#To any violinist in the room: I tried :'] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovsalvatore · 1 year

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You’re a mess

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha tries to tell herself that she’s not jealous, but it's obvious that's the way she feels while looking at you talking to your friend across the room.

Warnings: +18, Minors DNI! smut, Nat has a penis, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, breeding kink, degradation, praising, hair pulling, spanking if you squint, age gap, infidelity, no aftercare as usual lol, fingering, a bit of edging, marking, choking, rough sex, jealousy and possessiveness.

Word count: 6.5k

a/n: after 3 weeks… here u (finally) go ✰ series masterlist, main masterlist

Natasha tries to pay attention to whatever her wife is saying in front of her, but the way your friend touches your shoulder and sits so close to you distracts her. You haven't noticed yet, but she's been looking at you all night.

Tonight's performance — the one in which you've been rehearsing for weeks — was simply amazing, your first time being a soloist couldn't have been better. However, the absence of your parents in the audience made you a little upset, but you're already used to it, and with all the applause at the end you felt for the first time that you didn't need their approval to do what you like. You just felt proud of yourself, knowing that you can play such a difficult piece so easily, and even better, for hundreds of people and without missing a note.

And of course, there's her. The look she gave you when the last note of the symphony was played is something you want to keep with you for a lifetime. She was also proud, and that's enough for your heart to warm even more with all these emotions you've been feeling lately. Emotions that Natasha feels too, but in a very different way.

As a tradition, every time there's a big orchestra event there's also a celebration dinner, and today was no different. You're sitting on a sofa in the house of one of the producers of tonight's event, listening to your friend chatter about all the tourist attractions she wants to visit during tour.

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, the Maestro is trying not to break the glass of champagne she's holding in one hand, watching you smile at a girl other than her. She's trying to tell herself that she's not jealous, that wouldn't make any sense. But it's a fact that she's hating every second of this interaction between you and your friend. Kate. If she'd known you were that close, she wouldn't have put the violinist's name on the list. She thought you were just friends for convenience, not that outside the auditorium you had a friendship too. She thinks about how you're going to travel the world together, and that the plans she had with you might be interrupted because of your friend. She could even take Bishop's name off the list, but now it's too late, and she knows you wouldn't forgive her for that.

"Natasha?" the redhead takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes for a few seconds before turning her attention back to her wife. This is the first time Maria has appeared at one of the celebratory dinners, and everyone seemed surprised to finally see Natasha's wife. Because she rarely wears a wedding ring, there are people who didn't even know she was married, Maria noticed all the stares and whispers her way, but she decided to ignore it. "Did you hear what I just said?" the brunette asks with worried eyes.

"Hm? What?"

"My god, where did you go?" she giggles, but her wife remains serious, looking your way again and noticing that this time you're the one with your hand on your friend's thigh. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you have to put your hand there? Can't you keep a distance while talking? The Maestro clenches her jaw, starting to get annoyed by it all. She's been holding back for weeks now, trying not to get too close to you so she doesn't end up doing something stupid in front of everyone, she was planning to be with you again only when you guys were far away from this country as it would be safer — not that she minds that much — but she's starting to think that waiting that long isn't the best idea. "I said I think I'm gonna go, I'm kind of nauseous."

That's enough for Natasha to pay all her attention to her wife. "What? Do you want me to take you home?" she's worried, she really is, it's her wife after all. "Did you eat something that made you feel sick? Did you drink something?"

Maria smiles when she sees her wife's concern, and thinks that the Maestro could be like this all hours of the day if she weren't such a busy woman. "Oh no darling, I'm fine, I think it's just tiredness." Natasha nods, but her worry doesn't completely evaporate. "And I'll ask Martin to come get me, I don't want you to leave without even eating the dinner they cooked just for you."

"It's not just for me..."

"Still, you're the conductor, you play the most important role in the orchestra, I'm sure they'll want you to stay even after dessert."

Natasha smiles weakly, and nods her head again. For a few seconds she just focuses on her wife's well-being. They've been married for four years now, not a long time, but not recent either. They've been through a lot together, and even though the marriage is good at times, most of the time they're yelling and throwing all sorts of curse words at each other. Yet, the Maestro sometimes feels bad knowing she's cheating, but it's happened so many times over the years that the guilt just seems to not be a problem for her anymore. She knows it's wrong and she also knows her wife isn't the most faithful woman in the world either, so that makes things less worse. She thinks about what it would be like if she tried to fix her marriage, try to make it work, but as soon as Maria says goodbye with a quick kiss on her lips, and finally walks out the front door, those green eyes end up landing on you again, and she realizes that even if she wanted to she wouldn't be able to stop wanting you. She's fucked, she knows it, but unfortunately for her she's not tired of you yet.

You're laughing out loud at something Kate said, resting your forehead on her shoulder as you try to wipe away the happy tears. Natasha just stares, waiting for you to notice. And that nagging feeling in her chest just grows by the second watching you look so happy without her.

