words hung in the air for a long while, allowing me to absorb his low voice and his piercing, ice-blue stare. His name sounded familiar; extremely familiar, actually, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe it was because of the strong liquor I had been drinking for the past fifteen minutes.

“Thank you, Mr. Hetfield.” I joked, lightly jabbing him in the arm with a small fist. He laughed deeply, showing off his white teeth. He certainly was very charming, from his words all the way down to the way he carried himself in general. I felt extremely attracted to him already, even though we’d met just under ten minutes ago. We continued to talk with each other about random things like music, and how we both had a hobby of playing guitar. To me, it sounded like he was extremely passionate and serious about it. It was interesting to listen to him explain how he started playing in the first place. After a few more drinks, it was clear we both felt a bit tipsy.

“I bet a lot of men come up to you, huh? You’re really fuckin’ pretty.” He hiccuped, placing a wobbly hand on my thigh for leverage. His blonde hair looked tousled and messy, which somehow suited him even more. His hat was resting next to his nth glass of beer, which was already half full.

I blush as red as a beet, and mutter a “Thank you” under my breath. He must’ve noticed how embarrassed and flushed I looked, because his lopsided smirk grew wider.

“You’re very welcome, baby. How about we come back to my place, hmm? I could show you a real good time, little lady.” His voice sounded a lot more hoarse and raw than before, a clear sign that the alcohol was affecting his behavior. My heart began to thump loudly in my chest, beating so fast I thought it would burst. The hand on my thigh began to travel closer to the hem of my skirt, toying with the black fabric. I sucked in a breath, my teeth chewing down on my bottom lip.

“I really shouldn’t. We’re both shitfaced,” I laughed softly, placing my hand on top of his own. They felt cold, but it was a pleasant feeling. The atmosphere of the room was hot and stuffy all of a sudden; what the fuck was happening? I rubbed my temples with my index and middle fingers, trying to relieve some of the tension in my head.

“And besides, it’s late. I should be packing up my equipment right now.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. I wanted to say yes so damn badly, but I just met this guy. I couldn’t just saunter back to his apartment and sleep with him! I wasn’t that stupid.

“So? You’ve never fucked anyone when you’ve been a little tipsy, sweet thing? It’s a lot of fun,” he taunted in a sing-song tone of voice. “But, if you say so, I won’t keep askin’ you,” he squeezed my thigh before letting it go, taking a final sip of his beer. He leaned down, placing a lingering kiss to my cheekbone. I could smell the alcohol on his lips and the faded cologne on his shirt; the unfamiliar-yet-intoxicating scent made my heart race even more than it already was. I quickly scanned him up and down before peering back up into his half-lidded eyes.

“I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart. You take care of yourself in the meantime, alright?” He told me, tossing on his cowboy hat and making his way through the large room and out the door. As he left, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen him before, and how familiar his name sounded. As I slowly refocused on my environment, I could hear people whispering and chatting with each other about the man who had just given me a kiss on the cheek.

“Holy shit, James from fucking Metallica was just in here!”

“Man, I should’ve asked for his autograph. I feel like such an idiot now. Did you see that woman he was talking with?!”

My eyes widened as I instinctively reached for my glass of liquor. I rose the rim to my lips, letting the bitter-tasting liquid fall onto my tongue. A member of Metallica had just chatted me up tonight. I felt a small smile curling onto my lips.

So that’s where I knew him from.

A.N: I finished this at like 3 am so I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes! This is the last fic I will post before I go into inactivity for a little while. Requests will be closed until I adjust to school and overall just get my life organized lmao. I’ll make a post announcing when they’ll be open again eventually. I hope you all enjoyed reading this!, thank you my love @marchymango for requesting it 🤍 Much love xoxo

© musiclover84898

[snapghoul]

Why do I see Bradley find a piano at a random bar in Oklahoma and starting to sing great balls of fire

Like how would the wranglers react to this man singing 

I laughed at love ‘cause I thought it was funny

Where there’s a piano, there’s Bradley Bradshaw.

Note: this is more Sereshaw than the reactions of the wranglers. But I love using Great Balls of Fire as a reference to Jake and Bradley, I think the songs fits them. And Bradley always has the power to make a crowd go wild with just one song, no matter what state or country he’s in.

Warnings: sickeningly sweet

Song: Great Balls of Fire by Miles Teller

Bradley was finding an unexpected affinity for the country life. The serene charm of the countryside, when it wasn’t being ravaged by storms, had a way of subtly working its way into his heart. He had even been convinced to start wearing flannel button-ups, much to Tyler and Jake’s amusement, who never missed an opportunity to tease him about his beloved 80s Hawaiian shirts. At least his dad would approve of his style.

The bar was unexpectedly crowded, filled with a diverse mix of patrons. Bradley was relieved he wasn’t clad in one of his flashy blue and pink shirts, as he already stood out enough.

He was only half-listening to Tyler and Jake’s discussion at the table, his attention drifting as he absentmindedly nibbled on peanuts. The conversation was animated and centered around the idea of starting a YouTube channel.

“Ty, we’re an elite special squadron. There’s no way Cyclone would let us start a channel,” Jake argued.

“Come on, Jake! Think about it! If we had some great footage, it could be epic! People would love to see what it’s like inside a jet!” Tyler countered, enthusiasm in his voice.

