#2 Cellos 2 Faces | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bro-atz · 2 months

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prelude in e minor

in which: your brain tells you to focus on your education, but your heart tells you to focus on professor choi.

pair: professor!san/afab!reader

word count: 4.7k

content: angst, smut, teacher x student relationship (college level, so it's completely legal mind you), san is a cellist, themes of infidelity, soft and sensual, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: ...yes, i know, i write a lot of san angst/smut let's move on... also, i don't recommend listening to the song that inspired the title if you don't wanna cry but if you do, listen to the cello ver

network: @cromernet

taglist: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @aaasia111 @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @dutchessskarma @yourlocaljonghoe apply for the permanent taglist here! professor!series: yunho pt. 1, yunho pt. 2, san pt. 1, san pt. 2, yeosang, seonghwa

He seemed too young to be a professor. It could’ve been because he aged beautifully or something along those lines, but he looked too young to be a professor. That was the only logical explanation you could come with as you gazed fondly at the professor you had come to appreciate greatly.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted.

“Good morning, S— I mean Professor Choi,” you caught yourself before you could address him in the professional manner that he hated.

“Still waking up there?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah…”

“That’s alright. I am too.”

He gave you a small smile that made you want to rip your heart out and hand it to him on a silver platter. You had to slap your cheeks to get it together, making the man laugh at your actions— he thought you were trying to wake up, but in reality, you were trying to slap the improper thoughts in your mind.

The thing was Professor Choi San was more than a music teacher— he was an artist. He created beautiful melodies that entranced you. At first, you thought it was the melodies you were falling in love with, but as you paid close attention to him— you had to because how else were you going to learn?— you started to note the little things like the way his well manicured fingers nimbly glided along the strings, the way his hands danced as he drew the bow across, and the way he was so focused on the gorgeous piece of wood between his legs.

Those little things piled on. During your one-on-one lessons with him, you couldn’t help but admire the way a couple strands of his hair would fall over his forehead. You wanted so badly to trace your finger over the constellation of moles on his cheek and neck, and God, you’d do anything to feel his fingers press into you as they explored the exposed parts of your body.

You slapped your face again, startling the man who was busy tuning his cello.

“D-do you need coffee or something, Y/N?” he asked with a look of shock on his face.

“Ah! No, I’m fine. I’m good now,” you declined.

“Alright. Let’s begin.”

The second you laid your eyes on your sheet music, all the dirty thoughts you had swarming your brain about Professor Choi vanished, and you were focused. Your heart may have wanted the professor, but your brain always made you fixate on your degree. Work first, love second.

“Okay, that was a solid run,” he said with a proud beam on his face. “There’s some sections we could clean up… Can you start at the fermata and end at cut time?”

You nodded and did as he asked, your fingers working effortlessly during the first couple of measures, then you struggled slightly when you got to the run. It was only the run that got you, honestly, because the section after was solid, but after fucking up the run, you messed up the rest of it.

“That gliss is not fun,” your professor noted after you muddled through the rest of that section. “Start slowly. Get the fingerings down for it first.”

That was the issue. You weren’t used to the key signature of the piece, and you had marked up the notes that were in the run, but that simply wasn’t enough. You worked through the notes slowly, but you still kept messing up here and there. Sighing deeply after messing up the run for the nth times, you lowered your bow and cracked your neck, hoping that making yourself less stiff would help.

“Here,” Professor Choi finally spoke up after watching you struggle for what felt like an eternity. He set his cello in its stand and walked over to you, your breath hitching at the sight of him approaching you. “Let’s go over the notes together.”

Your mind was scrambling and your heart was racing when you felt San’s arms wrap around you, one hand over yours on your bow and the other one matching the placement of your fingers. You thought you were going to lose your damn mind especially when you got a good whiff of his cologne, but when you focused on the pages in front of you, your mind returned to work mode.

He ran through the notes painfully slowly with you, his warm touch turning hot and starting to burn a hole through your skin, but you were so hyper-fixated on the run that you didn’t realize how your body was reacting to him. Finally, Professor Choi let go of you, but he stood right behind you as you went through the run all on your own, this time acing it.

“Oh my God,” you turned around and looked at him happily, your eyes sparkling. “I thought it was going to take longer for me to get that!”

“You’re a fast learner, Y/N. Be more confident in yourself,” the professor responded, his body still right behind you.

You gave him a quick nod and turned back in your seat so you could play the run over and over again, your fingers dancing on the strings as you mastered something new today.

Professor Choi returned to his seat, his cello immediately going between his legs before he could even sit properly. He sat and watched as you went through the entire section perfectly. He was in trance until you called his name and asked for the next section.

Those moments when the professor physically helped you learn the sections you were messing up were the moments you lived for. Sometimes, you considered intentionally failing a section just so you could have him near you because you knew that you could never be with him. He was your professor, and that’s all he was ever going to be. And the other thing was that he had that gold band wrapped around his ring finger. It was never going to happen. You just had to settle for these small, stolen moments.

Usually, you were good. Hell, you were fucking amazing and talented; after all, if you weren’t, you never would’ve been accepted into your esteemed college of music. However, you were all sorts of off during this solo lesson.

Why? Because of that man. He always wore a three piece suit that always reminded you of dark academia fashion— he apparently had no idea what that was— but today, he took the jacket and the vest off. The sleeves to his button up were rolled up, exposing his thick, sturdy forearms, and his biceps bulged as he held his cello in place. God dammit, how on earth was his suit jacket able to hide Professor Choi’s insane build?

And so, you were distracted as fuck, and you kept messing up— well, it was a combination of him and the sheet music you were sight reading when you were supposed to have practiced it before the lesson.

“Again,” your professor said, his low voice interrupting the pathetic, quivering notes of your cello.

Professor Choi was a patient man, but you had messed up so many times that you could see the frustration on his face, his eyebrows getting more furrowed by the second.

You took a deep breath and started again, your eyes fixated on the notes on the sheet. You were doing a solid job until you looked up at Professor Choi during one of the rests and saw him standing with his arms crossed over his chest. Your rest went on for too long, and you fumbled trying to get back into the song, only for the notes to come out wrong and really wrong.

“Stop,” he said, startling you so much that you nearly dropped your bow. He took his glasses off— fuck, he looked so good even with his glasses off— and rubbed his temples before sighing and putting them back on.

His eyes met yours, and the second you made eye contact, you noticed the tiny little mole above his eye, your gaze softening as you admired it. “Hey,” he snapped you out of your trance. “Look at me.”

You did as he asked, and your heart skipped several beats. You had never seen this look on his face before, this look of concern with his lips nearly pouting, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes sharp. You could barely breathe normally as he approached you and knelt by your chair.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice a lot softer from the strict tone it was at earlier, making your heart pound faster than the vivace tempo on your sheet music.

Yes. I need you to wear your goddamn jacket before I lose my fucking mind.

“No, Mr. Choi, I’m fine” you replied, your voice nearly cracking and exposing your lie because you were not fine. However, you didn’t have to lie as you continued, “I just didn’t prepare for the piece today. I’m sight-reading it right now.”

“It’s not the piece, Y/N. You’re excellent at sight-reading.” Professor Choi clearly didn’t buy it, a knowing glint shining in his narrowed eyes. “You seem to be distracted. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. I’m just tired, is all.”

“These early morning lessons must be getting to you,” he mumbled, finally letting you off the hook. “We’ll switch your timings to the evening, is that okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Truth be told, you liked the early morning lessons because it allowed you to have the rest of the day to yourself. But, you also didn’t mind the evening lessons, because that meant your lesson could go over time if needed.

“You know,” Professor Choi spoke softly, nearly making you jump as you didn’t realize he was still by your chair. He placed his hand on your knee and said, “You can always come to me if something is troubling you.”

“I know…”

“Good. Okay, let’s just stop here for today. Next week, we’ll meet in the evenings, okay?”

“Okay,” you felt like you could finally breathe the second he got up and walked to his chair across from yours, the knot in your stomach untangling.

“And be sure to have that sheet music perfected.”

Fuck.

“Okay.”

Next week had yet to come, and you were all sorts of antsy in the days leading up. It was just your normal lesson with the same professor, but at least with a morning lesson you were so drained from the night before that it made it easier to focus on lessons instead of fawning over Professor Choi.

You were wandering around campus as you waited for your friends to get out of class— your class ended well before theirs, so you always had time to kill. You decided to head to the campus coffee shop and look over the sheet music for your lesson when you spotted him.

Immediately, your heart tightened. You knew about the gold band, you remember staring at the gold band and thinking how nice it would be if you had a matching one, but you completely forgot that there was a person who had the actual matching ring, and she was standing right next to him.

The woman was beautiful with long, dark, flowing hair that cascaded down her shoulders and back, her looks completely complimenting her husband’s. And then, hugging his waist as he supported her, you saw his daughter, a beautiful blend of both him and his wife.

You knew he had a family. You knew it, but that didn’t stop your heart from weeping. Rather than continuing to wait for your friend, you rushed back to your dorm, and you shut yourself in before leaning against the door and sinking to the ground.

You had no reason to cry. You shouldn’t have fallen for the professor in the first place, and this was the price you had to pay. You should’ve listened to logic, listened to your brain over your heart, and none of this would’ve been happening.

You couldn’t focus on anything at all— it was to the point where you literally just sobbed over your sheet music, your tears staining the pages of the perfectly preserved original sheet. So, you spent the rest of that week throwing yourself a pity party. The image of him, his wife, and his child burned into your eyes and brain, and every time you thought about it, it made you cry all over again.

Why did you have to go fall in love with a married man?

Thankfully, your eyes were not red when you met with Professor Choi for your evening lesson, but your heart still hurt, and your brain was all fuzzy. Worst of all, you didn’t perfect the sheet music as he had asked. Perfect.

You played a grand total of six notes before Professor Choi stopped you.

“Stop lying to me. Clearly, something’s up with you,” he sounded irritated, but his tone was soft, as if he was frustrated not by you, but because of lack of understanding. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

God, you hated when people asked you that. No matter what the circumstance was, the words “Are you okay?” always made you cry. Your eyelashes fluttered as you looked down at your lap in attempt to keep the tears inside without making it clear to him that you were about to start crying just as you had been for the past several days.

But he noticed anyway. He quickly placed his cello on his stand before crossing the room and sitting right next to you. He gently took your cello and bow out of your hands, allowing you to just bury your face in the palms of your hands.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said softly. His hands pulled yours away from your face. He held one of your hands while quickly wiping the tears from the corner of your eye with the other, his eyes filled with worry. “You can trust me.”

“I’m just having trouble coming to terms with some things in my life,” you told him, intentionally being vague to protect your feelings. “I haven’t been able to focus all weekend because of it.”

“Do you want to talk about—”

“No,” you refused before he could even finish his sentence.

“I think talking it through would be help—”

You cut him off again by saying somewhat harshly, “I can’t and won’t talk about it with you.”

You shakily exhaled heavily, tears still filling your vision. You got up and tried to get your things and leave, but Professor Choi wasn’t done with you yet. He got up as well and grabbed your arm, turning you around to face him. He had a firm grip on you, but he made sure not to hurt you— he just didn’t want you to run away.

“What do you mean?” he asked you, his voice full of hurt. “Why can’t you talk to me about it?”

You kept quiet and avoided eye contact. You just wanted to get out of there and get away from him before you completely broke down. Yet, you couldn’t because he had both your arms pinned on either side of you, his firm hold on you making it impossible to get away from him.

“It’s because of me, right?”

You pressed your lips together and gave up. You gave up trying to get away, trying to not cry, and trying to deny your feelings. You responded with a tiny nod. Professor Choi let go of you immediately, a sudden realization dawning on him.

“God, uh, Y/N… I’m so sorry— I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. You must be so uncomfortable… No wonder you’re acting like this. I— I thought I was careful in hiding my feelings, but you must’ve realized it… Shit, Y/N, seriously, I’m so sorry.”

His feelings? What? Your eyes dried up immediately and flew wide open, and your brain went from crying to just pure confusion. There were about a million questions you wanted to ask him, but there was only one you could squeak out.

“What?”

“You’re uncomfortable because I have feelings for you, right?”

He… He what? He has feelings for you? He has feelings for you?

“I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

“Then… Why…?”

“Because I’m in love with you, Pro— No, San,” you said his name for the first time out loud.

San exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair. He, too, had a million questions on his mind, but before he could utter any of them, you continued.

“But… I shouldn’t be. It’s wrong, and you’re already—”

“Don’t,” San covered your mouth with his hand. “Don’t say it’s wrong. Don’t say what we both feel is wrong.”

And with that, San moved his hand to your cheek, and he guided you to his embrace. He wrapped an arm around your waist and cupped your face as he gave you a tender kiss charged with all of the feelings he had for you right there in the practice room. You clutched the collar of his shirt as you pushed yourself further into his kiss, his embrace reciprocating by pulling you closer to him.

Everything was a blur after that. The two of you packed up your instruments and left campus quickly, only to end up at a hotel, your shoes flying off the second you entered the room. San was impatient the second you got into the room, but he didn’t rush a single thing. His kisses may have been intense, but in the same breath, they were gentle and kind. He hugged you while still kissing you and brought you to the hotel bed so that he could pin you down, his lips unable to get enough of yours.

He kept sighing your name, his husky voice making you yearn for him more, making you lust for him more. You slipped his tie off and tossed it somewhere quickly so you could start to work on his buttons. San groaned as he felt your fingers graze and move down his exposed chest, your hand going further as you continued unbuttoning. When there were no more buttons left for you, your hand cupped his clothed cock, the huge bulge aching to spring forward. You heard a hitch in San’s breath as you stroked him from the outside, and when you worked on his belt, he dropped his head to the nook of your neck and let out a little laugh along with a pleasureful sigh.