"We could even go to the Eiffel Tower, but everyone goes there, we have to be different from the others, don't you think?" you just nod, trying to forget about the joke your friend told you a few seconds ago, and straighten up on the couch. "But like, if you want to go..."

"I mean, I always wanted to go there to be honest." you look at your phone screen, seeing images of the various places you two can visit in France. It has many interesting museums and beautiful parks. You also think about where you're gonna get the money to be able to do all the things you want during this tour, you expect your parents to support you at least in that. "Hmmm... there's this museum-." you start to speak but frown your eyebrows when you see a message from Natasha appear at the top of the screen. She hasn't texted you since you two exchanged phone numbers a few days ago, you thought she would never send you anything, you're not complaining either.

Maestro: Need to talk to you.

You lift your face trying to look for her among the other guests, and it doesn't take long for you to spot her across the room, already staring at you. You can tell just by looking at her that something is wrong, or at least that something is bothering her. Her gaze shifts quickly to your friend sitting next to you, and for a moment you think that might be it, but of course she's not jealous of you, right? You, on the other hand, couldn't contain that feeling when you saw her wife walk through the front door. You know it's pointless to be jealous of the woman she's literally married to, but you can't help but wish you were in her shoes.

Noticing your delay in responding, Natasha just sends you one more message, telling you that it's really important, and without wanting to keep her waiting, you just excuse yourself to Kate, saying you have an important call to take. As you make your way down whatever hall Natasha is taking you, you pray that this conversation won't take too long, that you'll still have time to eat the dinner they're serving later. Adjusting the hem of your dress you start to feel a little nervous when she stops in front of a door, one of the last in the hall, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into a bathroom.

It's completely dark for a few seconds before the Maestro locks the door and turns on the lights. You lean your body against the wall, waiting for her to start saying something, but she stays in complete silence, staring into everything but your eyes. She hates herself for being like this, she doesn't understand why she can't say what she's feeling. Natasha doesn't want to see you smiling at other girls, but she also doesn't want to admit that she was uncomfortable watching your interaction with Kate.

She doesn't want you to know about this effect you have on her, an effect that even she doesn't fully understand yet. The silence starts to get awkward, and you wish you had the courage to do something, say something, touch her, especially make her feel good since you know that's probably what she wants right now, but you can't do it without her having the initiative. She plays with the lapel of her suit, feeling her heart pounding with all the thoughts she's having right now. She wants to curse you out for sitting so close to your friend, she wants to show you how much she hates the fact that you make her feel this way. But she can't find the right words without her sounding like an obsessed madwoman.

But if she knew that's really all you want to hear, she'd probably say it without a second thought. You want her to show how much she wants you in words, but as proud and selfish as Natasha is, she might never say out loud how she really feels. "So... are you gonna say something or..." you say in a low tone, and seem to try to sink even deeper into the wall behind you when she takes a step forward. She's looking down at your exposed legs as she takes off the top of her suit before throwing it on top of the toilet. She's angry, and she knows that talking about it would be better, but she thinks it's easier to show it with actions. "I..." you swallow hard, feeling her delicate fingers brush over your thigh. "You... I thought you-."

"Shut up."

The words come in a whisper from her lips before you feel them on your neck. She wants to mark you, she needs to know that when others look at you, they'll know that you already have someone. Even knowing that you're not exclusively hers, she kinda feels that way, for her no one but her deserves to touch you, and it may be hypocritical of her to think that way when she literally has a wife, but she doesn't care. Her hand starts to move up between your legs as she moves her mouth to your sweet spot, sucking on your skin with the intention of leaving a mark there. It feels good, but then you remember the way she was looking at you and how something is bothering her, you would even try to talk but you never talk about anything when you're alone, and it's also hard to formulate words when she sucks so hard on your neck, throwing every possible shiver down your spine. "Nat-." you try to push her away realising what she's doing, but she just presses her body even harder against yours, moving her face to the other side of your neck.

Natasha closes her eyes as she works her lips on your skin, marking you without even caring if you would want this or not. She's just thinking about what she wants now, how obsessed she is with your body, and how she wants it to be full of marks made by her. She gets lost in the way your perfume invades all her senses, lifting her hand high enough to get it playing with the lace of your underwear. "I want you." she whispers softly against your neck, trying to tell herself that that's all it is, that she just wants you, not that she needs you. You have to close your eyes tightly as she sucks your skin hard, grinding lightly against your leg for you to feel how hard she already is for you. "Are you gonna let me play with you for a bit, hm?" you're already a mess before you nod, feeling her stop sucking the skin on your neck to just spread kisses, moving up to your jaw, to your cheek, until she pulls away to look into your eyes.

It's strange how her gaze can change so much from one moment to the next, and how each one of them makes you feel something different. You start to remember all the times she looked at you like this even before the first time you were together, and you wonder if she always looked at you with ulterior motives. You feel small around her, and you think that feeling of inferiority you have in relation to her will never go away, but that is not a problem for you either, you even like it.