“Yeah, but the cockpits are cramped enough without shoving a camera in there,” Jake replied, shaking his head.

Bradley’s gaze was suddenly drawn to a piano in the corner of the bar. Instantly, his mood brightened. Without a word, he slipped away from the table, his steps light and purposeful as he headed towards the instrument.

“Right, Roo—” Jake began, turning to his side, only to find Bradley had vanished.“Bradley?”

The group glanced around, surprised by the sudden absence of someone as noticeable as Rooster.

Jake’s eyes quickly found him; Bradley was already perched on the piano bench, methodically dusting off the keys.

“Is he?” Tyler leaned forward, trying to peer around a man who was obstructing his view.

Jake’s face lit up as the familiar, vibrant notes of a piano warm-up began to fill the air. “Yup,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

Jake slipped away from the table, weaving through the crowd that had grown quieter with the sound of the piano. He approached Bradley, who was seated at the piano with his sunglasses perched on his nose and his sleeves rolled up.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually going to—” Jake started, incredulous.

Bradley shot him a cocky grin, his fingers poised over the keys. “Every crowd is a Jerry Lee Lewis crowd,” he replied confidently.

Jake glanced around the bar, taking in the puzzled but intrigued faces of the patrons. “I don’t think this is a Jerry Lee Lewis crowd,” he said, motioning to the mix of people around them.

Bradley’s smile widened as he began to play. “Trust me,” he said, his fingers striking the keys with a spirited energy. “They’re about to find out what kind of crowd they really are.”

“Bradley—” Jake began, but his words were drowned out by the raucous piano music.

‘You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain,’

Bradley sang with enthusiasm, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the bar. His fingers danced across the keys with remarkable precision.

Jake couldn’t help but laugh as the crowd began to react, some patrons clapping along and others even getting up to dance. The bar’s atmosphere shifted from casual chatter to lively excitement.

Jake’s gaze met his brother’s, who was watching with wide eyes, the wranglers caught off guard by Bradley’s sudden burst of flare. He had been nothing quiet and reserved for the last few days.

‘But you came along and you moved me, honey.’

Jake felt a nudge as Bradley elbowed him in the hip, snapping him back to the performance. Bradley tilted his head playfully, and Jake responded with a broad grin. Leaning in, he let out an enthusiastic yip.

‘I changed my mind, this love is fine.’

The two of them leaned into each other, their heads close as they shouted the lyrics together, their voices blending with the pounding rhythm of the piano.

“Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!”

Jake was so captivated by Bradley’s presence that he barely noticed the crowd around them. The entire bar was swept up in the moment, their voices merging into a unified chorus of exuberance.

‘You’re fine, you’re so kind,’

Bradley and Jake moved closer, their energy infectious as they sang. Jake practically hung off Bradley, both of them swaying and bobbing their heads with the rhythm.

‘I’ma tell the world that you’re mine, mine, mine, mine.’

The wranglers discovered three things that night as they watched Bradley come alive at the piano. First, he could sing—and he did it remarkably well. Second, his callsign, Rooster, had more layers than they’d initially realized. And third, it was unmistakably clear that those two was hopelessly in love with each other.

Bonus:

Tyler stood in stunned silence, his mouth agape as he watched the scene unfold. While the other wranglers were lost in the music, singing and dancing along, Tyler was frozen in place.

Jake, who had always been reserved and never sang in front of a crowd, was now pouring his heart out in a public display he’d never thought possible. Tyler was struck by the realization that Jake had clearly fallen harder than he had ever seen before. His brother, typically so guarded about his emotions and sexuality, was now openly expressing his feelings, clinging to Rooster and singing a love song with an intensity that left Tyler in awe.

“Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!”

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit -- drabble 3

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara meets more of your family and learns another secret

warnings: none

word count: 700+

previous part | next part

Cordelia had been put to bed hours ago. You had been given the task by your parents, with the claim that you could get her to fall asleep the fastest, and Tara had watched as you rocked your sister gently in your arms, whispering sweet words to her until her babbles and giggles faded into a peaceful silence.

Maybe, Tara had thought while she stood in the doorway, committing the sight to memory, a baby wouldn’t be so bad right now.

Though the reason for the party was sleeping in her crib upstairs, there were still plenty of people crowded in your ballroom, though you had told Tara that they were all close friends or extended family by that point.

You had been whisked away by a cousin, which left Tara vulnerable to whomever decided to strike up a conversation. And, just as she watched Nate and Eddie begin to march toward her, her line of vision was blocked by your grandparents, who had finally emerged from the wine cellar.

“Hello, deary,” your grandmother said, smiling. “You must be our Y/N’s dear girlfriend.”

Your grandfather stood by his wife’s side silently, and Tara remembered you telling her that he was not too fond of people. She offered him a smile but kept her attention on your grandmother.

“Yes, hi! I’m Tara.” She stuck her hand out, slightly thankful that your grandma decided to shake it rather than pull her into a hug. As nice as they are, I think I’ve had enough hugs for one day.

“It’s lovely to meet you, sweetheart. Y/N has spoken so much about you.” Your grandmother winked. Tara felt herself blush up to her ears.

“She talks about you guys a lot, too! She holds both of you in very high esteem.”