“San,” you murmured as he nuzzled his nose into your neck, his lips leaving faint kisses in the process. “God, San… I want you so bad…”

“Is that so?” he responded in the same register.

He raised his head to meet your gaze, the two of you breathing heavily in unison. You gazed at his face and brought your hand to his face as you looked at the moles on his face, the moles you couldn’t help but love, the moles that you wanted to connect. You started with the one near his eye and lightly trailed your nail along his face to trace across the ones on his face then the ones on his neck. Your eyes had been following the path of your finger, so when you stopped and rested your hand on his neck, you looked to see him softly smiling, his eyes exuding affection. He kissed you again, but it was a slow kiss, a long kiss, a kiss that made shivers run from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” you whispered to him when the kiss ended.

Wordlessly, San sat up, revealing just a sliver of his bare torso. He shed his dress shirt and let it fall to the ground. You stared at him in awe— he had such broad shoulders and a tiny waist, not to mention the thickness of his muscles, his entire being making you want him more and more.

The ethereal view of the stunning man didn’t last long. He moved back towards you and pulled your shirt off, then bra, then pants, then panties. His head remained down by your crotch after he stripped you bare, his finger nearing and teasing your clit while his other hand pushed your thigh upwards, your calf nearly resting on his shoulder.

“You’re even beautiful down here,” you barely heard him say, flushing your entire body with warmth and slight embarrassment.

The second you felt San’s tongue against your clit, your entire body reacted. You gripped the sheets with your fingers and toes, and your back arched, the man’s singular action enough to drive you crazy. He then sucked on your clit as he slid two fingers into your cunt, his fingers spreading inside you the deeper they went. You moaned and sighed loudly the more he catered to you down there, the pleasure starting to build up in your stomach.

As soon as he prepped you enough, San moved away from you, disappointment and slight fear seeping into your brain. He got off the bed and pulled a condom out of his wallet before removing the rest of his clothes. You saw his cock spring up, the thickness and length of it scaring you slightly. You bit your knuckle as you watched him roll it on, his hand stroking his dick slowly as he climbed back onto the bed.

San got back on the bed and knelt between your legs. He continued stroking while placing his other hand flat on your stomach. You watched as he licked his lower lip while rubbing the tip along your folds, and he bit his lower lip when he started pushing into you. He exhaled long and lowly as he fully entered you while you opted for a quiet moan. You could feel his every single movement the deeper his cock drove into you, his girth alone starting a fire in your belly.

His thrust following, however, was not as kind. He had moved his hand from your stomach to your waist, and he was gripping your waist in a way that made you have feelings of desire, a feeling you hadn't felt from another man in a while. He didn’t rut into you with his full force, which made you scared for when he did because the feeling his waist hitting yours already made your thighs sting. Plus, every time he pulled out, you felt like you could feel your walls being ripped out, making your eyes watery. You grabbed the pillow behind your head and tore holes in the pillowcase while you squeezed your teary eyes shut as San started speeding up, short, labored breaths leaving both you and the man.

You felt his hand over yours, making you open your eyes to a tear-blurred sight of San above you. His neatly styled hair was now slightly wet with sweat and shadowing his eyes, and you could see him gritting his teeth as he looked at you with narrowed, lusty eyes. His hands moved to lace his fingers with yours. A tiny bubble of his perspiration rolled down his nose and dropped to your cheek, the heat from the sweat making the blush on your cheeks deepen.

“You…” San sighed as he continued rolling his body into yours. “You’re so beautiful… Exactly how I imagined you would look— Hnngh— under me…”

“San— Ah!” You wanted to respond to him, but he finally used the entirety of his strength to ram his cock deep inside you, the action completely taking you by surprise. You flung your head back and cried his name loudly as he relentlessly thrust into you.

White filled your vision when you felt him hit your cervix, and you could only continue to see white as he leaned further into you, making your back leave the bed and his cock rut into you at a different angle. You came hard, your walls clenching, your fingers squeezing his, your tears escaping your eyes, your arousal squirting out of you.

You thought he would cum, that the experience would be over, but San wasn’t about to let this moment end so fast— he only had the one condom, and he wanted to fuck you longer, harder. He grabbed your waist and lifted you so that he was sitting on the bed and you were sitting on his lap, his cock still inside you and somehow filling you up more than it had when he had you splayed on the bed.

His hands guided you. They went under your ass, and he did most of the heavy lifting for you were still recovering from your first orgasm of the night. You held onto his shoulders and looked down at his face as he looked up at you, the two of you sharing your thoughts wordlessly. You brought your lips to his and let his tongue violate yours. Your hips moved slightly, your body rolling into his as he continued to assist you riding him.

You pushed San’s shoulders back, making him lay on the bed and you on his chest. His hips were still moving, still going, still ramming into yours, and his large hands were holding, groping, squeezing your ass. You, meanwhile, started leaving kisses on his beautiful, olive toned skin. Your hands wandered over his chest, your fingers running over his nipples and making his breath hitch. He groaned deeply and spread your asscheeks as he moved your waist forcefully, his hips continuing to ram his cock into you from below.

“S-San,” you whimpered as you started to see stars cloud your vision. “I’m a-almost—”

San brought one of his hands up to hold the back of your head and bring your face to his so he could kiss you as the two of you came. You moaned and cried softly into his mouth as you felt a deep sigh rumble in his chest. Your pussy and his cock both twitched and throbbed, and when he pulled out, you felt as though you were empty, that you needed him to be inside you to make you whole again.

You wanted to tell him to fuck you again, but before you could, he got off the bed. He helped you to your feet and said quietly, “Go take a shower first.”

There was something ominous about the way he said that, but you listened to him regardless. He showered shortly after you finished yours, and while you were sitting on the bed trying to situate yourself, he emerged fully clothed, a dark look painting his face.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone curt but sorrowful. “We can never do this again.”

“W-What?”

“I made a mistake… I’m sorry. You can stay here tonight since the room is paid for, but make sure you check out in the morning.”

San tried to turn to leave, but you grabbed his arm before he could even take one step towards the door.

“What do you mean? You’re the one who told me not to say this was wrong, so why are you all of a sudden changing your mind?!” you didn’t want to yell at him, but you felt so wronged that you couldn’t help it.

He removed his hand from your arm and looked at you, the affection in his eyes now fully replaced by disappointment and regret.

“I know… I did say that. But, Y/N, I shouldn’t have… It was my mistake, and I don’t want to make it again.”

San turned to leave again, but you hugged him from behind, making him stop in his tracks. You buried your face into his broad back and started crying, your tears staining the fabric of his dress shirt. “I love you, San! I love you, so please don’t do this to me,” you sniffled.

He remained motionless in your embrace, slightly defeated. But, he managed to wriggle out of your arms as he said. “I love you, too; but I also love my family, and I shouldn’t have done this to them. I’m sorry, Y/N. We never should’ve done this.”

The words rang in your ears long after San had left the room. You buried your face in your hands and bawled your eyes out as regret filled your body.

He was right. You never should’ve done it. At least your heart wouldn’t have completely shattered if you didn’t.

#broatz #ateez #choi san #san smut #san x reader #ateez san #choi san ateez #san ateez #choi san smut #ateez smut #ateez angst #san angst #choi san angst #cromernet

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bettyfrommars · 3 months

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees. It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment. There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place. The head maintenance guy. This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from. “Both him and his nephew Eddie. Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light. From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.

“Ready?” She smiled back at you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them.

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face. She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle. You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night.

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them. A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part. Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches. An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something. Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind. You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare. When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down. “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her.

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment. “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music. Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door.

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen. You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach. You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall. “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink. He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene. A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice. “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors. Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction. Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn��t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him. It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes. On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation. He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there. “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest. But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands.

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers. Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action. “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser. Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand. It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.

Eddie could read Lance like a book. A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have. Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back.

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side.

You were not supposed to be there. What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd.

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.

The surfer boy went down

Hard.

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one. You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can. He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty. He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry. “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer. You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum. Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest. He put a hand on the back of your head. “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious. Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed.

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five. “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked. “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one,

but he was gone.

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove. He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins. There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow. The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut. His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks.

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing. He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you.

There was no one there.

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

-------

taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson series #Dirty Metal Summer #Eddie Munson fic #dirty dancing au #eddie munson x reader

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frost-queen · 3 months

Text

The moment I knew // part 8 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine,

@panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cayt0123,

@powwowsworld, @yomamacrusty, @mileyy22, @omgsuperstarg, @helen06dreamer, @misscaller06, @l4venderia, @dracoflaco, @loliakeoghan23, @emotionaldamageemotionaldamage, @reallysparklychaos, @ok-boke, @the-fifth-marauder7, @asgards-princess-of-mischief, @cherrysxuya, @lol6sposts, @cierrajhill, @heheyhey

Summary: During a ball sneaks Tewkesbury his presence more onto you. Almost desperate to be near you. Even so desperate he calls upon your house yet he isn't the only one. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3& part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 9 ]

Candles were dazzling in the bright room. The walls warmed with the comfort of people. The ton bustled together in a room of delight. Chattering chippering up yet not too loud for the music to be overwhelmed. In a corner was the orchestra. The piano forte, violins, cello’s, enough to make the room dance. In the centre ladies and gents were waltzing. Graceful and delicately.

Each in their own world of slowly falling in love or hoping to be. Benedict appeared from between the crowd holding two lemonade glasses up so they wouldn’t get knocked over. He approached with a heavy exhale. Francesca and you turned more towards him. – “Your drinks sisters.” – he said lowering his hands to offer the glasses. Francesca and you took yours.

Benedict joined Colin’s side behind the two of you. Colin looked at Benedict half disappointed. – “What about me dear brother?” – he asked with pouted lips. – “Go fetch it yourself!” – Benedict replied with a sneer. Colin raised his eyebrows playfully at you when you had turned around to listen in to their conversation. – “I’ll fetch mine all by myself than.” – he exaggerated making Benedict roll his eyes.

The dancers came to a stop as the dance had ended. The room emptied as the orchestra began their next song. The first few notes shot up like a rush. Playful tunes that made you supress a squeal out of excitement. You hastily pushed your glass in Colin’s hands. Startled he nearly spilled some lemonade on his gloves.

“Y/n!” – he groaned out as you grabbed Benedict’s wrist. – “Come brother dance with me!” – you called out. Benedict got pulled with you swept amongst the crowd of joining the dance. Francesca came standing at Colin’s side. – “Now you have your drink.” – she said before taking a serious sip. You came to a stop as Benedict nearly stumbled. You positioned him before you and dove right into the dance that had already begun.

Benedict was a bit slower watching those beside him to what he needed to do. He held his hands up as you clapped your hand against his diagonally. You then clasped your hands together and spun around. Benedict started to catch on clapping his hands against yours at the same time making you laugh. You heard laughter from all around you as this dance was not so stiff.

A pleasant folklore dance with lot’s of spins, hops and fun. Tewkesbury’s eyes widened seeing you amidst them dance with your brother. He knew what kind of dance it was. Gulping nervously he very much wanted to join. Looking quickly around he grabbed the first girl’s wrist he saw near him and pulled her without a word into the dance. He forced his way to be beside you.

The couple that were already dancing near you got stopped in their movement, leaving them confused for a brief moment. They cleared the way as Tewkesbury dove right into the dance. He took the girl’s hands facing your back as he followed the dancers go in a circle forwards.

“What an honour my lord.” – the girl said breathlessly. – “Quiet!” – Tewkesbury said to her trying to focus on you. They came to a stop, changed hands and went back the other way. You furrowed your brows looking at the suspicious back of the person hopping before you. – “Is that?” – you muttered before Benedict pulled you to a halt. Clapping your hands against his again. Benedict let you spin under his arm. Benedict then walked over to you to come at your side.

Tewkesbury’s eyes widened as he hastened himself at your side. Taking your hand before the girl he was with could do so. Feeling the sudden warm grip on your hand made you look up. – “My …” – you wanted to address his presence but got pulled to the centre by your brother and Tewkesbury. Each holding your hands as you had formed a circle with the other dancers. Coming together in the middle to then part back to a full circle.

In a confused haze they pulled at you needing you to follow the direction they were going. The full circle going to the left. There was a brief pause before you were pulled in the other direction. There was another stop as you stood lost when Tewkesbury stood before your brother and you before the girl he danced with. – “What are you doing?” – Benedict shout-whispered, clapping his hands against Tewkesbury’s. – “May I dance with your sister?” – Tewkesbury asked before taking a spin as did Benedict.

You and the girl did the steps in silence and confused as to why you were suddenly dancing with each other. – “Please.” – Tewkesbury pleaded as Benedict sighed deep. Tewkesbury took it as an agreement turning his posture away from Benedict and giving the girl a gentle nudge to get her out of the way. You took each other’s hands hopping to the side and back.

You watched Benedict leave the dance returning to your siblings. – “You scared my brother away.” – you teased. – “I asked.” – Tewkesbury responded taking you by the waist. You did the same twirling around with him. – “This is more fun isn’t it?” – he said. – “I’ll decide that.” – you responded trying to supress a smile. Tewkesbury saw the mischief in your eyes knowing you weren’t serious.

He let you twirl under his arm before he pressed his hand on your back and pulled you to his chest. He was a bit too eager making you fall against his chest, needed to have pressed your hand to escape a hard bump. – “Where’s your partner?” – you asked glancing to the side. Tewkesbury pulled you back in by your chin, wanting you to look at him. – “Right here.” – he whispered making you look bashful away. – “Don’t be silly.” – you slapped him against his chest. Tewkesbury took a hold of you dancing around with you. Hastened and energetic that you were out of breath. The music slowed, fading out as the two of you were panting.