Biting your bottom lip hard and looking down as she starts circling your clit through your underwear, being able to feel the way your wetness spreads over the fabric. You love the way she doesn't even have to look to know the right place to touch you, knowing that either way she's always gonna take a reaction from you. You don't want to take too long not to look suspicious, but you know you won't be able to stop yourself once she starts. You keep looking down, noticing the bulge that starts to appear in her pants, arching your back in anticipation, but then you feel her fingers squeezing your jaw, making you look at her again. "Eyes on me." she says, wanting you to see that the only one who can make you feel this way is her, she wants you to see the desire she has for you, knowing very well that you feel for her too.

She starts by slowly sliding the fabric of your underwear to the side before you finally feel her fingertip teasing your entrance. She groans at how wet you are, and that only makes you even more aroused. You exhale heavily as she rubs her finger across your slits a few times until reaches your clit, her cold fingertips bringing you to literally heaven. "I love how wet you always are for me." she admits, making slow movements while all you can do is just look into her eyes. She wants to tell you that she doesn't want to see you with anyone else but her, only her can make you feel this good, she also needs to hear you saying it, she needs to be sure of that, or else she'll start going crazy. "You're always so needy." she laughs dryly, putting more pressure and speed on your bundle of nerves. You press your lips together, resting your head against the wall behind you, finding it increasingly difficult to keep looking at her. "Tell me, can anyone else make you feel this way hm?"

You immediately shake your head from side to side, thinking she already knew the answer without even having to ask you. Like, who else could? She was your first, and right now you're not attracted to anyone but her. "Only you." you reply in a breathy voice, gripping her shoulder and unable to contain a moan when she surprises you by sliding two fingers inside you. It really feels like you'll never get used to it, the pleasurable pain whenever you have her inside you is a feeling you can never seem to get enough of. "Fuck Nat-." she lets go of your jaw to press her palm against your mouth, not waiting a second to start fucking her fingers fast into you.

"Shhh, don't make too much noise." even though she would love for everyone to hear how good she makes you feel, she knows the timing isn't the best for her to let that happen. "You'll be nice and quiet for me okay?" you just try to nod your head, the heat starting to build each second with her so close to you, and her fingers feeling so good in your cunt. The way your walls squeeze her fingers just makes Natasha even harder, something her wife can never do that easily. The only way she's been able to have sex with the woman she's been married to for four years is by thinking about you, she wasn't lying when she admitted it to you. And it's not like her sex life with her wife is very active, she always ends up just touching herself thinking about you, and how she didn't want you to be the only person she thinks about at times like that. But that's what happens, and she can't do anything to get you out of her head.

You whimper against her hand, moving your hips forward to match her movements. The way her pupils dilate when looking at you just makes you even more mesmerized by her green eyes, and how you think about them almost every hour of your day. She just really knows how to make you feel like you're in another planet by using literally anything, any way she touches you makes you feel inexplicable things. You feel her pumping her fingers into your cunt, and how her palm slams against your clit with her every movement. You want to move your hand from her shoulder and slide down her body until it stops at the bulge you can feel against your thigh, but instead you just dig your fingernails on her skin, the fire in your abdomen growing by the second with an embarrassing speed

Her cheeks are flushed as her gaze locks on the expressions you make for her, pushing her fingers inside you down to her knuckles. She keeps her movement fast, increasing the pressure of her hand against your mouth every time she senses you're about to moan loudly. "Fuck." she groans at the wet noises, wanting to be inside you so badly, wanting to ruin you like she always does. The Maestro feels her cock pulsing inside her pants, and it’s good but very uncomfortable at the same time, while you roll your eyes, feeling her curl her fingers upward, hitting your weakest spot and bringing you incredibly close to the edge.

“Fuck… I love your pussy.” she gasps and brings her face down to your neck again, leaving nothing but light kisses. “I just love how tight you are and how you clench around me… so fucking hot.” she presses her thumb against your clit as she continues to sink her fingers into you, smiling at the way your sounds are muffled by her hand.

It really takes moments for you to feel the bones in your body losing strength, the way her gaze burns into you leaving your head totally empty. "Hm- Nat-." you mutter against her hand, holding her wrist to slow her movements down a bit, but that's no use, you know if she wants to slow down, she's the one who's going to make the decision, and you're already so close that you actually don't really want her to stop now, your mind is just all blurred that you don't even know what you're doing anymore. It's even getting hard to breathe, but you try to hold it for a few more seconds, something that's practically impossible to do.

She decides to leave one last mark on your neck, flicking her tongue at your pulse point slowly. You're hers, that's what she means when she again pulls away, seeing the red and purple marks on your skin. “You look so beautiful like this.” she wants to push your hair back so she can see her work better, but instead she just keeps stifling your moans, pulling her fingers in and out of your pussy feeling your juices wetting most of her hand. “So fucking pretty for me detka.”