Your grandmother chuckled, and Tara’s ears perked up, realizing that she was who you had gotten your laugh from. “I’m sure she speaks of her grandfather plenty.” She patted her husband on the forearm. “He is, after all, the writer of the two of us, and we all know how much Y/N loves literature.”

Tara turned to your grandfather. “Right, of course. She’s mentioned that you’re a poet.”

Your grandfather’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of his work. “Talks about her old man, does she? Yes, yes. In my day, I could write poem upon poem.” He looked at your grandmother. “Most of them were for Jane, of course.”

Tara smiled as your grandmother scoffed lightly. This will be us one day, she thought. I just know it. “I’ve read a few of them,” Tara said, and your grandfather grinned. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He stood a little taller and puffed his chest out a bit. “Makes an old man like me feel good, hearing a youngster like you say that.”

“Well, I’m just being honest--” Tara was interrupted by your appearance at her side. You took her hand in yours, beaming at your grandparents.

“Hope these two oldies aren’t boring you, Tar,” you giggled, and your grandmother reached out, swatting you on the shoulder.

“Go on, child,” your grandma said, her tone light. “Go play us a song. Make yourself useful while we speak to your dear girl.”

Play us a song? Tara wondered, her eyebrows furrowing.

You hummed and nodded. “Any requests, my lovely grandmother?”

“Play that one song she likes,” your grandpa answered. “You know…that one song.”

“Ah, yes. ‘That one song’,” you teased. You pulled away from Tara. “Just a moment.” She watched as you crossed the room, settling down on the bench in front of the grand piano that stood in the corner of the room.

Her eyes widened. No way. How many things is this woman hiding from me?

A somber melody filled the room, and all conversations quieted, everyone turning to watch you as you played, your fingers dancing along the keys of the piano like they belonged there.

Tara gulped, her heart beginning to race, a shiver running along her back. Jesus, I’m so in love with her, she thought.

The song began to pick up a bit, and her eyes glanced around the room, seeing your parents sway together and Nate and Eddie sitting still for once, entranced by the tune.

Your eyes closed, your fingers playing faster. You became one with the music, one with the piano, and Tara tried to bite back the smile that pulled at her lips. You looked at home there, on that bench--almost as much as you did when you were explaining literature.

“Oh, I know that look,” your grandfather whispered, and Tara glanced at him. He grinned, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. “Welcome to the family, dear girl.” Softly, he patted her on the back. “Welcome to the family.”

[i-am-baechu]

⋆｡°✩♬ ♪ My Melody ⁞ M. Yoongi

𝄞₊ ⊹ Summary: “A piano or guitar couldn’t explain how much I love you...”

𝄞₊ ⊹ Pairing: Established relationship; Yoongi x Deaf! Reader 

𝄞₊ ⊹ Rating: Pg - 14 

𝄞₊ ⊹ Genre: Little angst, fluff and romance 

𝄞₊ ⊹ Playlist: If Not For You - Maneskin 

Ivory keys that can tell a story and steel strings that complete it. That’s how Y/N described her relationship with Yoongi. A sweet and slow song. An easy song to dance to even to those that can’t dance. Two different lives that on paper, doesn’t make sense to be together but in their music, nothing else mattered. Yoongi came into her as loud as the echoes in an empty hall.

She finished writing her song when the door opened. She slowly looked up and her eyes met dark brown eyes that held kindness in them. She looked around the room and then back at her sheet music. She was writing away when she heard a guitar playing a sweet melody. She dropped her pen and turned towards the song, it was as if it was calling for her. She slowly walked towards him and continued to listen. 

“I like your playing.” 

Yoongi stopped mid-note and looked up to see her curious eyes. He glanced down at his guitar and let out a small cough, “Thanks...I heard you playing. I thought this would go well with it.”

Y/N turned around and grabbed her sheet music in excitement. She pulled up a chair to sit next to him with an excited smile, “You think so?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her excitement, “Want to try it?”

“I would love to...”

When she found out that he was famous, a whole new world was born. She didn’t care who he was. To the world he was Suga but to her...to her, he was Min Yoongi. The soft man who built her the nightstand when she was in need of one and the man who was with her from the very beginning. 

“Yoongi, I told you I was fine.”

He crossed his arms and closed the studio door with a frown. He turned towards her and sighed, “I don’t think so. You can’t hear when Hoseok is calling for you. I’m worried.”

Y/N looked away and frowned, “I have a check-up in the morning...you can come and tell them.” 

“Y/N, you-”

“I can’t ask them...I can’t.” 

Yoongi nodded his head and sat next to her. He placed his hand on her knee and she looked at him with a sad look, “I’ll get my shoulder looked at too...would that make you feel better?” 

She let out a small laugh and leaned into him. Her head on “his good shoulder” (something he called it), “We’re both messed up.” 

“Yeah that asshole hit us both-”

“Yoongi....” 

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her knee, “I know...I know.” 

“Mrs. L/N, you're losing your hearing.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened at this and turned towards Yoongi, “What?” 

Yoongi frowned at this, “Babe, you’re losing your hearing.” 

Y/N’s mouth dropped and turned towards the doctor, “How?”

“When you hit your head from the car accident. I’m estimating that in a year, you’ll be deaf.” 

That’s when her life was restarted. She slowly couldn’t hear the melodies that Yoongi made in his studio or him rapping away with pure passion. She could hear small sounds but not the full sounds. It was heartbreaking for her in the beginning. The piano that Yoongi gifted her collected dust as she covered it with a white sheet. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped her play. 