Tewkesbury bowed before you as you took a hold of your dress and curtsied. The two of you moved to the side allowing other dancers to join the next dance. – “May I see your hand?” – Tewkesbury asked. – “Wha--- why?” – you responded confused. Cheeks flushed from the heat. – “May I see it?” – he pressed on. You moved your hand up with a taunting smile. Your dance card dangled on the cord around your wrist. – “Perfect.” – He mumbled pulling at the cord. – “Hey!” – you called out as it snapped, dance card now in his hands. – “That’s mine!” – you called out wanting to grab for it. Yet he was faster pulling it back out of your reach. – “I’ll keep this.” – he showed you the card with a smirk.

“If you think you are being charming, you are wrong silly boy.” – you answered crossing your arms. Tewkesbury shrugged his shoulders. – “You can have it back when I’ve claimed all my dances.” – he replied finding it cute how angry you were trying to look. – “You see it has my name on it.” – he continued as you puffed loud. – “Where? I don’t see your name.” – you said tauntingly back looking closer at your dance card just for the dramatics. – “Right here.” – he began moving his gloved finger down your entire card. – “Tewkesbury.” – he spoke slowly as his finger went down.

“It’s in invisible ink.” – he added jokingly. You punched him in the armpit just to stop him from laughing at his own smoothness. – “Au!” – he called out, rubbing the pain area. You stuck your tongue out to him as Tewkesbury did the same just to play with you. He dangled your dance card happily up to tease you even more. – “Stealing girl’s dance cards are we now?” – you heard as Tewkesbury stiffened. He turned, dropping down into a bow at the presence of his grandmother. – “I…I was just…” – Tewkesbury began as his grandmother shushed him.

“Who are you girl?” – she asked narrowing her eyes at you. You dropped into a curtsy. – “Miss Y/n Bridgerton, My lady.” – you introduced yourself. She only hummed intrigued. – “I hope my grandson has his manners.” – she shot him a glare making him swallow nervously. You stepped up, coming a bit in between him and his grandmother. – “He has been more than polite, My lady. A dream as to say.” – you spoke to her. His grandmother hummed intriguingly again before taking her leave. Tewkesbury exhaled relieved once she had gone. The dance card was for your plucking as you took it from him. – “I’ll have this back now.” – you laughed out backing up.

Tewkesbury smiled widely following you trying to take it back from you. You kept backing up till you bumped against someone. It made you gasp, turning round quickly to apologize. – “Enola!” – you blurted out upon seeing it was her you had bumped into. She furrowed her brows. – “You know my name?” – she then looked beyond you putting on a smile to Tewkesbury. – “Viscount.” – she addressed as Tewkesbury smiled nervously back at her. Then the two dots connected. – “Ah you must be the girl.” - she spoke with a giggle at Tewkesbury.

“I can see why he likes you.” – she spoke as Tewkesbury was waving his arms across behind you. - “What was I not to say that?” – Enola said dumbfound just to tease him more. Tewkesbury slapped his palm against his face in agony. You looked back to Tewkesbury who nervously rubbed his hand to the back of his head. – “Y/n!” – you heard, drawing your attention away from him. Francesca appeared from between the crowd making her way over to you. She eyed Enola and Tewkesbury before coming to take you away from them.

You brushed past Tewkesbury letting your hand brush against his. His eyes slightly widened feeling the card being forced into his hand. He closed his hand keeping the dance card by him. Enola came at his side as they watched you leave. Tewkesbury opened his hand and held the dance card up. Letting it twirl in the air by it’s snapped cord. – “You are so in on her.” – Enola teased with a comforting pat on his shoulder. Tewkesbury looked from the dance card to where you had gone.

The next day you were in the Parlor with mama, Francesca, Hyacinth and Gregory. Your brothers had gone out. Just a boring midday. Mama was knitting. Francesca reading a book with less interest. Hyacinth and Gregory playing a game of cards. You sat near your sister, head laid back to stare bored at the ceiling. These calling hours could be so dreadfully boring someday. The time of the day where anyone without an invitation could announce themselves at the house.

Mama had let her calling card known with who would be at home. The door opened as it barely made any of you move. – “Is that how you all spend the day?” – your eyes widened at the voice of your sister. – “Daphne!” – Hyacinth shouted loud dropping her cards immediately. All of you jumped awake getting up to greet your sister. You were hugging her when the duke dropped in with Augie. Augie now at the age of three he held Simon’s hand.

“Ladies.” – Simon greeted. Hyacinth and Gregory rushed up to him to hug him. Simon let go of Augie’s hand and hugged them tightly back. Francesca picked Augie up to play with him. You hugged your sister tightly as you had missed her dearly. – “You must come more often.” – you told her. – “I know.” – Daphne responded giving you a tight squeeze.

Daphne took your hand and led you to the armchairs. – “Now you must tell me all.” – she spoke. – “There is not much to say.” – you told her. – “Now that is a lie.” – Francesca pitched in as Augie bounced on her knee. – “Is that so?” – Daphne asked intrigued. – “There’s this Viscount.” – Francesca went on. – “Viscount? What Viscount?” – Daphne wanted to know looking curiously and eagerly at you. – “It’s… it’s… not like that…” – you told her a bit unsure of what was happening between the two of you.

Would this simply grow into a friendship or was there room for more from both sides. To be honest Tewkesbury have been giving you mixed signals. All with the whole Enola thing going on. – “Then what is it like?” – Daphne wanted to know more. The door opened once more, this time the doorman entered. He cleared his throat before speaking. – “A visitor for Miss Y/n Bridgerton.” – he called out. – “Me?” – you said confused getting up. – “Well who is it?” – Daphne asked. The doorman cleared his throat again. – “He said Miss Y/n Bridgerton could guess.”

You already had a clue so you left the Parlor to head into the hallway. Your idea had been right. Tewkesbury stood by the door waiting for you. – “Miss Y/n.” – he spoke dropping into a bow. – “What are you doing here?” – you shout-whispered at him. Tewkesbury got startled a bit by the tone of your voice. – “I…I came for you.” – he said. – “My sister is inside.” – you told him a bit panicking. – “Francesca?” – he guessed. – “Daphne!” – you told him. – “I…I just wanted to see you.” – he responded as you kept looking frantically over your shoulder.

“I hope my grandmother had not scared you away.” – he asked when you gave him a gentle nudge back towards the door. You stopped furrowing your brows. – “I…you needn’t be frightened of her. She’s all bark but no bite.” – he told you taking a hold of your hand. – “I promise you.” – he continued as you got lost in his eyes.

Forgetting about your surroundings and only thinking of him. You were so deep into his eyes that you didn’t hear the door open. Till you heard a voice. – “You must be the Viscount?” – Daphne spoke. You jumped out of your skin, pushing Tewkesbury behind you.

“I am.” – Tewkesbury replied politely, moving a bit from behind you. – “And he is just leaving.” – you said pushing him back. – “Wha…no… no Miss Y/n.” – Tewkesbury whispered at you holding you by your wrist as you pushed him back. – “Come back another time.” – you whispered back to him. Desperate to get him away from Daphne yet he stood his ground, not moving quick enough. – “I still have your dance card.” – he whispered back making you look panicking over your shoulder.

Daphne watching the whole display. Tewkesbury holding you by the wrist trying to stay close as you tried to push him out of the house. She tilted her head with an intriguing hum. – “A cup of tea Viscount?” – Daphne called out. – “Yes!” – Tewkesbury called out letting go of you and stepping to the side. Daphne gestured to the Parlor. Tewkesbury went in as you followed behind. In the door opening plucked Daphne at your cheek with one of her glances. The one you feared the most. The one that stated that she knew more than you could see.

“The Viscount!” – Francesca pointed out teasingly. Simon turned his head looking the boy up and down. – “Isn’t it wonderful that he came to visit.” – Daphne said. Tewkesbury glanced over to you, catching your gaze. You held it still for a moment, for a longing moment where you stared into his eyes. Daphne looking between the two of you. – “Y/n tea!” – Francesca called out making you hum loud. You took your leave to set some tea.

Tewkesbury came to sit down in the armchair as Daphne had offered to him to sit. Both Simon and Gregory got up, coming to sit at each his side. Tewkesbury swallowed nervously at the stare Simon was giving him. Gregory smiled rather teasingly at him yet it uneased him a bit. – “You were at the opera.” – Gregory stated. – “I…I was…” – he replied. You returned to give him his tea. Taking a seat by your sisters across from him.

Tewkesbury drank his tea nervously hoping his hands weren’t shaking too much. – “Are you nervous boy?” – Simon asked. – “Simon!” – Daphne hissed at him for trying to intimidate him. Tewkesbury nearly spilled some tea. – “No…no your grace.” – Tewkesbury answered. You smiled sheepishly at Tewkesbury feeling a bit embarrassed by your own family.

“He’s very handsome.” – Hyacinth sitting on the ground in front of him. Staring dreamingly at him. Tewkesbury smiled. – “If you do not marry him then I want to marry him.” – Hyacinth said to you. – “Hyacinth!” – you shout-whispered at her to stop embarrassing you. Francesca snorted loud. – “Alright I believe calling hours are ending.” – you had jumped up, wanting to end the attention on you. – “Are you perhaps feeling shy sister?” – Francesca asked as you slapped a pillow at her head.

You gestured for the door as Tewkesbury followed. In the hallway you waited with him as the doorman opened the door. – “Have a good day my lord.” – you told him pushing him a bit to the door. Tewkesbury stood in the door opening turning back to you. – “Your family is lovely… please do not fear mine.” – he said almost desperately. As if he wanted you to know his rather cold grandmother could do you no harm.

You leaned against the door with your head, curling up a smile. – “I am not afraid.” – you answered. Tewkesbury took your hand and kissed the back of your hand. – “Till our next meeting.” – he told you taking his leave with a bow. – “For that I cannot wait.” – you spoke out of reach for his ears, watching him get in the carriage.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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spookyghouly · 8 months

Text

for those asking about the ghoulette dresses: it was your classic victorian mourning gown. floor length with veils that covered their whole faces—unclear if masked underneath still or if the veils were opaque enough they didn’t use them. personally i think the veils would have been opaque enough based on historical examples we have. think constance hatchaway haunted mansion realness, but make it black and you’ll have a pretty close approximation.

edit: here’s some photo refs off of google that are similar—top right is closest in terms of skirt shape, from what I could see.

edit edit: just to be clear, they only wore these for 1 song! it was the if you have ghosts cover. four ghoulettes total, with 2 playing cellos, 1 on grand piano, and one on either vocals or theremin (I couldn’t tell! if anyone had a clearer view pls lmk!)

#the band ghost #la ritual #ghoulettes #PS IF YOU DRAW THEM PLS TAG ME ILY FOREVER #damn it darcy #saw another post say they also looked like statues and yes i’d agree!! they were standing so still it was eerie (in a beautiful way)

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multifariousqueer · 10 months

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Miles G and Miles Morales Headcannons: Twin Edition

For reference: miles g will be called Milo

A/n: AHHHH ITS GOOD TO BE BACK BABES!!! Ik new fics And pt.2’s are Coming soon, works been a killer and I’ve been going through stuff but it’s good to be back writing for my boys. Requests are closed but opening up soon 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Warnings: none

Miles Morales:

Is like 4 inches taller but makes it feel like 4 feet

Nicer and a bit more approachable

Loves being in pictures and making funny faces

Dog person

Can’t cook for shit but tries so hard for his mom

They have their own little dates and things

His side of the room is a mess

I feel like he played an instrument in the past when he was a kid

Maybe Piano or guitar

He’s a loner by default but he would have more friends if he wasn’t so busy being Spider-Man

He def takes pictures of sunsets from the tips of buildings

Used to color code outfits with Milo but stopped when they were 12

Same with baths but they were 7 for that

His side of the room is disgusting. Like shit is crawling

There’s a single chair with all of his stuff on it

He brings Ganke over sometimes but Ganke took a stronger liking to Milo bc he’s chill

“Yeah man idk if i can come. Is Milo gonna be there?”

Milo doesn’t give a shit but secretly loves Gankes company

They chill and play video games

Miles is also better at video games than Milo

Whenever he gets stuck on a level, he hands the controller to him

He’s more affectionate than Milo

Will draw you and touch you more

Very smart but he has his moments

Definitely more book smart then Street smart

Doesn’t know basic things and code within the streets so sometimes Milo has to help him

Overall, he’s a sunflower child and we love him 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Milo Morales

Was def born First but is shorter than Miles and Miles makes fun of him for it

Plays basketball with Uncle Aaron sometimes and he’s pretty good at it

Played the violin or cello at some point in his life

“Don’t forget im older than you” “im sorry is someone speaking?”

Is more violent than Miles but it’s because he’s the Prowler

Takes more time for him to warm up to you but once he does, he’s stuck on you for life

Will spoil you with Gifts

Speaking of… him and Miles get into it regularly over it, when they fight physically they sometimes slip and use their real names

He’s a mamas boy FR. This man loves his mama

Will make fun of Miles for being a no sabes kid

Sometimes, him and Rio will speak in Spanish in front of Miles and he’ll just stare at them hoping to recognize a word

“Hey you said cabròn, i heard that!”