Natasha notices how you start breathing harder through your nose, squeezing her shoulder tightly and moving your hips forward. So she just keeps going until she feels like you're almost there, she feels the heat spreading through her body as it spreads into yours, but as soon as you're ready to come all around her fingers she quickly stops, leaving you totally frustrated and wanting more. She wants to laugh at your disappointed expression, knowing she can do whatever she wants to you, and in the end you'll still thank her for it. "Aww, did I ruin your fun baby?" she smiles, taking her hand away from your mouth, and you finally manage to take a deep breath, feeling her slowly slide her fingers out of your pussy. It's as if she intentionally wants to tease you when she roams her fingers through your folds, avoiding touching your clit as much as possible. She spreads your slits, teasing your entrance and watching as you try to move your hips to get more of her. "Sorry... it's just... I want to have a bit of fun too, you know?"

She looks at you with a pitying look, and when you realize she's going to walk away, you hold her by the shoulder, not wanting her to stop touching you. It just feels so good, and you're practically begging her to let you come. "Oh detka, you're so cute." she gives a sardonic chuckle, finally pulling her fingers away from you and leaving you completely craving for more. Your clit is throbbing, and the emptiness that remains is screaming to be filled again. Taking a few steps back she unbuttoned a few buttons of her white shirt before rolling up her sleeves. You're still leaning against the wall, breathing hard as you watch her lean against the sink. Your eyes get lost in the way only a bit of her chest is shown, and how her skin shines with sweat.

"Come here, why don't you help me with this hm?" she says as she grabs her cock over her pants, you follow the action with your eyes, seeing her fingers still glistening with your wetness. Natasha looks with pride at all the marks she left on you, wishing there were even more, she doesn't know where all this possessiveness came from, but she's not willing to change her mind about the fact that she thinks you're just hers. You flash an innocent smile before taking a few steps towards the Maestro — feeling like you could trip any second because of how your legs shake just from the bit of what she already gave you — replacing her hand with yours over the hard bulge.

She sighs and throws her head back when you gently squeeze her cock, playing with it a bit before moving to the zipper of her pants. Natasha just stares as you pull her shaft out, pressing your thumb into the tip and feeling her pre-cum wetting your fingertip. Her size feels even bigger when you close your hand around her thickness, your whole body reacts just by looking at it, and how much you love when she's using you to relieve herself. You're so needy because she didn't let you come seconds ago that you just want her to use you as soon as possible, you've stopped caring if people will think it's weird that you two disappeared out of nowhere, all you need now is her. When you're about to stroke her length, Natasha holds onto your wrist, and you don't have time to ask her what's wrong before she changes your positions, pressing your front against the sink, while standing behind you, moving the hem of your dress to the height of your hips.

You can see it in the mirror's reflection as she looks down at your body, and you try to prepare for what's about to come before you feel her entering you all at once. Maybe you'll never get used to her size, or maybe it's normal and it will still take time for you to be able to take it without feeling any pain. All you can do is grip the edge of the sink as you struggle to stay upright, feeling every inch of her stretching your cunt. "Oh fuck-." it comes out louder than you wanted, and as expected Natasha goes back to pressing her palm against your mouth while keeping her hips still, just feeling the way your walls tighten around her, and how good she feels inside you.

"Shhh, what the fuck did I ask you huh?" you whine quietly as she moves her hips back, only to move them forward again with a force that seems to make all the walls shake. You're just a squirming mess, not being able to look at her in the mirror's reflection as you feel her body heat burn you inside out. Your breath is already hitching by the time you feel your wetness run down your thighs, while Natasha stays still for a few seconds, before again letting just the tip inside your tight hole, this time using her hand to push your hips back, making you feel her cock entering you all at once again. You grunt against her mouth, but she wants to see you struggling to keep quiet, she wants to see you trying without her help. "I'm gonna put my hand down now okay? But you'll remain quiet, or else I'll have to stop."

She actually lowers her hand to your neck, tightening her fingers around your throat as she finally starts to move inside you. You have to concentrate really hard not to make any noise, gripping the edge of the sink so hard it feels like you're gonna break it at any moment. "Oh look at you." the Maestro says in a husky voice close to your ear, each time your hips meet making a loud noise echo in the bathroom. "You always take me so good, don't you?" her hand goes up a bit on your neck to make you look at her in the mirror's reflection, and you wish she hadn't, because now it just gets harder not to show with your voice how good she makes you feel.