It was their sixth anniversary and Yoongi had an idea. Y/N entered the room to see him with a guitar and she raised her eyebrow. She shook her head and sat in front of him with a frown. She signed to him as he watched with knowing eyes, “I can’t hear.” 

He gave her a small smile and nodded his head, “I know but...I bought this speaker so you can feel the vibrations.” 

She tilted her head at the special set up behind him and back at him, “An electric piano?”

Yoongi nodded his head in excitement, “I had the guy make sure that it was loud enough for you to feel the vibration.” 

A small tear escaped her eye and she watched him finish signing the last word. Her heart felt whole and she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She jumped into his arms and he sat there with a shocked look for a second but then he brought her closer. This was the moment she knew Yoongi was the one for her. True love like this was hard to find. This is what she wanted when she was a little girl. 

She stood in front of him in her white gown and at this moment, all she saw was him. Yoongi looked her up and down with pure love in his eyes. She was dressed in delicate lace and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead making the crowd laugh. He turned towards them and shrugged his shoulders, “I couldn’t help myself.” 

Yoongi took a deep breath and started signing his vows to her as she watched with tears ready to escape, “There’ll be no summer. There'll be no spring, if not for this love of mine. If not for you, I wouldn’t sing anymore. My melody on days that feel so dark. All those crowds and all the music would just fade out if you were gone. You took me out of my hell and you gave me heaven. Y/N, a piano or guitar couldn’t explain how much I love you but I hope my actions do. I can’t wait to be your husband and I want to experience everything with you. I love you so much, my melody.” 

[torchflies]

Hi TG Fandom! 

(I’m currently trapped in the hellscape of trying to finish a year of personal development hours in a week, while studying for four cert tests). 

But!!! Do we remember this quote?

“I've never lost a wingman.”

“You're lucky. Fly long enough, it'll happen. There will be others.”

What if we got to have a Rooster who did? One who has lost a wingman? What if we got a Rooster who became a Maverick to another wingman and another little boy?

Picture this, okay?

Rooster, young, angry and defiant, is at Top Gun and avoiding the piano at the Hard Deck like it has cooties — until one day, the day before he's meant to be assigned a new WSO, he decides to go for it, to play again after everything. 

Instead, he finds a random guy at the piano, one with light blond hair and a rolling laugh, who is messing around with the keys and singing an odd kind of song without any words. The song comes from his chest and throat like a howl, but with more bones than he's ever heard from anything else. So, Bradley asks about it. The guy tells him it’s not a song per se: he's joiking.

He presents a joik of the sky, of the green grass or snow in the winter. It isn't about something, it is something. It’s like creating a watercolor likeness of a person or thing through sound, using his voice. 

“I'm Máhtte Kvitfjell.” He says and at the look on Bradley’s face, he laughs and adds, “They call me Iceland — my callsign?”

“You’re from Iceland?” 

“Nope, Boston — but Norway before that.”

It isn't a surprise to either of them that Iceland is his new WSO. They become inseparable, Landy (because he could never call him Ice) learns everything there is to know about Bradley Bradshaw and he doesn't go running for the hills. He listens and loves and slowly, Bradley begins to heal. He gets to experience bits of Norwegian culture through Landy, but mainly Sami culture. Landy is South Sami, and so are his wife and little boy Loekte. They raise reindeer back home, just like Landy did when he was a little boy. But, dreams of flight led him to joining his grandparents in America when he got older, and eventually becoming Bradley’s wizzo. 

They fly together for years and in the same mission where a hotshot pilot named Hangman, Bradley’s ex, gets his first air-to-air kill — he throws them into an unrecoverable flat spin and Landy doesn't survive his ejection. 

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.” Much? 

So, Bradley is left to mourn his best-friend, his brother, and when Loekte’s mother dies — he's left to raise a ten-year-old alone. 

By the time the uranium plant mission rolls around, Bradley is a grown man with a metric ton of baggage and Hangman gets a brand new wizzo by the name of Loetke “Songbird” Kvitfjell. 

Give me an AU where Maverick gets to meet a Bradley who has felt the same pain as him, and get an adopted grandson too.

One where Loekte is wondering what the hell happened to his calm and level-headed dad — he's having a tantrum, what is up with that? He's forty? 

Just, a patchwork family brought together from loss. 

I need Bradley and Maverick to realize how similar they are and how they both fucked up so terribly. I need no one to be innocent in this situation (except a very normal and well-adjusted Loekte who is trying his hardest to figure out everything his dad won’t say and Iceman Kazansky, who always lives babeyyy). 

🤣 

[lemoncrushh]

You And I

Summary: Alyssa always wanted Harry, so every time he called, she was there waiting for him at the bar. But one night, things shifted between them.

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), maybe a little angst. 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 4.5k+

A/N: Originally written and posted in 2019. Harry x OC, AU, written in first person. Loosely inspired by the Lady Gaga song (not the 1D song lol).

He’d told me to wait for him at the bar. I sat at the corner, nursing a gin and tonic while the band broke down their equipment. I laughed when Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” began playing through the speakers, the line about the old man making love to his tonic and gin poignantly accentuating the scene.