He’s more of a cat person then Miles

Yells at Miles for creasing his Jordan’s

“Nah homie, you gotta apologize to the J’s they didn’t deserve that”

Is a loner by choice whereas Miles is a loner by default

This man hasn’t smiled in YEARSSS

He hangs out with Uncle Aaron more than his dad

He seems like his side of the room would be cleaner than Miles

“Milo! Have you seen my- Oh Nevermind! I found it” “yeah”

Has an rbf but once you get to know him, hes kinda nice

Takes the pictures in the family

Learned to cook from his mom and regularly cooks with her while speaking Spanish

It’s so freaking cute oml. Like if there’s music playing, he will spin her to the music and everything and they will laugh

He’s not a snowbunny lol. He’s down with the brown

He seems like he wears 100 million cologne

Smells better and is more put together than Miles

Overall, he’s more razor sharp

More nonchalant

Definitely is a tad bit jealous that Miles is apart of a spider society

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deonsx · 6 months

Note

Hey!! It's my first time making a request and i was wondering if you could do Fyodor playing a cello and teaching reader how to do do!! (If that's alright of course) Have a lovely day💜

If Fyodor Tries To Teach You Cello

You were in a relationship with your boyfriend Fyodor for 2 years and it was a long process of trying to understand him. It took time for you to trust each other and then you tried to share each other's hobbies, but Fyodor's hobbies seemed opposite to you, but you still couldn't help but try

You opened your eyes slowly, it was dark around you, you pulled the duvet towards you and the light blue and yellow morning light, indicating that it was morning, entered your bedroom. You slowly sat up in bed and looked at your sleeping lover. It was not always possible to see him this vulnerable. You felt lucky. You left a kiss on his hair and got up from the bed, walking down the corridor to Fyodor's. You remembered the big violin in the study, you had no idea what its name was

You walked towards the room and looked around to see that violin. It didn't take long for you to see it. It was clearly the most luxurious item in the room with its size. You knew how much Fyodor loved this violin. You wanted to try it. "I thought I could play the violin" because you couldn't… "Cello" You saw your boyfriend standing at the door, speaking with a giggling voice. You squinted your eyes in surprise. "How long have you been standing there? Was it fun watching me fail?" You let out a tired breath and scoffed but he looked serious he took slow steps closer to you "I didn't think you wanted to learn" he looked at the cello you held in front of him and sat on the chair next to him showing you the moves

You watched him in fascination as he played a song for you, you saw how quickly his hands moved on the cello, you couldn't help but look at him with admiration when you saw how devoted he was to him, his hair fell over his face while he played the cello and after a while, the sound of the violin in the house stopped as you looked at him in admiration. It made him grin. “Did you understand?” He had been showing you a lot of melodies and movements for about 45 minutes, but you only watched his enchanting beauty. You coughed. “Yes, yes, I understand very well.” You muttered to yourself. fyodor curled his lip "So that's it..hmmm" fyodor's eyes shifted to the cello "However, When You Were Watching Me Like A Pervert, You Didn't Seem To Focus On The Cello At All"

Enjoy!

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secret-smut-sideblog · 3 months

Text

Like Real People Do

Halsin x F! Tav

18+ hurt/comfort, tenderness, implied trauma, oral (f!), face riding, fingering (f!), pants cumming (m!), a little shadowheart love at the end. as a treat!

Since fleeing the vampire lord's grasp Tav is settling into a peace she has not known for years. And finds she has a large welcome guest in her perfect exile...

Part 1, Part 2

Laying on her back in the grass she felt... happy. Content. A rediscovered feeling since her escape from his grip. The first gusts of night air tickling her face.

The Selune outpost had become her sanctuary, though she was still hesitant about worship. Seen too many messy gods in the flesh to put her faith in them, killed a few too.

In the weeks she had been there she had gotten stronger, her figure filling back out some. Her face a little less haunted. Even her laugh regaining its power. The life slowly dripping back into her.

Even getting closer to the worshippers, all of them recognizing her and waving hello. Of course they still didn't know who she was, her appearance quite different from the days of defending The Gate, and honestly it worked in her favor.

Of course Shadowheart had been with her every step of the way. Holding her on nights she woke shaking. Encouraged her to eat, bringing her the best fruit, a bowl filled to the brim with stew. Cheered her on as she managed her first few pull-ups in years on a tree outside.

Sitting up to breathe in the heady scent of the orchard, she heard a thud behind her. Turning to see warm hazel eyes filled to the brim with adoration, pack dropped in the grass.

"Tav!" Halsin exclaimed, rushing to her. Scooping her up so easily around her thighs. Holding her up high, close to the heavens.

His face split in a joyful smile as he spun her in a circle.

"Easy!" She laughed, his joy infectious. "You're going to make me dizzy!" As if she wasn't already, her heart lit up like a firework.

A few new scars peppered his face, but he still looked good. Really good.

"Your hair!" Tav marveled, taking a lock in her fingers. "It's long!"

Reaching below his clavicle, the chestnut tresses still deftly braided here and there.

"As is yours!" He smiled, gently pulling her long braid over her shoulder. "Impressive!"

She tried to hide the slight discomfort in her eyes. Her hair still something she hadn't processed yet.

"I'm sorry Tav," Seeing the strain in her face he released her braid, the end swinging back down to the base of her spine. His arm still holding aloft. All soft love in his eyes. "I've been so excited to see you I've forgotten myself."

She knew that he knew there was more to her discomfort, but appreciated the out.

"Oak Father preserve me, you are so beautiful. Memories didnt do you justice." One hand cupping her cheek, arm still supporting her around her thighs.

"Oh Gods, you're already going to make me cry." Tav laughed truthfully, biting her lip. "And you're going to have to put me down eventually."

"Allow me some more, please." He laughed, releasing her far down enough that she could wrap her legs around his middle. "My journey has been long and I've been nearly mad with the thought of drinking you in again."

Gods she missed the deep rumble of his voice, a bow pulled across cello strings. Sending tingles down the back of her skull.

She naturally rested her head on his chest, sighing contently. So warm.

"Please take me inside Halsin."

Laying back in a hot bath she melted under his touch. Strong hands massaging her scalp. The air heavy with lavender, rosemary.

It was almost overwhelming, being showered with so much care. After so long of being nothing but a prized posession to feel so loved was nearly too much.

Aware that she was softly crying again Tav chastised herself. Just be here, be with him.

"Would you like me to stop?" Halsin asked gently, hands slowing.

"No, you're perfect." She sighed, closing her eyes again. "I'm just... not used to this anymore. Being treated so well."

He cupped the back of her head, coming around to look in her eyes. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not physically." She winced slightly, not entirely truthful. Flashes of pale hands. Rough. Taking. "I was looked after. Oh he had endless servants to cater to me but there was only possession there, not care. Not love. I couldn't go anywhere without his approval." She laughed coldly. "Couldn't even decide what I wore. I was a glorified doll. One that he would fuck on the side. Just a thing to be paraded around. To do with as he pleases." She blinked, all of it pouring venomous from her.

"Is this...?" He trailed off, lifting her hair from the back of the tub.

"Yes," She sighed bitterly. "He liked it long."

He circled back behind her, braiding it in strong sure strokes. Kissing each tip of her ears.

She leaned back, suddenly so tired again. Would she ever be truly free of him? Would he haunt her body forever?

A sound of cutting jolted her eyes open. A weight pulling away from her head.

She turned as Halsin held a length of braid in his hand. Nearly a meter of it. The remaining falling gently onto the backs of her shoulder blades.

"Halsin!" She gasped, wide eyed.

"He cannot have you anymore." He said, voice barely above a snarl. Eyes glowing gold faintly.

She stared at him in shock.

Rising out of the tub she held both sides of his face roughly and caught his mouth in hers.

His hand gripping her hip, other tangled in her newly free hair he kissed back with restraint. A low growl reverberating from his chest.

Looping her arms around his neck she stood to go to him. He hooked under her thighs and lifted her out easily, not breaking their hold on eachother.

"Oh I'm getting you all wet." She blushed.

"Small price to pay." He chuckled, laying her down on the bed. Pulling the damp tunic off his wide shoulders.

She looked up at him, a thrill in her chest. Gods she had forgotten that he looked like that.

Tav was not a small person, tall, usually quite curvy and muscular. Filling out her clothes in several ways. Though the dark years had thinned her out significantly she was still not a waifish little thing.

But beside him? She was dwarfed. Still a whole head taller than her and twice as wide.

Crawling down to her he trailed warm up to her neck. Mouth devotional on the soft flesh.

She moaned softly, head falling back. Hands wrapping around his shoulders. Spreading her legs to make room for him between.

His calloused hands explored gently, around her hips, her waist. Up the outer side of her thigh. The touch lighting her up, leaving trails of need on her skin.

He was all slow, savoring. The pace making an ache in her pelvis. Driving her mad.

A soft growl in the back of his throat as she scratched lightly at his scalp. Saw his eyes pull closed. A shiver going down his back.

"Is this okay?" She asked softly. Is it okay that I'm broken goods? That I cant love you like you deserve?

"More than okay. Tav you bless me just being in my presence." He smiled, coming up to look in her eyes. Hand cradling the back of her head. "I'm the luckiest man in Faerun to share a bed with you."

She blinked at him, his sweet words so genuine they stung. Wanted to rip herself into pieces and rearrange them into a person who was better at this.

"Careful with the tender words, I'm all sharp edges now." She tried to joke, swallowed at the lump in her throat.

"I dont scare that easily. You are not too much for me." Leaned in to kiss her reassurance. "On Silvanus I swear it."

She melted into his kiss, eyes closing wet before the tears could escape.

"Please touch me Halsin." She urged against him, moving his wide hand to her breast.

He rumbled his approval, moving his warm mouth to her throat. Kissing, pulling, biting. The soft flesh of her neck his domain.

Calloused fingers brushing against her peaks, making her hips squirm. Back and forth across the pads of his fingers.

The teasing touch making her throb, hips arching up into his. His hard length greeting her seeking.

She felt him shiver again, taking her wrists and pushing them in an arc above her head. Snaring them down in one hand.

His free hand pushing down her front, their eyes meeting as he pressed fingers against her hard mound.

She groaned, eyelids lowering but never leaving his.

"Tell me what you want Tav." He urged lowly, fingers swirling slow sure circles. "Where you need me."

She paused. So long since she had been considered. What did she want?

"Put me on my stomach." She whispered. Shocked at her own words, how sure they tumbled out.

He hooked under her hips and easily flipped her, her shocked giggle eliciting a smile from him.

"Hips up." She grinned into the sheets. She felt comfortable, safe with him. A lightness in her chest under the waves of lust.

His arm pulling up on her hips, gripping her ass briefly. Groaning at the soft round flesh pushing between his fingers.

"Go down on me, please." She hushed. Being so direct making her blush.

"Oh yes," He rumbled, clearly more than pleased to fulfill her request.

His mouth met her cunt, licking hot stripes up her center. She choked out a moan. Hands gripping the sheets under her.

His tongue moving in flat dragging strokes, briefly pushing down into her entrance as he passed it.

Her hips already quaking, toes curling. "Ugh, that's so good." She groaned. Pushing back into his mouth.

He rumbled his pleasure deep in his throat, the reverberations against her making her shudder.

Licking tear drop around her clit, coming down to suckle it into his mouth, tongue pulsing.

She almost collapsed, seeing stars. A near indignant whimper leaving her lips.

He was suddenly gone from her and she looked down, dazed.

He had flipped onto his back, long hair splayed halo around him. Jaw coated in her wetness, his eyes flashed up to hers. Pulling encouragement on her thighs towards his parted lips. Pupils slitted, glowing bright gold.

She needed no further prompting, her thighs releasing to his strong hands.

His mouth pulling her in again, now fully devoted to her clit. Suckling and licking hard and insistent. Hand coming up to push inside her above him. Only two but already filling her to the brim, pulsing hooked fingers.

"Oh Gods," She whimpered, the arousal in her pelvis so full it ached. Both his tongue and fingers almost too much. Her hips moving in time with his worship.

She thought she would go mad, a mewling mess. All decorum gone as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Lewd begging moans muffled into the sheets her face was buried in.

He groaned hard into her, the deep sound unfairly pushing her to near edge.

"Fuck, I'm almost-" She warned, the ache pushing into itself, her limbs hot.

As if the his snarl of approval wasnt enough, his hand snapping down on her ass was overkill. The crack of it on the air joining the indecent sounds of his hungry mouth.

She pulled her arms into her body, white knuckled around the sheets, her orgasm hitting her in great violent jolts. Ripping through her, taloned and merciless. She screamed out muffled incoherent pleas into the mattress. His tongue laving up the cum that pushed thick out of her, clearly pleased with his reward, sighing hungrily into her.

Her body tremored rhythmically to his motions, little gasps leaving her in time.

He slid up over her, cradling her back to his wide chest. "Come here to me." He rumbled, pulling her to fall back onto his chest. Laying them down together.

She fell dumb into him, limbs puddled. Still trying to catch her breath. Eyelids fluttering.

"You didnt," She started weakly, gasped words catching. "We didn't get to you..."

He chuckled warmly, vibrating against her back. "No need, I already did."

She blinked, shocked. Focusing found it to be true, a wetness in his trousers.

"Oh," She marveled. Just her pleasure enough to send him over. Bit back a little proud smile.

"Oak Father sustain me, I dont know how I didn't wild shape." He admonished, gently pulling her hair behind her hair.

Her hair. She took a lock in her fingers, staring down at it.

"Tav I'm sorry I did that without consulting you." He sighed, gentle regret pulling in his deep tone.

"No," She stared, awestruck. "No I love it." Craning her neck to look up at him. "I'll think of you when I see it now. Thank you."

His eyes shone with tears, cupping her face. "You honor me." Pushing a soft kiss into her hairline.