As she looks at you, she remembers the way you were smiling at Kate, and how irritated it made her. She chokes you hard with that thought, as she thrusts deep inside you. She fucks you merciless, just wondering if you're ever gonna leave her for someone else, she squeezes her fingers tight around your throat like she doesn't want you to go anywhere but her arms. "You're only mine to use." she whispers more to her than to you, you're so focused on not screaming with pleasure, not releasing everything inside of you, that to you it's just another thing she says while she's so worked up, with no meaning behind it. "No one else can touch you like this, understand?" the words gets stuck in your throat as she doesn't ease her fingers around your neck, and as soon as you keep silent and don't answer her a loud smack noise invades your ears as you feel your skin burning from the slap she just gave you. It hurts, you never thought she'd really hit you like this, but it really felt better than you could ever imagine. "Do you understand?" she asks again, and you just nod your head, moving your hand up to her wrist to pull it away from your neck, not being able to breathe properly anymore.

It's no use, Natasha just uses even more force, making your vision completely blurred. “Hmmm fuck, you feel so good.” the way she pounds on you makes her shiver at the thought of you taking all of her thickness, how it's so easy to sink everything inside you because of how wet you are. She ends up gasping quietly, slowing down just to feel her sliding inside you, while you just dig your nails into her wrist, asking her to ease her fingers around your throat.

It works this time, at least, but then she switches between gripping your throat to wrapping the strands of your hair around her fingers, tugging hard. The maestro also has a hard time containing her moans, but unlike you, she manages to have more control over it. "Then you better not flirt with other people." now it's just jealousy talking, while Natasha rests her other hand next to yours on the edge of the sink. You don't know whether to focus on how good her cock feels abusing your cunt, the words coming out of her mouth, or how painful is the way she pulls your hair. "You don't want them to know what a slut you are, do you?"

"N-no." you look at yourself in the mirror, and at how your cheeks are smeared by the mascara that runs down your face along with the tears. You also see all the marks she left on your neck, and how ironic it is that she tells you not to show what a slut you are when she makes that obvious to everyone by marking you like that. You feel embarrassed about your state, but even more embarrassed about how close you are. Walls fluttering around her cock, which slips in and out of you with ease. You two are so lost in your feelings that you don't hear Natasha's phone ringing, so focused on your own pleasure that you don't even realize that enough time has passed for them to serve dinner. "Fuck, don't stop, please." you say in a breathy voice, the relief washing over your body when Natasha finally lets go of your hair. You feel her hot breath against your ear as she guides your hand to your own sex, pressing your fingers against your clit, and encouraging you to play with it.

You sloppily try to rub your nerve, feeling like every moment you could collapse with the way her thickness slides through your walls, but after a few tries your hand stops, unable to continue because of the way her cock makes you feel. That also causes the Maestro to stop, and you see the evil smile on her face and how she looks so innocently at you at the same time. "Go ahead, keep going." she asks you gently, her dick twitching inside you as she does her best to keep still. She lets out a shaking breath while resting her forehead on your shoulder for just a few seconds before looking back at you, waiting for you to do as she asked to get back to using you the way she wants. You take time, but also wanting her to fuck you again the way she was doing, you end up sighing heavily, clenching your jaw while you go back to stimulating yourself. It's hard to do though, but even so you make circular movements on your clit, even feeling sensitive you keep going, moving your hips to try to relieve yourself on her.

You thank the universe as she slowly moves inside you again, and you realize she's mimicking your slow rhythm, and you hate yourself for not being able to increase the speed. "Really?" she mocks you, smiling as she looks at you through the reflection. "Gosh, what a pathetic slut you are, don't even know how to touch yourself." she takes your hand again, but this time to press it against your lower back. Even if she wanted to tease you a little longer she wouldn't be able to, so she just pounds back into you hard, sinking her entire length with no care at all.

"Fuck... I bet you can at least come, can't you?" you nod frantically, feeling your body slam against the sink with every thrust she takes inside you. You try to move away a little by the way it hurts to feel your body colliding with the furniture every moment, but Natasha holds you tighter forcing you to stay still. "Yeah of course you can, just a needy fucking whore aren't ya?" you agree with her, didn't even know you get so turned on by those kinds of names until she started calling you by them, and especially now this is just the last straw for you to feel the climax building.

"Please..." you beg her with your eyes, finding it the hardest task of all to hold on for one more second because of the way she fucks you so hard, and for the Maestro is no different, she feels the first drops of her cum starting to release inside if you, and that encourages her to keep going. “Please Nat-.”

"Please what?" she purposely breathes heavily into your ear, feeling the way your walls spasm and contract around her dick, and how she knows she won't last much longer either. "Do you wanna come?" you nod, muscles tensing unbearably. "Fuck baby... want me to come with you hm? Want me to breed your pussy so good? Fill you up with my cum?" you just keep nodding over and over again before the orgasm slams against your body, Natasha following you right after and emptying herself inside you. “Fuck… that’s it baby.” you feel all the strength you had in your legs fading away, and the only way you find to stay on your feet is the way she holds you. She bites your shoulder to stop her moaning too loudly and you also have to control yourself not to make any noise. You feel it until her last load is released into your pussy, and how she just stands there for long seconds trying to pull herself together.