“Fitting, yeah?” chuckled Bruno, the bartender I’d come to know well over the last few months.

I sneered at him as I stirred the little straw in my glass. “I dunno. I was thinking more along the lines of Lady Gaga.”

“Gaga?” Bruno raised a brow.

“Y’know. At the corner of the bar with my high heels on.”

Bruno’s shoulders shook with laughter as he wiped down the bar in front of me. “I’ll put that one on next, darling.”

“Put what on next?” I heard a voice call behind me.

I twisted around on my stool to see Harry stepping off the stage, an easy grin on his handsome face. I returned the smile, happy to get a better look at him. For the first time, the band had opted to wear makeup, something I’d urged them to try before but had never happened.

“You and I,” I teased, swinging one leg over the other. “The Gaga song.”

“Hmm,” he sounded as he approached me. Reaching his hand out, he cupped my chin, lifting it slightly before placing a soft kiss on my painted lips.

“I reckon when it comes to you and I, there will be no putting on…” he paused, a smirk causing his dimple to appear in his left cheek. “Only taking off.”

“Oh Styles, but you do have a way with words,” I quipped in a playful, faux accent.

He let out a giggle then, apparently amused by his own joke. He gave me one more kiss before tapping his hand on the bar.

“Bruno,” he said. “One more shot for the road?”

“Long as you ain’t driving, love!”

Harry eyed me, no doubt silently questioning how many drinks I’d had. In the two hours I’d been at the bar, I’d only had two drinks including the current half-drunk one in front of me. I’d watched Harry and his bandmates drink at least twice as much during their set, in addition to shots that fans in the audience had sent up.

“I’m good,” I reassured him. I was his drive home anyway. It was kind of understood.

With a nod, Bruno poured Harry a shot of dark golden liquid. Taking it in his hand, Harry clinked the glass against mine and downed it in one gulp. Lowering the glass, he smirked again when he caught me staring at him.

“Wha’?” he asked.

“Just looking at you,” I replied. “You look good with eyeliner.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Kinda sexy, actually.”

“You think?” Harry stepped closer to me, loving the attention.

“Indeed,” I continued. Then when Bruno came around and took Harry’s empty glass, I asked him. “Bruno, don’t you think Harry looks sexy with eyeliner?”

“Of course, doll!” he agreed. “Sexy AF!”

I threw my head back laughing and Harry gave Bruno a wink. “Thanks, love.”

“Sing us a song, you’re the piano man!”

At the sound of singing, I turned around again to see Jeremiah, Harry’s drummer walking towards us. The youngest member of the band, he looked so much like Pete Wentz, especially tonight with the black eyeliner.

“All packed up, H!” he told Harry. “Ready to go?”

“Um...no…” Harry tilted his head to gesture towards me. “Alyssa’s here.”

Jeremiah looked from his bandmate to me and then back, the lightbulb going off in his head.

“Oh! Yeah! Right! Sorry, mate! I’ll just…” he pointed behind him, “head out. Good to see you, Alyssa.”

“You too, hon,” I smiled. “You were smashing it tonight.”

“Thanks,” Jeremiah beamed. Then with one last wave, he stumbled over his own feet and left the way he’d come. I giggled at his adorable awkwardness, blaming it on his youth.

Swiveling back to face Harry and Bruno, I took the last few sips of my cocktail which was mostly water by then. The first chords of “You and I” started then, and I lifted my gaze to the bartender who danced with glee.

“It has been a long time since you came around,” Harry quoted the lyrics as he slid his arm around my waist.

“Two weeks, Harry,” I chuckled. “I was sat right here at this bar two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks is a long time t’me,” he murmured, his lips finding the tender spot behind my ear. I giggled softly at the touch which sent goose flesh across my skin.

“I doubt that’s the time frame Gaga was referring to,” I said wryly. “Besides, you want me around more often, perhaps you should ring or text me.”

I heard Bruno make a muffled sound of shock from behind the bar as Harry’s mouth stalled on my neck.

“I reckon I should do that,” admitted Harry.

He stood up straight then, his eyes on mine as I gave him an accusing glare. It wasn’t that I really doubted he wanted me around. But sometimes I needed that reassurance.

“You look beautiful by the way,” he said, though his words were interrupted a bit by the noise of two more lads approaching.

“Alyssa! You made it!” shouted Gavin, the band’s guitarist.

I rose from my stool and hugged both him and Max, the bassist. Two females soon followed, and I noticed the one whom I didn’t recognise wrapped her arms around Max.

“I’m so glad you went with the eyeliner tonight,” I commented. “I don’t suspect you’ll allow me to take the credit.”

Gavin grinned, “Of course, darling, it was your idea.”

“No it wasn’t,” Harry jabbed.

I turned and poked him in the ribs. “Yes it was. Let me have my moment.”

He threw his head back laughing before pulling me to him in a bear hug. I could tell he was drunk, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath, the sweat beneath his shirt, but I didn’t mind. Some of our most fun times were when we could tease each other like this. Still, sometimes I did wish he would just be honest and tell me how he felt about me, rather than always being light-hearted and funny.

Gavin, Max and the girls all got beers from Bruno before he closed up the bar. We all sat and chatted for a bit before saying our goodbyes. Then with a look - that unspoken understanding - Harry stepped off his stool, reached for my hand and followed me out to my car.