"Hey, no crying." She whispered. Turning to press her head into his chest, letting her weight onto him. His hand threading into hers, secure. "Only I get to be a mess, okay?"

He laughed, his heart steady against her ear. A tranquil drum. Pulling her down, her eyes heavy.

"Can you stay? I dont want to be alone tonight." She whispered, eyes closing. Already drifting. Barely hearing his answer.

"I would want for nothing more, my heart."

Standing quiet at the base of a great tree, Shadowheart slid her hand into hers. Both staring down at the mound of small dirt. The night air chirping with insect song.

"I'll admit it," Shadowheart sighed, defeated. "I dont know what rites to speak at a hair funeral."

Tav smiled, squeezing her hand.

"Here we stand to honor the death of Luscious Locks..." Tav started, tone dour.

"Gone but not forgotten." Shadowheart nodded. "They will be released to the great comb in the sky."

Tav laughed. Knocking her head gently into her silver hair.

Great hands sliding over her waist. "Have I missed the reading of the will?"

She leaned back into him smiling, sighed softly at his all encompassing warmth. "Bad news, you didnt inherit anything. Sorry big guy."

He chuckled, planting a quick kiss on the crown of her head.

"You sure we cant talk you into staying another night?" Shadowheart offered, smiling warmly at him.

"Ah dont tempt me, I've already been selfish staying so long. They need me back home, someone's got to read the children their bedtime stories."

"You'll never hear the end of it, I'm sure." Tav teased, turning to hug him tightly. Burying her face in his chest.

"Thank you." She murmured. "For coming, for being here."

"Oh my heart, knowing you are safe here with us again. That will sustain me for quite some time. I'd love for you to visit some day, if you'd allow me some more of your company." His arms around her so steady and perfect she didn't know if she'd have the strength to pull away. She nodded into him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked low, hand cupping her cheek.

"Mmm okay, just one for the road." She smiled, standing up on toes.

"Of course." He smiled, lips sliding against hers. All smothered fire and longing. A deep hum in his chest.

Pulling away too soon he rested his forehead against hers. Staring deep into her. His love pouring in.

Leaning back with a sigh.

"And you," He boomed, grabbing the back of Shadowheart's neck and planting a strong kiss on her forehead. "Take care of yourself! Of eachother, nothing is more precious."

Shadowheart squeaked, blushing. Tav throwing her a cheeky smile.

Hitching his pack up his shoulders he trailed one more kiss on her knuckles and turned to leave. Waving goodbye good naturedly at the worshippers pretending not to eavesdrop from their windows.

Shadowheart tutted her disapproval, eyes squinting judgment. "So nosy, all of them."

Tav smiled, watching him leave fondly. Turning back to her. "Oh let them have their fun. It can get awful boring around here."

She mock scoffed, hand to chest. "Oh is watching me pray for hours not stimulating enough for you? I'm hurt."

"Well the view is never bad." Tav shrugged, giggling as Shadowheart's hand shot out to pinch her side.

Tav darted around, her agile arms nearly catching her.

"No!" Shadowheart shrieked, laughing loudly. Running down the small ravine, Tav giving chase.

She laughed, breathless. Watching her silver hair bob in front of her. Catching her around the waist in a patch of undergrowth. Both tumbling laughing into the soft ground. Limbs tangled.

Tav kissed her softly, hand cradling her cheek. Shadowheart's gentle moan licking against her lips.

"I think," Tav started, pulling away. "I think I'm happy again." A soft wonder in her voice.

Shadowheart smiled up at her, eyes bright with tears. "And you even got a free haircut."

Tav laughed. "Actually, I think I want to shave the side." She mused, smoothing fingers along her temple. Gaze sliding to her green eyes, mischievous. "Wanna help?"

"Oh yes." Shadowheart's eyes alight, devilish.

"But first. Tell me everything."

Part 4

#halsin eating it from the back as oak father intended 😤#halsin x tav #shadowheart x tav #halsin smut #lyrics from: dust bowl - ethel cain

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huramuna · 3 months

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beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

prev | next

wordcount: 4.8k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features.

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek.

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly.

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter.

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.”

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own.

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that?

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away.

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set.

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive.

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?”

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure.

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you.

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him.

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock.

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand.

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly.

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night.

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet.

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle.

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.”

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.”

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond.

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’.

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it.

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand.

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies.

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape.

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be.

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought?

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you.

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking.

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn.

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been.

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying.

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly.

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–”

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached.

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off.

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes.

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red.

What had you done?

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #beware the sapphire peak #alysmond #alys rivers #alys rivers x aemond #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers x reader x aemond targaryen

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junk-heart · 3 months

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Nrt fandom, I'm here to feed you some Akatsuki band au ideas

(let's be honest, I got inspired by that one fic where Kakuzu organises a b-day party for Fuu, thank you author :")

In my version majority of them are ex classical music neeerds, and now most of them play in an alternative band (probably rock or metal? idk, I'm more of a belief they'd play many genres)

Anyways :

Hidan lead guitar (self thought)

Konan viola->vocals or a support guitar (in school for opera singing, but switches with Itachi during gigs)

Yahiko double bass -> bass guitar

Nagato cello -> song writer

Sasori organs -> music theory (not in the band, but hangs out with the members)

Dei percussion (mostly drums, self thought too)

Itachi violin -> support guitar/backing vocals

Kisame classical guitar -> guitar

Orochi was an ex frontman, they got kicked out

Toby is the only fan they have, never shows his face (is actually a famous idol or something??)

Zetsu is there to watch over him, clearly unenthusiastic about the band, says he's the number 2 fan

More in another post

#akatsuki band au #hidan #deidara #sasori #konan #yahiko #nagato uzumaki

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typingfool · 1 year

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𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐃 ;; wednesday addams

Pairing ;; Wednesday Addams x fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday is the most affectionate when it's time to sleep, much to your dismay.

Warnings: one of Wednesday's death threats.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Maybe a bit OOC but I love that headcannon that Wednesday shows a bit of her soft side whenever she's sleepy, though to very certain people. Enjoy :)

You’ve been pestering Wednesday a healthy amount. Even avoiding your own friends to spend time with her, though, you seemed to have regretted that decision, just a little bit.

In the bed of your girlfriend’s, you laid on your wing to the side, listening to the loud tune of Pathetique outside, as Enid chats with Ajax through the phone. The wing in which you laid on stayed motionless, asleep, that when you reached your hand to feel it, it didn’t feel like your own body, but instead someone else's'.

Wednesday is doing her nightly cello playing, as she did when she first got here. You admired her passion, consistency, and dedication to her schedule. You admired her writing. You admired her creativity. You admired everything about her, flaws and all. You admired her.

“You just don’t know how to show it,” Enid says loudly, probably referring to you more than she refers to Ajax. It made you grimace, seeing as your friend looked out for your emotions that weren’t shown much on display. “But, you know, I’ll notice anyway.” She continued. The feathers on top of your head, that certainly will get you a scolding from Mrs. Davidson, the second normie teacher to teach in Nevermore after the accident with Lauren Gates, felt as if they had melted and left two side-eyeing holes.

“He doesn’t even know you notice.” You looked up, adjusting your position on Wednesday’s bed. It had been a couple of months ever since you were back in Nevermore. Ophelia Hall’s stayed the same, the sense of nostalgia hit your vision, making your wings flutter in response.

Enid stood up from her bed, grabbing her pink snood from the end of her bed. Her hair, unlike before, was much longer now, reaching past her shoulders. Blue and pink are still evident at the ends of it. Her face is more developed yet keeping the innocent Enid Sinclair charm (as Eugene would call it).

“I’m going to Ajax’s dorm,” She secured her phone in her pocket, rummaging through her closet as she pulled out a blue snood. You couldn’t protest with what she said, since the werewolf always deserts you every time, she pries you about something. She left a bunch of clothes on her bed, making it look like gnomes vomited rainbows. “Talk to her,” Enid motioned her head to the window, referring to Wednesday. “And call me when you both are done making out.”

You stood up from your position swiftly, almost making you black out. “You mean making up!” You half-yelled, vision still blurred though enough to see that Enid has gone with the door closed.

As if on cue, Wednesday walked through the spider-like glass, a squeak of noise echoing in the dorms. Her hair still tightly kept in her signature braids, one on each side, both equally parted. Her small, scattered, and cute freckles were much, much visible – probably due to the lack of makeup she wore today.

Speaking of wearing, the clothes she wore are always black. This time she wore a comfortable black tee shirt (she learned her lesson to never wear white shirts over black bras years ago, not that she was going to wear the color white again) and parachute-like pajama, black pants. “Stare at me like that again and I’ll poke your eyes out.” She threatened, papers held in her hand, though from your perspective, they were weapons.

“Sorry… you’re just-” You stopped mid-sentence, a grimace forming in your lips, a small one so as to not drift the conversation apart quickly. “I haven’t been this near you in a while.”

Wednesday’s eyes bore into yours. “I’m 2 meters apart from you.” She didn’t waste any time walking closer, not to you though. She placed her musical sheets in a category of folders, each one of them either being black or transparent.

“Wednesday,” You called, not to test her emotions or lack of eye contact, to simply call your girlfriend. “You say you’re allergic to colors… how does that work?” You asked cautiously, as she dipped down the bed next to you. Your wings fluttered, wrapping around her side subconsciously. She didn’t pull back, leaning in against the soft feathers.

Wednesday began undoing her braid. “I’m not allergic to it.” She answered in a soft tone, yawning under her hands right after. “Just have a different reaction to it than everybody else.” She explained, she stood up to place the hair tie on her desk. She dipped back down her bed, pushing your wing aside carefully as you stood up. She laid on her side, not staring at you.

You didn’t want to pester her any further, although you remembered Enid’s words; talk to her.

In response to her answer, you questioned. The thick air was choking back your questions. At the simplest and shortest eye contact from Wednesday, you wanted to continue. “Why?” was all you could ask, short and curios were your tone. Interested filled your smile.

“Don’t,” She started, gazing down her lap. “Smile like that.” Wednesday stood up from her lying position, crossing her legs. Her eyes locked down her pants, minding their own business.

Wednesday Addams, nothing like her sweet mother from what you’ve witnessed during vacation, she wasn’t exactly like her father too. She is Wednesday. She did not inherit after her parents’, but, as her own personality. The girl who was prophesied to kill an entire school, the girl who changed that said prophecy.

She is brilliant. And you remembered yourself, following after Lauren Gates through the cave. You remember yourself freezing when she was stabbed, not knowing exactly what to do. And a ghost, much like Wednesday herself, healed her every wound. Seeping in through her.

You could still feel Goody Addams in Wednesday Addams. You felt the stronger push and pull through her heart. And it felt even more promising as you are talking to her right now. Wednesday’s energy is strong and complex. Right now, it’s at ease. And it was evident in her body language, shoulders relaxed, legs crossed with one another.

If it didn’t seem like she’s relaxed. Her heavy eyelids were about to shut though she kept it awake, certainly spoke for themselves. “You should sleep,” You whispered, pulling yourself up from the bed, sighing. You could talk to her tomorrow. And you could call Enid tomorrow, as well. If she isn’t in the detention office already.

“Must you go?” Wednesday pulled you lightly from the wrist, showing the frailty in her tone. Sleep caught on with her looks now.

You shook your head, sitting down on the bed, facing her this time. “I can stay…” Your voice trailed, then, you remembered you were talking to an Addams. “If you want me to.”

Wednesday looked conflicted but gave a sharp nod. Her eyes drifted to your wings, leaning in before giving them a light touch. “It’s so soft.” She whispered; voice sleepy. Her body weight leaned in against you. “Why is it so soft?”

You laid down to your side, tapping on your wings for room. Wednesday stared down at you, before she laid down. “They’re called down feathers, y’know like the clouds.” You answered, softly kissing her hair, the bridge your nose tickled.

Your hands were wrapped around her. She kissed your palms lightly. “Sleep.” She commanded and you could not help but oblige. Your wings wrapped around your body and Wednesday's, like a blanket.

The personal warmth cuddled around the room. Before closing off into your dreams, Thing sat on the table. “G’night, bud.” You say, smiling as he formed a small heart with his fingers.

The next day, Enid was in the detention office, smiling as you passed by.

#pax writes 🕯#wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday fluff #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x y/n #wednesday imagine #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair x ajax #wednesday angst

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woneuntonzz · 3 months

Text

what's it like to love ? 𓇢𓆸

anton lee x afab!reader (part 5/5)

• part 1

• part 2

• part 3

• part 4

warnings: cussing!

genre: fluff -`♡´- highschool love

word count: 2.8k words!!

[note!!: hiii i'd just like to quickly say that this is my first post ever and i'm still a bit insecure with my writing, and english is not my first language so bare with me now 🙏 open for any forms of feedback

please do take note that i will take longer to update/respond to anything because of school, thank you!!! ]

[Day 99]

It's been a few weeks since your senior year began, though, the path to take after overcoming highschool is still a little unclear to you. Still, you don't rush yourself.

“Psychology's quite interesting.” you said as your fingers glided through the array of vinyls.

“You wanna be a therapist?” Anton was at the other side of the tall steel shelf that divided the two of you.

Your fingers stopped on a vinyl of your favorite The Smiths song. You walked over to the record player, just in time when Queen had sung the last lines to Don't Stop Me Now. Anton crept up behind you and laid his hands on your shoulders.

“That song reminds me of the time when I first fell for you.” he would whisper in your ear.

You turned your head and looked up at him with raised brows. “Really?”