“You’re always so good to me, you did so good baby.” she praises you, slowly moving inside you, fucking every last drop of her cum inside your pussy. You feel like something is burning between your legs as she stops completely inside you, breathing heavily against the curve of your neck.

When the two of you finally come off the peak you take a moment to return to your normal breathing as you feel the discomfort that is when Natasha pulls out, her cum dripping down your thighs as she fixes your underwear and drags the hem of your dress down. She looks into your eyes through the mirror, and then gently cups your chin to turn your face to the side. "I'm the only one who can make you feel like this" you feel her breath hitting your lips, and how close her face is to yours. "You'll never let anyone touch you like that, only I can do it." it's not a question, more of a warning, and you as usual just nod whatever she says as you lower your gaze to her lips. You always think how soft they must be, and how good it must be to kiss them, and Natasha notices the way you tilt your face even further, making your lips just inches apart, and with that just completely pulls away from you. "Fix your makeup."

You take a deep breath, coming back to reality, wetting your hands with the water from the sink to clean your mascara-smeared face. You look at her in the mirror's reflection, and see the way she also fixes the wrinkles in her clothes, sighing heavily as she looks at the ceiling. You wanted to know what she thinks after you guys have sex, and why she never wants to talk to you properly after that. For you it’s something really complicated, but for Natasha it's an easy answer, she doesn't want to get attached. You also have to get some paper towels to wipe the mess on your thighs, while the Maestro just puts her suit top back on, and close her shirt buttons. You place your hand on your hip bone, feeling the sore area from the way it kept hitting against the sink, and think of all the bruises it could leave the next day. "Fuck." she murmurs looking at her phone screen once she finishes looking presentable. "Uhm... you need to go."

"I'm sorry?" you turn to face her, finishing arranging a few strands of your hair.

"They started serving dinner a few minutes ago, you should go, it will be suspicious if we show up together." she speaks casually, tucking her phone back into her pants pocket.

"But I... Nat I'm hungry and... Kate was gonna give me a ride back home." she rolls her eyes when you mention your friend's name, while you tell the truth, you were waiting all night for this dinner, having sex in the bathroom of a stranger's house really wasn't in your plans, but now you don't want to go before at least eating something. "You can go ahead, I'll wait a while and-."

"No." she interrupts you. "You can eat at home, take a taxi or something." she's trying not to sound too insensitive, she really doesn't mean to. But between letting you stay and maybe ruin her career and sending you home, she prefers the second option. "What do you need? Money?" she sighs heavily and impatiently, pulling her wallet out of her pocket and scoffing in disbelief when she notices that the only thing she has is a $100 bill. "Here."

“Natasha…” you stare at the bill she holds out to you, refusing to take it. “I can't I-.”

“Gosh just take it.” she grabs your wrist, and places the bill in your hand before tucking the wallet back into her pocket. She sees the expression on your face, and how hurt you look about it, but she can't throw years of career in the trash. “Look… I'm sorry okay? But I really need to go now, just make sure no one sees you when you're leaving… you… baby… you're a mess.” she moves closer to you to adjust the hem of your dress which is still way above your thighs, before lightly caressing your cheek with her knuckles. “Just, text me when you get home, right?”

You don't look at her before you hear the door close, you just play with the piece of paper in your hands. It's like every time she gets what she wants, you just become her apprentice again, not someone she shares such intimate moments with. But at the same time she makes you feel so important that you’re starting to accept this kind of relationship that you two have. Even deep down what you really wanted is for her to look at you the same way you look at her.

taglist: @eliii1sblog @florojas @wannabe-fic-reader @supaheroine @kksalexa @madelineleong @chibilauren @smromanoff @chiar4anna @cl-e @wifeofnatasharomanoff @ccinnamongrl

#my pianist series #wlw #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha #natasha romanoff x fem reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #wlw smut #istg if it flops……..

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chaoticbardlady99 · 1 month

Text

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me

Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader

Chapter One: Music, Regrets, and Party Tricks

Synopsis: (3 months post Netherbrain) You ask Astarion to take you to see a violinist in a park and end up having a heart to heart. You begin to have very peopley feelings towards Astarion. Someone from Astarion's past makes an unwelcome fourth appearance and you help Astarion get revenge.

CW: Mentions of SA (Astarion), violence, revenge, brief mentions of suicidal ideation, a tad bit fluffy

Note: The first couple chapters will have time skips because it is meant to set up the main plot- more chaos is on it's way!

Disclaimer- I put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie is a stock image. I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @cheekylittlepupp . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.

Prologue : Chapter Two: AO3

You wait anxiously by the door as Astarion takes his sweet time bathing in the other room. You have both been staying in a room in Elfsong Tavern since the Netherbrain was defeated about 3 months ago.

You and Astarion usually spend your days in Szarr palace looking for any information on Sunwalking. You’ve found lots of promising leads, but they are all very very far away- the first lead is in some mountain in Amn and you’re excited to see more of the world.