“You’re different tonight,” he finally said after a long stretch of silence except for the 90s playlist I had going.

I raised a brow as I stopped at a red light. “How do you mean?”

“I dunno. You just...are.”

I eyed him and then turned back to the road. “I got a new lipstick.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “‘s not that. You just...seem different.”

The light changed and I accelerated, my heartbeat doing the same.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I don’t understand. I’m still me.”

I heard Harry hum, perhaps in agreement. He was quiet again while the music changed from Alanis Morissette to Pearl Jam. I wondered what he meant exactly, though part of me had my own suspicions. Then when I was nearly a block from my flat, Harry reached over and turned down the radio, muting the voice of Eddie Vedder.

“Are we okay?” he asked me.

I stopped myself from giggling, something I sometimes tend to do when I’m anxious or nervous. Instead, I bit my lip and let his question roll around in my head. I pulled up to my building and parked before I finally let out a tiny laugh.

“We’re always okay, Harry,” I said with a grin.

Pulling the key out of the ignition, I opened my car door and stepped out. I half wondered if Harry would actually follow, but as I stepped onto the sidewalk, I heard the slam of the passenger door. Meeting me at the curb, he took my hand and walked with me up the stairs to my flat.

“I don’t have whiskey,” I called after I’d tossed my keys on the table and made my way to the kitchen. “But I have vodka and wine.”

“None for me, thanks,” I heard Harry reply.

“What?” I turned around, my eyes wide. Harry always wanted a nightcap.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Oh.” Now he was the one who seemed different.

“Did something happen, Alyssa?”

Taken aback, I paused a moment and shook my head. “Something...like what? When?”

“Since I saw you last,” replied Harry.

I turned from him, pretending to walk to the refrigerator. Then I changed my mind and took a glass down from the cupboard and poured myself water from the tap.

“Lots of things happen in two weeks, love,” I commented. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

Setting my untouched glass on the counter, I looked back at him. His face was expressionless, though his eyes seemed to reveal a bit more. Perhaps it was the makeup. No wonder they call the look “emo”.

“Tell me,” Harry said softly.

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?” I accused.

He stared at me blankly. “Yeah, baby.”

I snorted. “So, I’m baby now?”

“Alyssa…”

Ignoring the tone of his voice, I sighed and looked away.

“Let’s see…” I began. “I’ve been working a lot. Visited my mum last Saturday. Got my nails done. And bought the new lipstick like I mentioned...oh and I got a new succulent, see?” I reached for my newest addition to my cactus collection to show him. “I’ve named this one Prince because he has a bit of a purple hue to him-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted.

I stared at him, frozen. “Sorry? For what?”

Harry stepped closer to me, taking Prince from my hands and setting it on the counter. “I’m sorry I waited two weeks to ring you.”

“Oh.” I blinked.

Sliding his hands around my waist, he pulled me to him. Tilting his head, he pressed his lips to mine, softly at first. When I responded with my hands sliding up his shoulders, he kissed me harder, with purpose.

“I do like the new lipstick,” he murmured against my lips. I grinned when I noticed some of it had rubbed off onto him.

“You have such pretty lips,” he added, his eyes focused on my mouth. “First thing I wanna do when I see you is kiss them.”

I smiled at his comment, not just from flattery but because I’d always felt the same about his.

“I also meant it when I said you looked beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “So do you.”

Harry grinned then, a sexy smirk. “You like the eyeliner, yeah?”

“I really do,” I nodded. “I think you should wear it more often.”

“I will if you come ‘round more often.”

“You have to ring me, Styles,” I reminded him. “I have a life, you know. As much as you may like to think otherwise, I don’t keep up with your schedule.”

“Maybe I should give it to you,” Harry said, his voice deep with no trace of humour as his hands roamed down to my bum. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“My schedule, I mean,” he added with his own chuckle. “God, woman, what are you doing to me?”

“Me?” I raised a brow.

“Yes, you. You get me all flustered, I dunno what I’m saying.”

“I’m just stood here, Harry.”

“That’s enough.”

I studied his face, trying my best to read his eyes. The green seemed more defined with the black liner, and for a split second I felt my stomach flip. I lifted my hand to touch a curl that had fallen across his forehead and heard him release a breath.

The man was definitely a mystery. For months I’d shown up here or there to see his band play. In between we might’ve had a few dates, but I never felt like what we had was anything serious. We always ended up shagging, and it wasn’t like I regretted it. We definitely had that chemistry, and we were good in bed. But I didn’t think he considered me his girlfriend; I didn’t think he considered me at all. At least, not until he was ready to see me again. And like always, I would be there when he wanted, because I really liked him.

But then he’d turn around and say something like this and I’d get all kinds of confused.

As it was, I had a hard time concentrating myself with his hands on my rear end. His lined eyes kept shifting between my own eyes and my mouth, and I could tell he wanted to kiss me again. This time, however, I was the one to give in, reaching for his neck and pulling him to me.

“Mmm, baby…” he moaned against my lips. He’d called me baby a handful of times before, but it never really meant much to me like it did now. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was...perhaps I was wanting him to feel what I felt. Or just...something.

I let my fingers linger on his chest before I began to unbutton his shirt. I knew where this was headed, but I wasn’t about to stop it. Feelings or no feelings, I wanted him in my bed again.