“Yeah. I've liked you since freshman year. I can remember very vividly. I felt so tired from training at the time and kinda hated that I still had to go to school the next morning. I was sleeping in the classroom during lunch time, and, like, I had my head down and couldn't see anything, then I suddenly heard you singing 'There's a light, and it never goes out'.” Anton sang the last part right into your ear.

When the record started to play the song, you turned around to face him.

“How'd you know it was me if you couldn't see?” you posed him a question followed by a low chuckle.

“That's the thing. I wanted to know who it was so bad, but I didn't know how. I'm still a total loser at the end of the day.” His words got you shaking your head at a mild pace, laughing. “I guess it took me about 3 weeks to figure it out. You would always sing it randomly. At some point I thought you were doing it on purpose to get to me.”

Disbelief was displayed on your face as you looked at him. “Wow, I can't— why would I even try to 'get to you' when you never even talked to me unless you really needed to.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just that —well, I just thought you were like the other girls back then that snuck love letters underneath my desk and stuff.” your smile grew to a cackle that infected him.

The sweet sound of your harmonious laughter and the music marked another halcyon for the two of you to look back on.

“Okay 'Mr. Chick-magnet'.” you joked as you hugged his waist and buried your face in his chest.

As a response, he wraps an arm around your body, and the other would reach behind your head, caressing your hair as the two of you slowly and subtly swayed to the music.

You two have been together for almost 3 months now. Not much has changed since then other than being more open and touchy with each other and no longer caring if people gave you piercing looks for being so enamored towards each other.

The record store would end up being a hotspot for you two —though, it would only be when you weren't able to go to your grandfather's flower fields. The record store owner grew fond of seeing you and Anton lost in each other's visage, and the music. He saw the way you would stare into each other's eyes and wondered what kind of film played in them to cause so much immersion from the two of you.

“I thought it was easy to play the cello.” you mumbled against his chest.

“Yeah. It is, you just don't know how.” you giggled at his light-hearted retort.

You looked up at him with gleaming eyes.

“Am I a bad teacher?” he asked softly.

“No, not at all. I guess I'm just really distracted.” a chuckle escapes his mouth by the end of your answer.

“Distracted by what?” he prodded at you with his words, and his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You grin knowing both you and him already know the answer to that.

“By you.”

He took you to his house after another one of his swimming matches. Well, it was actually his mom who had asked you to come to their home for dinner and drove you along. Anton wordlessly thanked his mom for inviting you over, he wanted to do so himself, but he got scared you would decline.

After dinner, he took you to his room and there you finally saw the cello that would always be in the background when you two facetimed, that he sometimes would play to you through call. He played you your favorite ballad and asked you to sing to it. His mind would adrift from the walls of his room and would follow the mist of your dulcet voice. You loved the way he closed his eyes as he played, and how he'd slowly flutter his eyes open to meet yours. His sobriety shattered as he got drunk in your grace and how your head would tilt to peek in his reverie, and it almost slipped out of his mouth —I love you, but something held him back.

After a while, he would go on to teach you. He'd position himself behind you, and guide your hands with his own. His hands would linger on your skin which made you unable to follow his directions or comprehend anything he said clearly.

After everything that went down, he truly never wanted to let go of your hand as you stepped into the gate of your own home. His smile urged you to drag him along with you, but you resisted, and gave him a quick peck on his cheek before saying goodbye.

“You know when you'd always lecture me on the lessons I can't understand?”

You and Anton were now seated on the little sofa in the store, you laid your head on his shoulder as he played with your hands.

“Hmm~ what about it?” you asked him back.

“At some point I constantly lied about not getting it so you can teach me over and over again.” he says, almost in a laugh, laying his head against yours.

“Are you saying that because I jokingly called you stupid one time…” you felt him frantically shake his head.

“No! I'm being for real.” he laughed.

“Yeah, okay…” you kept your wary tone from which he dragged your hand near his mouth and bit it lightly. “What are you doing?”

You two were giggling against each other. It was only with each other that you reached true serenity. You were lucky to have the record store all to yourselves. It would always be empty —at least at the times you'd visit— as if it was being reserved for the two of you.

————— ୨୧ —————

You sat on your desk, typing out an essay given by your English teacher as an assignment to be submitted the next day. You hopped on a call with your friends who were given the same assignment.

“Our essay topic is just 'memories', she just gave us that word, said nothing else about it and left!” Yuna grumbled.

“Tell me about it. Anyways, what topic was given to your class Y/n?” Liz asked.

“Love. Just love.” you replied, continuously typing on your laptop.

“Dang. That's kinda easy.” you couldn't help but grin at the slight frustration in Liz's voice.

“'Memories' is not that bad. You're both school journalists, you can do it!” you gave them words of encouragement in hopes that they'd start to restlessly type too.

“Okay, okay. Game mode on.”

You couldn't stop your lips from forming a smile as you read through what you had already typed. The only reason this was easy for you was because of the given topic. It gave you the opportunity to give an answer to the life-long question you've had in your head.

“Finally finished! I feel so tired. I'm gonna head out first, I might bang my head against my desk if I don't go to sleep, bye lovies! See you tomorrow!” Danielle yawned before leaving the call.

“Me too guys hehe.” Yuna spoke.

“Y/n? you're still not done?” Xen asked.

“Yep. Just doing revisions. I'll be done in a few minutes.” you were in fact not done, not doing revisions just yet, you just had a lot to say.

“Well, let's end the call and get some sleep. Go to sleep as soon as you finish, yeah?” you looked over to your phone screen and gave Xen a dozy nod. “Okay, bye babes!”

“Bye-bye!”

“See y'all tomorrow!”

You turned your attention back to your essay, deep in thought. An idea suddenly crossed your mind. You would finish your essay, but would end up sleeping way later as your head ran with thoughts about tomorrow.

————— ୨୧ —————

[Day 100]

You woke up to your mom assisting you to the kitchen to eat breakfast. Your temperature spiked up and you felt light-headed the whole time. It was still early in the morning, but you were already receiving sought messages from your friends, including Anton.

You chuckled before getting up from where you sat. You realized it would take you all the strength you had to get to your room to retrieve your laptop, still, you persisted and was back in the kitchen with your laptop within minutes. You hurriedly sent him the file, but then you remembered. You had intended to give it to him after it had been graded by your teacher —as a love letter. It sounds cheesy, but there's more to that. It contains your genuine thoughts and feelings, the big and the small that you languished over, and most importantly, it contains the words both you and him have yet to utter.

It was really only recently when you'd find yourself thinking about it. Maybe it's too early —was enough to shut down your thoughts. It had only been 2 months, but you happily embraced his affection, his words, his voice, his touch, every moment with him felt enchanting to you. You were certain he felt the same and he would often express it with his eyes and the placement of his hands and indirectly if he was being vocal. The shared passion for one another was undeniable, and it only seems to be growing more and more as time goes by that even after the first heated argument you've had with him a while back, you two were able to recover and came out better than ever.

“Eat well hun'. It's better if you lay for the rest of the day.” your mom went over to you to caress your hair.

She had decided to call in sick for work to take care of you today, and you couldn't be more thankful.

You did what your mom advised you to and the whole day, you laid on your bed as you listened to the playlist Anton put together for you for your first monthsary to help you sleep or relax yourself.

————— ୨୧ —————

When you woke up, the sun was already setting. You weren't feeling any better from when you had fallen asleep which frustrated you a bit. You stood up and stayed there for a little bit, feeling dizzy. You suddenly heard a knock at your door. You weren't sure if it was your hazy mind making up the sounds or if it was real, but you still took weak steps to the door to answer it.

“Tonii?” you were engulfed in Anton's arms the moment you opened the door. “Why are you here?”

Anton didn't speak and led you back to your bed.

He had that look in his eyes again. It was the same eyes you saw that night at the flower fields.

“I love you too.”

Your heart was throbbing loudly and it was the only thing you could hear right after Anton's voice faded into your soul.

He didn't wait for you to respond as he knew you were feeling too weak to continuously speak, and so he cupped your cheek with his hand, while the other held your hand as he leaned in for his lips to slowly collide with yours.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was Anton's first time going into the student council office without you. He stood by the printer quietly trying to brush off the student council officers eyeing him as if he was eating up all the printing paper. He immediately rushed out once he got your essay printed.

He still couldn't believe the length of your essay as it was three pages long, even then, he was intrigued and wanted to read what you had put that made it so lengthy.

He decided to stay back in the classroom a little longer when lunch came around. He sat on his seat with his back against the wall next to him and started to read.

What's it like to love? an atypical query to have as a child, as you would think most in the age of innocence could only make time and thought for leisure and the attainment of joy, but young minds are always curious. The very first time I caught a glimpse of love was in the form of a field of flowers…

Anton was hooked and mesmerized with your potency.

…It was from it that I realized that if you truly loved, any ounce of pain, blood, or sweat will be overlooked. I failed to completely understand it back then, throughout my years of adolescence, I've had my fair share of misfortunes when it came to love. I was easily convinced that what I was feeling during those times were love despite the lack of sincerity from those who had taken my heart for granted. It took some time to accept that being 'young and stupid' is not just a phrase being thrown around as an excuse, but it's an indication of vulnerability. I had my time to heal and embarked on a journey to self-betterment, and I thought maybe love is waiting for me at some other point in my life, and this thought would later be contradicted…

Anton flipped over to the next page with a vivid mind.

…I am admittedly afraid of what the future holds. This man that had me smitten was one I never even acknowledged fully until much later. I had no idea what took so long for me to see him when he's been around since I've begun recklessly handing my heart out to others. To think back, if I had handed him my heart back then, maybe I would've been spared from all the tears I have shed because I know he would hold it dearly, close to his own…

…feelings I have never felt before, that I never even knew of, are now all I yearn for when the sky's painted black. It was with him that I understood what it was truly like to be appreciated, to be loved with no conditions. It's a pain to think that it could all disappear with a blink of an eye, but when he holds me close and looks into my eyes, I am assured. What's it like to love? to love, is him. It is he, my love, my one and only. I had liked you for 100 days, and today I declare, I love you, Anton Lee.

Your words plunged deep into his heart. Seeing his name after those words made him feel dazed, warm and just so, so in love. He wanted to see you, to feel you. He looked over to your empty desk and could see the specter of your smile against the light of the sun.

It had seemed as though you had written him a love letter with not much intention of receiving a high mark for your sleepless effort. But even if this task was not assigned, you would still plan on expressing everything you had written to him directly, for the 100th day.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You pushed Anton away gently, and very weakly so. You weren't able to actually make him back away, but he got the message and pulled back.

“You're gonna get sick too.” you faintly voiced out your worry.

Anton bit his lip and proceeded to make the heat in your body rise even more as he smiled. He gently pulled you closer to him, laying your head on his chest and wrapping you with his warm embrace.

“I love you so much.” he uttered under his breath, burying his face in your hair.

You just remained quiet, and snuggled even closer to him. Your arms would lazily make their way around his neck, and you would look up and express your love with your lips once more.

Anton went home with a sanguine tint on his cheeks, feeling so warm and fuzzy inside. Let's just say the warmth would become more literal than figurative, and you would definitely be the one to visit him the next day.

Fin.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#riize #riize au #riize fanfic #anton lee #briize #riize anton #riize fluff #riize x reader #Spotify

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gravedigginbbydoll · 9 months

Text

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey! So this is our first chapter from the perspective of reader! The use of Bug is just as a nickname I find cute. Also pls remember reblogs are appreciated !

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

Chapter 2

Bug’s POV

When the semester started, you thought everything was flowing well. Your job as a Resident Assistant was rewarding though stressful, your professors were generally pretty easy going, and you had signed up for the easiest class to take in order to complete your art credit.

At least, you thought you had.

You had come into the classroom on the first day, only to find empty seats, panic overcoming your senses.

You had quickly emailed the professor, hoping maybe she’d respond soon.

She hadn’t replied until that Friday.

You had opened the email on the desk computer while still at work, trying to complete small tasks and homework while the dorm lobby was quiet. Just reading the first few sentences, you felt your stomach drop to the floor.

The class had been dissolved, not enough students signing up for the History of Women in Art course. You felt panic bubble up in you as you scrambled to email your advisor, forwarding them the email and asking for a meeting to discuss further what to do. You refrained from including a rant about misogyny and how feminine influences were often undermined and ignored, although you felt an itch to do so.

You really didn’t care about it at the moment, truth be told, but were more so worried about graduating soon. You had planned to finish your art elective and put your nose to the grind on your major, working hard to finish within the next year.

You couldn’t start those advanced courses, however, without this last art elective course.

You sighed with relief as your advisor emailed you back quickly, asking you to meet with her on Monday so you could discuss alternative options and classes. You got back to doing your homework and helping residents, humming as you went.

Hopefully, you’d be back on track soon.

“I’m afraid all the other courses are filled up,” She stated, her expression apologetic, her hands folded in front of her like a prayer.

You felt your mouth go dry.

Full?

You could kiss early graduation and your money goodbye. How were you supposed to graduate on time and have your loans forgiven if you couldn’t even do this one measly course?

“There’s gotta be something,” You offered weakly, your palms clammy as you tried to wipe your hands on your jean covered thighs.

She pursed her lips, brows pinched in thought as she sighed. “Well there is one course. It’s got a few spaces empty. But it’s a music course and requires an instrument. It is for beginners though. You’d be at a disadvantage but…”

You perked up, your heart pounding. You were notoriously bad at instruments. You had attempted to take up orchestra in middle school, only to find out that you had zero patience to practice and stick with the skill. Plus, cellos were heavy.

But, you were desperate.

A determined look fell over your face as you nodded.

“Where do I sign up?”