Tonight is your last night in Baldur’s Gate for a while and you had overheard some tavern goers talking about a Violinist playing in the park tonight. You had felt your entire body perk up at the idea.

The only obstacle was getting Astarion to take you.

The man pretty much abandons you at nighttime- leaving you alone and lonely. He used to pet you to sleep every night, talk with you and laugh with his companions, and then he lost his ability to walk in the sun.

Recently Astarion has been falling into some habits that haven’t been great for his mental health. He’s usually picking you up for a hug after some terrible tryst he had and pretends to joke about the whole thing like it was just a bad fuck, but you knew better.

You could see the regret in his eyes and the worthless feeling in his soul. It broke your heart to see him go from being on top of the world to rock bottom again. The one time you tried to talk about it with him- he disappeared for a day and you were sure he had abandoned you.

Astarion eventually came back and he had actually spent the entire day with you. It was in silence and with many tears, but eventually he told you that he had been pressured into having sex and he felt pathetic. You reassured him a thousand times he’s not and he began bringing them to your room instead so if they are a problem- you would be the solution. You have sent many people screaming out the door with claw marks across their scalps- you even lost a claw in someone’s head!

“I can defend myself, Darling,” Astarion said as he cleaned up the mess your broken claw left on your paw, “you don’t need to be my Cat in Shining Armor.”

“I know, but isn’t this just so much more entertaining for both of us?”

Astarion smiled widely, “that is a very good point.”

He began spending more time with you at night, but there are still days where he falls into his old habits and is sucked in by his despair.

You are really hoping today isn’t one of those days because you really want to go listen to the Violinist.

You jolt to life when the door creaks open and Astarion walks out without a shirt while toweling off his hair. He freezes instantly when he sees you sitting there with wide eyes and limbs ready to pounce.

“Uh oh, what did I do now?”

“It’s about what you are going to do.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow at you and you jump up onto the empty desk next to the door so you feel slightly more equal and powerful in the situation.

“I want to go to the park tonight,” you say, “there is going to be a violinist playing and I want to hear them.”

“Oh, so you just need me to leave the window open tonight?”

You blink a few times and try to fight the hurt that flits in your chest. Yes, you could go alone and just do that, but you were kind of hoping you could go together as friends and have a normal time together again like you used to.

“I was actually hoping you might come with me?”

Astarion looks at you like you’ve grown a third head.

“It’s our last night in Baldur’s Gate and you want me to go with you to listen to a violinist in the park?”

His voice is on the border of amusement and irritation. Your heart cracks ever so slightly more.

“Yes,” you squeak.

“That’s ridiculous, Darling,” Astarion says with a dismissive wave, “I would much rather spend my last night in Baldur’s Gate indulging in sinful activities- not some violin concert.”

You don’t know why you even try to push it.

“It shouldn’t be all night,” you say quickly, “you could easil-“

“No offense,” he interrupts you, “but I would rather spend my night with a person and not my cat.”

That shatters something so deep within you that you don’t even know what to do with yourself. You are possessing a cat, but you are still a person and your feelings matter to you.

You’ve been nothing but respectful of Astarion and his feelings. You’ve been there for him because that’s what friends do. Obviously- you aren’t his friend, you are just ‘his cat’.

You aren’t his cat though. You would be able to survive just fine on your own- you will go back to gardening and befowling Donella’s home.

“I am NOT YOUR CAT!” You scream at the top of your lungs- Astarion takes a step back in surprise, “I am a person! A person with feelings! I am a person first, ghost second, and then cat third!

“And you know what!? Enjoy your sins and your adventure to find some stupid solution for the sun- I’m done!”

You bound out the window in two quick leaps and you can hear Astarion calling from the dark of the room. The fading sunlight warms your fur and is an unwelcome reminder of the wretched form you threw yourself into. You’ve really come to feel terrible for cats- everyone thinks they can just pick you up Willy Nilly or disrespect you as they please. A few children have learned the hard way that you are not to be fucked with.

Your trek to the park is easy and you get there just in time. Couples stroll around the park and the violinist is tuning up his violin. The moment is so peaceful, but the excitement you had felt previously had disappeared.

A couple laughs and another gives each other a lingering kiss. Others are laughing with each other and holding hands. They all look ridiculously in love and so happy- it makes your body hurt and your stomach turn.

You never had the opportunity to have a partner (which is a sore spot for you) and the moment the violinist strikes the first note of one of your favorite love songs- you find yourself miserably wandering to the only place you could think of, the Rothwell Crypt.

You slide through the grates with ease and you jump up onto your mother’s coffin with your head on your paws. Tears fall out of your eyes- a new quirk you didn’t know you could do.

You sniff the air tepidly and a choked sob escapes your mouth. Not a single trace of her perfume is around- not that you expected it to be, but you had so hoped.

She would have gone with you- cat, person, or ghost. She used to love taking you to see violinists in the park as a child and she would tell you grand love stories that you hoped to one day experience.