When I reached the bottom button, our lips broke free and Harry stared at me once again, his eyes now full of desire. At least I had a knack for reading that. Just like in the pub, I took his hand with an unspoken understanding and we walked down the hall to my bedroom.

“You got new sheets,” Harry commented.

I cringed, not sure if I was more embarrassed that I’d left my bed unmade or that he’d been there enough times to notice the sheets were different. Nervously I straightened the pillows before reaching behind me to unzip my dress.

“Let me,” I heard Harry say.

He strode across the room to me, his fingers on the zipper before I could protest. When my dress fell off my shoulders, his hands took its place, pushing it down the rest of the way. I felt the chills down to my toes as I stepped out of my heels and turned to face him.

I reckon I expected him to gawk at me some more like he’d been doing all evening, so I was completely surprised when his mouth crashed into mine. I immediately wound my arms around his neck and he lifted me up and onto the bed. He continued his assault on my mouth while his fingers tangled in my hair at the sides of my head. I could feel his erection through his jeans, the friction a fabulous sensation between my legs. Bending my knees, I lifted my hips slightly as I let out a gasp, the feeling of denim on cotton nearly too much for me.

Harry paused the snogging long enough to sit up and loop his fingers through the sides of my knickers. He looked at my face as he bit his lip. I wondered for a second if he was changing his mind, as this was usually not a part of the scenario where he’d stop.

“Something wrong?” I dare asked.

“Do you want me, Alyssa?”

My immediate reaction was more confusion. He’d never asked me that before. Sure, he’d moaned in my ear or against my mouth on more than one occasion that he wanted me. But he’d never asked if I wanted him. My expression softened and I gave him a smile.

“I always want you, Harry.”

With the tiniest grin and a nod, he pulled my panties down and let them fall on the floor. Then stood at the edge of the bed, he began to remove his own pants. I reached over to the bedside table then where I kept the condoms and pulled one out of the drawer.

“I promise I’ll bring my own next time,” I heard him say.

Lying on my back, I watched him crawl up the bed again.

“Next time?” I couldn’t help but razz him. The first time he’d stayed over, he didn’t have protection, but I did. I reckon after that it was just assumed.

“Yeah…” he lowered his face to mine. “Next time, love. I promise.”

He kissed me softly then, the softest kiss ever. He continued with a second on my chin, a third on my neck, a fourth on my chest…

I lost count after that.

I gripped the sheets underneath me when I felt his breath on my inner thigh. A low moan-like sound escaped my throat as I felt his thumb graze over me where I was already wet and waiting.

“You want me here?” Harry asked.

I barely heard him, his voice was so low and deep. But somehow my insides reacted and I managed to make a sound similar to yes.

I shut my eyes when I felt his tongue on me. He licked me delicately at first, like he was testing the temperature of his tea. I squirmed underneath him until he looped his arms around my legs and pulled me closer to him, his tongue pressing just a bit.

“Harry…” I panted. “Oh god.”

My legs shook around his head while he began to devour me, his tongue working faster. Opening my eyes, I began to watch him, as much as I could at least. I reached down and pushed that one stubborn curl from his forehead and his eyes shifted up, locking with mine.

“‘s that good, baby?” he murmured, barely tearing his mouth away.

I merely nodded, the only thing I could manage at the moment besides coming undone. I bit my finger when he smiled and resumed his task, making me reach the edge.

I tugged on his hair as I came, calling out his name. He nipped at my thighs gently as they trembled before climbing up the bed to hover over me.

For a solid minute or two, he just stared at me. Perhaps he was waiting for me to say something. Perhaps he was waiting for the green light. Or perhaps he was just waiting for me to stop shaking, I dunno. But I swear his gaze was like a magnet. I couldn’t look away.

The eyeliner had begun to smudge a bit from his recent activity. I started to reach up to swipe my thumb underneath his eye when I remembered the condom in my hand. I smiled and raised my brows, offering it to him.

“You still want me, baby?” he asked, taking it from me.

“What did I say?”

“Just making sure.”

Harry uncertainty was definitely something I was not used to, but as I watched him roll the condom on, I wondered if it wasn’t a put-on. He was nothing if not confident.

Situating himself, he kissed me once more before looking into my eyes.

“I always want you too, Alyssa,” he murmured.

Then before I could respond, he entered me fully. I gasped a tiny breath when I realised how deep he was so quickly. Then exhaling through my nose, I wrapped my legs around him.

“Mmm, I love when you do that,” he said.

I couldn’t help but giggle, knowing that was definitely something he liked, and I liked pleasing him. We moved together, a slow, steady rhythm at first. I could already feel my core reacting, my most sensitive spots throbbing.

He lifted his head again and I watched his face, his eyes burning into mine as he began to move faster. I had to unravel my legs from him, lifting my knees to give him more room for thrusts. Then with a groan, he sat back and held my hips as he fucked me hard. I bit my lip to keep my moans at bay, but I couldn’t help it. Dropping my arms beside my head, I cursed and called his name.

“Yeah, baby,” he growled. “So good, innit?”

“Fuck, yes.”

He slowed down then, a low chuckle releasing from his throat. “C’mere.”

I looked at him in wonder as he guided me up and onto his lap. I noticed then that he was perspiring, beads of sweat dripping on his forehead. This time I did reach to wipe them off, but instead Harry took my hands and kissed the backs of them.