You had signed up for the course, your advisor vouching for you to the professor, who seemed a bit concerned at you coming in two weeks late but had decided to trust you. You rented a guitar from the local music store, The Ghost Note, and picked the cheapest option.

The first day you had come into class you could feel your nerves tingling. You had gotten in, but now you just had to pass. You wouldn’t be too stressed if Professor Howard hadn’t told you about the in person tests they took, which essentially consisted of doing a short set of chords and proving that you could read the sheet music.

You sat down, opening your guitar case and pulling the huge and foreign feeling instrument into your lap. You had settled in when a tumble of limbs and hair rushed into the seat next to you. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, seeing a tall and lean man with unruly curls pulled back into a loose bun throw off a worn out black backpack. He was quite a character, dressed in black ripped jeans, worn out combat boots on his feet, and a faded out Misfits band tour shirt, while a distressed and patched up black jean jacket lay over it. He wore a lot of chains and silver jewelry, his nails painted black in contrast. He seemed to settle into his seat, pulling out his guitar from a case customized in stickers just as much as his jacket, the white paint against the darker and well worn wood catching your attention.

THIS MACHINE SLAYS Dragons, it read in sloppy handwriting, the last word not all in capitals like its predecessors, indicating that whoever had hand painted it had miscalculated how much space they had. You felt a smile tug at your lips. It was clearly a fantasy play on Woody Guthrie’s famous anti-fascist guitar. It was amusing and almost endearing that this very tall and intimidating alternative musician had referenced an old folk singer in the nerdiest way.

You found your mouth opening before you could stop yourself.

“A Guthrie fan, huh?,” You joked, catching his attention.

He looked at you, and you felt your throat tighten and your face burn with heat. Oh. He was attractive. He had full brows set in a slight pinched expression over big doe brown eyes, and pink full lips, slight scruff on his face like he had just forgotten recently to shave. His eyes were scanning you, almost like he was trying to figure you out. You swallowed, your mouth drier than the desert. He opened his mouth to speak right as your professor came up to the front of the class, catching the mystery boy’s attention again.

You sighed in relief, fidgeting in your chair to get comfortable with the large instrument once again and try to calm the fire alight in your chest. Maybe this class wouldn’t be too bad.

You took it back. You hated this class. About 15 minutes in, you felt your fingers begin to cramp and the heat traveled from the back of your neck to the very tips of your ears. The cute man seated next to you had his nose scrunched up and lips pulled down in a frown at every dissonant chord you strummed. You couldn’t help but feel bitter, his fingers gliding over the neck of the guitar as if it was second nature.

What the hell.

By the end of the class, you felt like your hand was rusted metal, all creaky and stiff. You kept flexing your fingers and wincing.

You noticed Professor Howard getting ready to leave and leaped up, walking over to ask about tutoring. You clearly would need help and as much as it killed you to ask for help to learn how to just strum a few strings, you couldn’t risk failing.

“Hey…So I am so grateful you let me in this class, Mr. Howard. I know it’s late and all, what with me being behind two weeks. But I have to be honest, I am not… the most musically inclined. I just was wondering if you have any tutoring, or offer some help outside of class?,” You asked politely, trying to hide your nervous fidgeting.

Mr. Howard furrowed his bushy brown brows, wearing his confusion as clear as day on his face. “Tutoring? For beginning guitar?,” He questioned, his tone suggesting that it was almost as ridiculous as suggesting that male media arts majors stop praising films like Citizen Kane as ‘gospel’. (You’d seen it yourself, once suggesting to a casual date your freshman year that it wasn’t your favorite movie, only to be met with a 30 minute rant about your taste in ‘films’ and how you were ‘uncultured’.)

You felt the embarrassment sink in as you laughed a little, your hands making big gestures as you spoke, a nervous habit. “Yeah, I know. I just struggle with the chords and placing my fingers, and I really want to be successful in this course-”

Mr. Howard cut you off with a gently raised hand and an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I don’t do tutoring. At least not for this course. You are welcome to rent out the space to practice on your own time. Otherwise I suggest maybe approaching a classmate for help,” He offered gently.

Panic settled into your skin, you swallowed as your throat felt tight. You hated talking to strangers and didn’t know a soul in this class. You tried to smile, feeling it falter, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Fuck.

“Please, Mr. Howard, I don’t know anyone in this course and I can’t risk failing-”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he sighed, clearly wanting to help. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Munson would be more than happy to help. He teaches private lessons at The Ghost Note and my niece takes them. He’s probably the best student I’ve had in this class,” He gestured toward the classroom and you turned. It was the mystery man who sat next to you cringing at your playing the entire class, slowly packing away his things. The moment your eyes landed on him, it was like someone hit the gas in his brain, as he shrugged on his bag quickly and briskly walked towards the door.

You nodded and thanked Mr. Howard for his help, backing up slowly to grab your things and race out of there. You grabbed everything, racing out the door, seeing him briskly trying to exit the building. You felt the flutter of nerves as you raced to catch up, your guitar case repeatedly hitting your thighs and definitely leaving a bruise, but you didn’t have time to concern yourself with it.

“Hey! Wait!,” You shouted, the noise echoing in the hallways of the building.

He winced at the noise, but stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around to face you.

You stopped in front of him, your guitar case dropped helplessly to the floor as you were hunched over, getting out the words before you could catch your breath.

“Look, I know I play like shit and my guitar is a very shitty rental, but I need to take this class in order to graduate early, because it’s my last non-major course, and all the other art electives are filled up. Professor Howard said you’re like the most talented student in the class and that his niece has you private tutor her at the music store, and I really really need an A in this class. So…Can you help me? Please?,” You breathlessly spilled out, huffing from having to chase after him, your hands on your knees.

You looked up at him, seeing his clearly irritated expression, his mouth in that frown again. Your eyes begin to sting again as panic overwhelms you and your thoughts race, your hands shaking at your sides.

Well, you're going to fail. You’ll fail, be unable to graduate next year, lose the loan forgiveness, and have to pay for everything out of pocket and maybe even drop out. Long gone are your hopes of being an independent adult and -

He looked down at you, his expression hard at first before softening as he saw you. He seemed to explore your face before biting his lip, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Alright. I’ll help you.”

You exchanged numbers and details with the strangely attractive musician, him typing his name in your phone as Eddie with a little skull and crossbones emoji. You simply wrote Bug with a goofy caterpillar emoji on his very cracked and old smartphone. When he looked at you confused as he glanced at the contact, given that it wasn’t the name you’d told him, you shrugged.

“It’s a nickname I’ve had since I was a kid. Short for lovebug, I guess. That or because I am actually deathly afraid of insects and everyone thinks that it’s hilarious,” You joked, smiling shyly.

He nodded, a slight smirk on his face as he nodded and pocketed his phone. “Well, I gotta head out, but I’ll text you my schedule so we can find a time to practice and work on your fingering.”

You felt your skin grow hot before you remembered that fingering was a term for guitarists talking about moving your fingers while playing chords. You could imagine that your facial expression was something of both horror and embarrassment because Eddie laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his toothy smile revealed the dimples on either side of his mouth.

He walked backward out the doors, giving you a mock salute, the boyish grin still on his face. “Later, Bug.”

You had texted Eddie back and forth a few times, learning that he messaged like an old man. Periods, correct punctuation and full sentences. It would be painful if it wasn’t so amusing.

You had settled on meeting up on Friday afternoons after your shift at your second job, The Recycling Bin, a reused book store. Eddie sent you the apartment complex address and number, letting you know he’d meet you outside the building.

You showed up after work, probably still smelling like old pages and dust, struggling to wrangle the guitar out of the backseat of your tiny car, waddling over to the building he was leaning against the outside of. He had one foot against the brick wall, and a hand rolled cigarette in between his fingers, leaning his head back against the brick to blow the smoke into the air. You felt your chest get tight, your thighs shaking a bit as you walked over. You hated the smell, but couldn’t deny the way that his head fell back, exposing his neck, didn’t make you feel some… things.

He pushed off the wall, looking over toward you and smiling, throwing his cigarette down to put it out with the toe of his boot before walking over. He was dressed in an oversized black sweatshirt with the Hawkins University logo on it despite the mild weather, the elbows hand patched with green flannel to match the dark green letters across his chest. He had his hair down this time, allowing you to see the long curls.

“Hey Bug,” He smiled at you, before glancing down at the guitar case in your hand as if it offended him. His nose scrunched up in a way that reminded you of a toddler grossed out by his vegetables. “You brought that piece of scrap wood?”

You frowned a bit, glaring up at him. “I’ll have you know, Munson, that I rented this from your workplace. So blame your coworkers.”

He nodded, smiling boyishly before taking the case from you, leading the way up the stairs to his apartment. “I actually do,” He joked. “I bet Rick let you rent this thing, he’s always stoned at work.”

You recalled that the man who serviced you did seem a bit dopey, his eyes slightly tinged red. You had kinda written it off as him being tired. You should’ve known better.

When he reached his door, he rummaged in his pocket, fishing out a key and unlocking it. He stepped inside, opening the door wider for you to enter. “Come on in, Bug,” He smiled, allowing you to enter the small apartment, your eyes exploring his space. “Shoes off, please,” He politely chided, toeing off his own combat boots. You did the same, taking off your sneakers to leave you in your socks and placed them neatly by his haphazardly taken off shoes. You looked over toward him, seeing that he was headed with your guitar to the couch, but something else caught your eye. The big scary alternative man who smoked and wore torn and patched up clothes had on black socks covered in red D20 dice, the die of choice for tabletop roleplaying game enthusiasts. You knew this because your friend had briefly been interested in Dungeons and Dragons, talking to you about the game when she had been trying to convince you to join her party. You felt a smile creep on your face as Eddie looked at you confused from the worn out gray fabric couch, his brows furrowed.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?”

You grinned mischievously, walking over toward the couch, and taking a seat.

Eddie gave you a look that read ‘okay, you’re weird’, shaking his head and strumming the guitar while humming, turning the pegs to adjust the sound.

“So…You’re a big fantasy and TTRPG nerd, huh?,” You asked innocently, laughing when Eddie’s head shot up, his cheeks dusted a dark pink.

“What?”

You pointed down at his socks which were slightly hidden since he was sitting cross legged on the couch. “There’s D20’s on them. And your guitar says ‘slays dragons’.”

Eddie huffed, a slight hardness coming over his face, walls coming up. You frowned, not meaning to make him feel self conscious, just wanting to lightly tease him because you thought it was cute. “So what,” he grumbled, paying attention to tuning your guitar once again.

You shook your head, smiling softly, trying to fight the embarrassment you felt at the mistake while wiping off clammy hands on your dark jeans. “No, it’s just… It’s…cute. Like, you don’t try to hide it, even though your clothes read like you’re trying to be big and scary, I guess?” You shrug, feeling nerves swirl in your stomach. “Sorry, that doesn’t make much sense. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

Eddie softly glanced up from his tuning of your guitar, eyes no longer hard but now a soft expression before he glanced back down, messing with the pegs once again. “ S’okay,” He softly mumbled, his cheeks now a soft pink.

You allowed your eyes to travel the apartment as he finished tuning the guitar, his humming providing a soft background to your silence. There was a TV on a dark wooden stand in the middle, and a big progress pride flag behind it. A coffee table sat in front of you and Eddie, on it a few card decks and it seemed like board games underneath. There was a corkboard on the wall by you, covered in polaroids and photographs of Eddie and some other people. Occasionally you spotted places you recognized from town.

On the right side of the corkboard was a white dry erase board that seemed to work as a weekly calendar covered in doodles and two different types of handwriting. You could just barely make out some of the phrases, like ‘Band Rehearsal’ and ‘Basketball Practice’. Some of the board seemed to state what chores were done that week, explaining why the apartment was probably the neatest you’d seen in a while.

“I think I got it,” Eddie stated, interrupting your light exploration of the apartment.

“Awesome,” You nodded, grabbing the guitar from him as he stood, turning toward the hallway.

“Gimme a sec,” He called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back with Guthrie.”

You grinned, amused by the fact that he named his guitar, and after an old folk singer at that.

Eddie came back into the room, sitting down with his guitar in his lap, smiling softly towards you. “Alright kid, let’s get crackin’...”

You had spent about an hour and a half just going over four chords. Your fingers were sore, your hands cramping. You sighed as you finished going over the G chord for the 20th time. Eddie was a much stricter teacher than you expected. He made you repeatedly go through the fingering over and over before even starting to strum, making you start over if you messed up. But it was paying off. You had ended the lesson by being able to go through four chords and barely mess up, only faltering a bit.

You placed the guitar back in the case, sinking into the couch as Eddie chuckled and came back from the kitchen with a glass of water, handing it to you. You gladly took it, thanking him and taking a sip.

“You did good, Bug. Definite improvement from class,” He joked, flopping down on the couch next to you as you set down the drink.

“Yeah, well, I had no idea my guitar was out of tune. Thanks for your help, by the way,” You smiled softly at him.

You both sat for a minute in silence, unsure of what to say, when Eddie’s stomach growled loudly for what you swore felt like a whole minute, causing you both to burst out in fits of laughter, you falling over toward Eddie as he doubled over. His laughter was contagious and caused you to giggle even more, your sides becoming sore as your eyes filled with tears. Eventually, you two caught your breath and you sighed, smiling over at him.

“Wanna go get some dinner? It’s on me.”

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men

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letsquestjess · 2 months

Text

HUNTER

Books and Roses - Part 1 (Hunter x GN!Reader) | A usual day at your job in the library turns into a fateful meeting with Pabu’s newest resident.

Books and Roses - Part 2 (Hunter x GN!Reader) | (18+) You and Hunter go on your beach date where your feelings are brought out into the open.

Rinse and Repeat (Hunter x GN!Reader) | (18+) When Hunter gets injured and needs a little assistance, you help him dry his hair and make him his favourite soup to cheer him up.

WRECKER

Something Sweet (Wrecker x GN!Reader) | While waiting for Wrecker to return from a mission, you decide to use your baking skills to make him a cake. Needless to say, he’s delighted when he sees it.

ECHO

A Thousand Dances for the Stars to Watch (Echo x GN!Reader) | Having spent all day teaching the Batch how to dance, you finally get to dance with Echo and make him a promise you never plan on breaking.

CROSSHAIR

The Call of Home (Crosshair x GN!Reader) | (18+) When Crosshair comes home after another fight, you make a decision that will change your lives for the better.

To Be Held (Crosshair x GN!Reader) | Crosshair struggles with the tremor in his hand, but you are there to comfort him.

TECH

My Symphony - Part 1 (Tech x GN!Reader) | (18+) After Tech hears you playing music, he can't help but listen, slowly falling for the musician tugging on his heartstrings.

My Symphony - Part 2 (Tech x GN!Reader) | (18+) Following your blossoming relationship, Tech takes up the cello and grapples with composing a piece for you.

First Flutter (Tech x GN!Reader) [Request] | Tech's first kiss with you comes as a bit of a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

A New Kind of Understanding (Tech x GN!Reader) [Request] | When Tech notices you mumbling to yourself, he starts to listen to see if he can find the cause.

Your Hand in Mine (Tech x GN!Reader) [Request] | Tech misses Echo, and all you want to do is offer him some support.

HOWZER

Protective Measures - Part 1 (Howzer x GN!Reader) | During diplomatic talks on Ryloth, Howzer is assigned as your security. In the weeks you spend together, unfortunate feelings begin to bloom.

Protective Measures - Part 2 (Howzer x GN!Reader) | (18+) After an assassination attempt, you and Howzer face your feelings for each other before you must inevitably part ways.

Protective Measures - Part 3 (Howzer x GN!Reader) | It has been too long since you last saw Howzer, and after his escape, the first thing he wants is to see you.

TBB x READER

The Bad Batch and Gifts | You decide to treat the Batch to a gift.

The Bad Batch and Wanting Hugs | The Batch want hugs and you're more than happy to give them all the hugs they want.

The Bad Batch and Showing Affection | The Batch all have their different ways of showing you their affection.

The Bad Batch and Sketching Them | You love sketching the Batch and they love seeing what you've drawn.

The Bad Batch and After a Nightmare | After a nightmare, the Batch are there to help you.

The Bad Batch and Reading to Them | The Batch love to hear you read to them.

The Bad Batch and Watching a Sunset | Sunsets can be pretty romantic and the Batch enjoy watching them with you.

The Bad Batch and Reuniting After Time Apart | It is inevitable you will have to spend time away from the Batch, but time apart makes your reunions all the sweeter.

#tcw #the clone wars #tbb #the bad batch #tcw x reader #tbb x reader #clone x reader #tcw x you #tbb x you #clone x reader masterlist #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb howzer #clones x reader #clones x you

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onlybeeewrites · 11 months

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The Violinist

Pairing: x reader

Requested: no

Warnings: none, maybe light sexism

Part 2

———————————————————-

You had not come from a very prominent family. Not near as well known as any of the families of the Ton. Neither were you on the lesser side of money. Your family had more than enough to be comfortable, yet nowhere near the money that was flaunted by the upper class.

No. Instead you reside in a family of musicians. You, surrounded by your three brothers and your father, all enjoy the thrill of performing. They were hesitant to allow you to join them in their endeavors, but with much reassurance they allowed you to join them. The promise was kept as long as you remained in the back, hidden from others while your music echoed through the rooms. They didn’t entirely agree with you playing. A young woman of twenty and three focusing on music instead of finding a husband. But you loved what you did and that’s all that you cared about.

Your well-known family was one of the bands that would preform at the balls through the ton. Set up to one side of the room long before guests we’re ever to arrive, giving yourselves plenty of time to set up and prepare your instruments. You had played the violin. Rather beautifully in fact. Your brothers and Father played the rest of the instruments, some other violins, a cello, and the viola. Together, you all make the most beautiful music.

You had been almost blessed with such a talent from a young age, taking on the violin at about eight and catching on quickly. you were able to hear music and replicate it almost instantly and it was incredible. You absolutely loved it. Your parents had called you a prodigy of the instrument, your elder brothers amazed at how quickly you were able to pick such things up.

This ball was no different. It was about mid season, and the young ladies and gentlemen of the ton were in full sing of the social season of finding the right partner to court. This evening your family had the pleasure of preforming in Aubrey Hall, home to the Bridgerton family themselves. You had heard all sorts of stories about the family both from the whispers of the ball rooms to the scandalous readings of Lady Whistledown. From the rakes that were the eldest boys, to the Diamond that was Daphne, or the bookworm that was Elouise who had seemed to despise these lavish parties more and more with each year.

These people had intrigued you. You have seen people of all sorts within these parties, but those Bridgertons were the most interesting to you. For a family so wealthy, so well-known, they were so kind. It was not like the Culpers where they would stick up their nose at the nearest person who was beneath them. No, they were strangely kind. Though it all made your job much easier.

It never took too long for you and your family to set up and tune your instruments. The servants and such were all rushing around, getting some final arrangements done before all the guests were to arrive.

You, yourself we’re just finishing up your tubing when a younger female voice spoke up behind you, pulling you from your concentration.

“I remember you playing from a few other balls. Are you usually tucked in the back playing?” The voice spoke, causing you to turn to face one of the middle children of the Bridgerton family. Elouise Bridgerton.

You raised an eyebrow before you lowered your head in a greeting. “Miss Bridgerton,” you started before nodding at her words. “I do. I am Y/N Lyndon. I play often at these balls through the social season with my brothers and my father. Though my only place is in the back but I do not mind,” you say, and this leads even more curiosity from the Bridgerton girl.

“Hm. So you’re hidden in the back just playing. Listening to the room. Perfect for….gossip. Is it not?” Elouise then asked, which caused a confused look to come across your face before you had realized what she was insinuating. This laugh caused Elouise to narrow her eyes, “why are you laughing?” She questioned, “it’s because it is true. Isn’t it?”

You shake your head, recollecting yourself before speaking. “Forgive me, miss. Uh no, it is not true. I do not have the luxury of having so much time to write such gossip in the papers as Lady Whistldown does. I spend my time preforming and practicing and I do not have much time to write such things. Though it was a rather clear idea. A preformed hidden in the back? A rather good suspect,” you say before continuing, “though if I do hear anything of Whsitledown I’ll ensure that you are first to know,” you then reassure the young girl.

Eloise huffed softly as she could have sworn that she was close. But she was relieved that you would be able to help though.

Before she could speak, the eldest of the Bridgertons came up and placed his hands on Elouise’s shoulders, “excuse my sister, miss. She often speaks out of turn. Excuse us,” he said and before Elouise could utter another word he pulled his sister away.

You looked to them a bit in confusion, but assumed he either didn’t want Elouise to distract her before her performances, or maybe the Viscount didn’t want his sister interacting with a worker. Either way she didn’t mind. She lowered her head as Anthony came and went, turning and getting settled in her spot just beside her brother.

“You need to stop bothering people with that Lady Whistledown nonsense,” Anthony said as they approached Benedict and Colin as well. The two were already a few glasses of champagne down.

The two shared a look with each other before glancing to the other two siblings, “who are you bothering now with your hunt for Lady Whistledown?” Colin asked in an exaggerated sigh.

Elouise rolled her eyes, “I am not bothering. Just inquiring. And it was Miss Lyndon. The violinist,” she said, subtly gesturing to you who had just started to warm up amongst your brothers.

This seemed to catch the attention of the brothers as they took in your form. Hair done up simply but elegantly and a dress proper enough for a ball. Though it wasn’t anything extremely elegant or very outlandish. It was simple, but it was intriguing. A rather beautiful young lady playing an instrument instead of dancing.

“Intriguing…” Benedict hummed, obviously intrigued by a fellow artist. He was always drawn to such people with such creativeness. Then again, Colin was as well.

The brothers made a note to keep an eye on this certain violinist, hopefully they would see her preforming once more.

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sebsgirl71479 · 1 year

Text

I'm with you

Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized Reader

Warnings: none just absolute fluff.

AN/: I had a dream the other night, and this is the result of it. Most of my dreams consist of some kind of music. The song that this story follows is one of my all-time favorites. Hope you enjoy it purely self-indulgent as you will read. Typed on my phone, so sorry for any mistakes. The picture above is courtesy of nix on Instagram. I'm dedicating this to @christycurlswrites @povlvr

Bucky barnes was a man who loved music. Listened to it whenever he had free time. It was a way of escapism from the life he used to have. Lately, he has had a melody in his head that he can't seem to figure out. It sounds like a song from this time, but not now. So when he goes to the bar that is down the block from his apartment, spends about a good 30 mins going through the jukebox playing songs, hoping he will find it.

Y/N loved music as well. She thinks every type of emotion can be traced to music. Y/N grew up around music, with siblings and parents who constantly had it playing. Weather in their own rooms or out in the backyard while gardening or cooking on the grill. One day, she was fliting around her Brooklyn apartment, putting a few books that she had bought away. When suddenly she had the urge to hum a melody. She sort of recognized the tune, but she kept singing it anyway.

After tidying up her apartment y/n decided to head to her local bar and have a drink or two and talk with the sweet lady that tended the bar sometimes. Making sure she looked presentable y/n grabbed her leather jacket and headed out into the early autumn night.

Tonight was just another night for bucky. After having a quick debrief with Sam and going home to shower and refresh, he headed to his regular bar for another night of figuring out this song in his head. So far, it's been 2 weeks since he started this search. He didn't mind it so much. The bar was good, and the older lady bartender sometimes tried flirting with him, but she only did it because her husband got a kick out of it.

You were sitting at the bar nursing your drink and losing yourself in the music that was being played on the jukebox near you. You look up and a very handsome brunette walks up to the bar top and greets Eleanor, your sweet bartender lady. He orders a beer and goes over to the jukebox and starts entering money and pressing a fee buttons for several songs. You think to yourself 'hm this guy must like music as much as I do.' He heads back over to the middle of the bar where he left beer and sits back and waits for a new song to play.

"Pist Eleanor, who is that man?"

"Oh honey, that's James. Such a sweet but quiet man. I think he loves music more than you dear."

"Oh, I doubt that, but it is nice to know a fellow music lover."

"He's been coming her for a while now, but lately, he said he's had a tune in his head where he can't figure out what the song is. So he comes here plays the jukebox for a bit, hoping he will find the song."

"Well, I hope he finds it. I've had a song in my head all day today, and I'm trying to remember it."

As soon as your conversation ends, you hear a familiar cello playing the beginning of one of your favorite songs. So you start to sing along with it.

Bucky is on his 2nd beer when that same melody he has been humming finally comes through the speakers. When the chorus starts, he hears the woman to his left start singing at the same time. She has the most beautiful voice and even more beautiful face. He can't stop staring at her and Eleanor can see this.

"James, I see you staring. Why do you go and ask her to dance? It's a beautiful song."

"Eleanor, this is the song that's been stuck in my head. When I finally hear it, this woman is singing it as well. Who is she, she's beautiful? "

"That's y/n, she's a music lover like yourself. Go, ask her to dance."

Bucky takes another sip of his beer and finds the courage to walk up to you. As he walks up to her, she gets more beautiful.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to bother you, but you have a beautiful voice. I know this is strange but would you like to dance with me?"

You look up at the brunette and can't stop staring at his stunning blur eyes. Something in you is compelling you to agree.

"This is one of my favorite songs. I would love to."

You take his hand, and he leads you a bit away from the bar. He brings his right arm around your waist while you hold his left hand to the side. You both can stop staring at the other. So entranced with each other.

"My name is James, but you can call me Bucky. What's your name?"

"I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you Bucky."

After a few moments, you let go of his left hand and bring it up to the back of his neck. While he holds you closer by the waist. Still staring each other in the eyes.

"They remind me us, don't you think henry?"

"Yes, they do, darling. I hope these two have what we have."

Henry gives his wife a kiss on the forehead has they continue to watch the two of you dance.

The two of you are in your own world while dancing, the outside world doesn't exist.

"I've had this songs melody in my head for the past few weeks, and I never knew what it was until tonight. Then you started to sing along with it, and I feel like I was meant to meet you because of this song."

"I loved this song when I was younger and have always loved singing it."

"I know we just met y/n, but I feel this pull towards you that I've never felt before."

"I feel it too."

"I want to kiss you so bad."

"Then what's stopping you? "

Bucky leans down and captures your lips in a delicate, sweet kiss. His lips are so soft, and you can taste the bit a beer on his tongue and mint as well. You both feel like you need this is like oxygen to live. You both pull away after a few minutes and press your foreheads together.

"You know, it's not too late. Want to grab some dinner at the diner down the street? They make a great apple pie."

"I'd love dinner. Anything to stay in your presence."

You take each other's hand and walk back towards the bar to close out your tabs.

"Don't worry about your bill kids, its on us. Go have fun."

Eleanor and Henry can't keep the smiles off their faces. Bucky walks over to your seat and grabs your jacket, and helps you into it.

As the two of you walk towards the door, you hear Henry shout back to you.

"Don't forget to invite us to the wedding!"

And with that, you and bucky head onto the streets of Brooklyn. Hopefully, it will be towards a lifetime of love, dancing, and music.

#bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #spotify #Spotify

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