“You’re amazing, Alyssa, you know that?”

I beamed at him as I slowly began to ride him.

“You want me, Harry?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck as his gorgeous green eyes looked up at me, the makeup starting to run down one cheek. I didn’t want to wipe it away this time. He looked so sexy.

“Always,” he replied.

I licked my lips and kissed him hard, my tongue wrestling with his. His hands covered my breasts while my hips moved gingerly. Then breaking the kiss, I rode him faster, bouncing on his lap.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned as he moved his hands to my hips for leverage.

“Is that good?” I asked him, just like he’d asked me earlier.

“Fuck yeah, baby, you drive me crazy.”

I watched his face, knowing he was close to unraveling. He let out a few expletives as his fingers dug into my flesh.

“Come for me, baby,” I urged. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to watch him, and just the thought of it made me drip with delight.

“You first,” he shook his head.

I wanted to argue that I already had, and that was enough. But I knew he’d just argue back. This goddamn boy. He was going to make me fall for him, wasn’t he?

I slowed down my pace, only slightly as I needed to rejuvenate. My breaths evening out and heartbeat slowing, I kissed him again. Our lips still locked, Harry grabbed my waist and laid me back on the bed again. Then he lifted my leg and pounded me hard.

“Fuck, Harry!” I screamed.

“Wrap your legs around me, love,” he requested.

I came immediately, the sensation of him deep inside and the sounds of his moans tipping me over the edge. My body trembled beneath his as his breaths quickened in my ear.

“Baby…” he groaned. “Oh, Alyssa.”

The sounds he made as he came were indescribable. This wasn’t our first shag. But it was definitely our first something else.

I lay spent on the dampened sheets, wishing I’d remembered to turn on the fan. Sticky with sweat, Harry rolled off of me, discarded the condom into the nearby bin and laid on his back breathing hard. We stayed like that for a while in silence until Harry surprised me again.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said for the...how many times? I turned my head to look at him, but his gaze was on the ceiling, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text just to let you know I was thinking of you. Because I was.”

My breath caught in my throat but I managed to clear it. “You were?”

“‘Course.” He turned onto his side to face me. His lips were so close to mine if either of us moved only slightly, they would touch.

“How was I supposed to know that, Harry?” I asked just above a whisper. 

Shaking his head, he seemed to consider my question. “I reckon you weren’t. I’m sorry.”

I bit my lip as he leant his forehead against mine and swung his arm across my waist. He hummed softly as though he had a song in his head.

“I wish I’d rung you to talk about your day. To ask about work or your mum. To hear about your adorable succulents.”

His last comment made me smile. “To be fair, you did text me Wednesday. So not quite two weeks.”

“Fucking Wednesday. Jesus, Alyssa,” he sighed. “And a text. How the fuck am I to expect us to be okay when I bloody text you on a Wednesday?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are we okay? Because you kind of have me worried now.”

“Yeah, if I haven’t already fucked it up,” he groaned.

“Harry…I never said you fucked it up. I’m still here. I still came to your show. I showed up and waited at the bar like you asked me to.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Did I really seem different tonight?” I asked.

“Not...well, kinda. You just...didn’t seem like yourself, that’s all.”

“Well then, I apologise, because I thought I was the same as I’ve always been - the same as you want.”

“What I want?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Well, Harry…” I hesitated. “We’ve never really discussed what we want from each other. But I assumed you didn’t want anything serious. We’re like...friends with benefits I reckon.”

“No, we’re not,” he stated.

My jaw dropped as I glared at him.

“I don’t want you to be..." he added.

“What?”

“Baby, I don’t want you to be just a friend with benefits. I want...this.” Harry gestured between us.

“This?”

“Us. You and I. Or, um...you and me, whatever.”

I could feel my heart beating in my chest, and I was sure it was so loud he could hear it. “Seriously?”

Harry nodded, his hand sliding underneath my jaw. “I want you, baby.”

I sighed, tears starting to form in my eyes. Blinking fast, I swallowed hard. “What brought this on?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t mean just sex. I want you, for real. I was gutted when I thought something had changed between us, but then I realised it was my own fucking fault.”

“I don’t...know what to say, Harry.”

“Say you want me too. You and I.”

I smiled as I reached for him, kissing him tenderly and eagerly. “Always.”

Harry’s dimples appeared in his cheeks as he beamed at me. I couldn’t help it. I started giggling.

“Oh love,” I sighed. “Please tell me you’ll continue to do the eyeliner thing. I’m with Bruno. You look sexy AF.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Truth? You look completely fucked. And I love that it was with me. Only makes me want you more.”

“Well, in that case,” he murmured low, pulling my leg across his, “I’ll wear it from now on.”

“Just so I know it’s for me, and not your groupies.”

Harry snorted. “Or Bruno?”

“Eh, I don’t mind so much about Bruno. He’s on my side.”

Harry laughed harder before kissing me across my cheek and down my neck.

“You really are amazing, Alyssa,” he whispered in my ear. “Now...tell me about your succulents.”

“Well Prince is the newest, like I said,” I began, Harry’s mouth continuing its trail down my neck and shoulder. “Mick and Freddie were my first two and they’re still going strong. But Bowie is a bit temperamental…”

Hope you enjoyed!

Please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

dividers by @firefly-graphics