The worst part? Your mother is long gone. You are no longer the happy-go-lucky 10 year old with the spontaneous, enthusiastic mother who had a sense of adventure. She will never cheer you on at a street corner ever again and you will never smile brightly at her when she put a gold piece in your case- it always made others feel like they should do it too. Your life was happy and warm.

Now? You are a ghost doomed to be trapped in this form until it dies and then what? Will you even be able to move on? You couldn’t last time so why would it be any different now? It all makes you so angry you could tear your fur out.

You will never see a violinist with her again. You will never know what it means to truly love someone and to be loved in return. You will never be able to play the Violin again all because Donella thought you were ‘promising’.

If you hadn’t died, would you have been one of those violinists in the park? Would your parents be there cheering you on? Would you have had full blooded siblings? Gotten married? Become famous?

The thoughts cause you to cry harder and you decide you are going to take control of your own fate for once- you will lay here until you eventually starve to death. That seems like a full proof solution.

You hear the gate to the crypt open, but you don’t bother to look. Whoever it is better put you out of your misery sooner rather than later.

“Gods below, you are much faster than I thought you were,” Astarion exclaims as he practically clammers down the stairs, “come on- that violinist of yours is still playing and - what’s wrong?”

“Go away,” you say weakly.

“But your violinis-“

“I don’t care anymore.”

You expect him to yell at you and to be angry, but instead he walks over and kneels down until he’s at eye level with you.

“I’m sorry, Darling,” Astarion pleads, “you’re right- you are a per-“

“No,” you choke, “I don’t want your apology. You’re right. I’m just a cat now. So please, leave me alone.”

“No.”

You finally take the opportunity to look at him and your own misery fades a little when you see his own tear stained face. You both just stare at each other like you so frequently do when you are at a verbal crossroads.

Astarion gets up and you expect him to leave, but instead, you are being swung up into his arms and marched out of the crypt.

You don’t bother to protest- what does it matter? You’re a lower class citizen in this social situation. Quite literally too- no one will open a bank account for a cat. You and Astarion tried one time and the banker looked like she was going to call the City Watch to detain a lunatic.

The last place you expected Astarion to take you was the park. He finds a bench as close to the violinist as he can and puts your defeated form down on the bench. Astarion begins to hesitantly pet you and you can’t help but lean in a bit- your sadness still a weight in your heart.

Astarion comments on the music and asks if you have ever played it before. At first your answers are plain and generic, but he somehow pulls the old part of you out from deep within your soul.

You chatter about what you would do differently, why certain songs aren’t frequently played, etc, etc. and it actually seemed like Astarion was enjoying himself for once.

The music floats through the air and your heart soars as you hear another song you were extremely familiar with- ‘Meleth’. It’s a slightly darker love song and not one that is popularly played in places where there are a multitude of settled down couples.

The song itself is about the pining a man has for a woman who is out of his reach at every turn. She isn’t trying to elude him, but the circumstances are just never right. Then, one day, he gets the courage to tell her and she’s been in love with him the entire time as well. It ends with the two of them together- the notes brighter as they flit through the night air.

“I always liked that song,” Astarion says absentmindedly.

“It’s a pretty one,” you agree, “I wouldn’t personally play this song for the environment, but no one seems too perturbed.”

Astarion looks around and notices the couples all enjoying each other’s company.

“I guess I didn’t notice.”

“Really?” You say in surprise, “it’s the first thing I noticed.”

“Is that why you didn’t stay?”

You freeze and you know for a fact your heart stopped momentarily.

It’s a fair question to ask, but you try to avoid talking about… you. You will tell him you were just so disgusted by all the love in the air- a lie is better than the truth and he doesn’t need to worry about this.

Except, when you finally make eye contact with him, his eyes are soft and inviting. Astarion seems genuinely invested in what you have to say. The look is sweet and it causes a warm feeling to glow in your chest. Maybe it would be safe to divulge this information.

“It was,” you say with a sigh, “I dedicated basically my entire life to the violin. It’s insane- looking back on it now.

“I died never knowing what it felt like to have my hand held or to be kissed. I didn’t even have the chance to fall in love because I didn’t bother to think about it! I was rarely pursued by anyone because I had my head in my music sheets and never made the time to talk to anyone outside of my parents.

“All of that hard work was gone in less than two minutes and the last thing I remember thinking about was how devastated I was to lose my first consistent gig- as if that was the most important thing I was losing at the time. It’s- it’s dumb that I lost my future because Donella thought I was ‘promising’ and had some sick idea in her head that she would mentor me. Her and her ego- she just had to try to create a fucking vampire spawn with little to no knowledge on the topic.

“She wanted to mentor young women and try to prove to the higher ups that women were just as capable as men- which is something I strongly believed in! I was all for destroying the patriarchy! Hells- I would have been happy to just have her as a mentor, she was very well known for being a woman of poise, but no! Turns out, Donella was a gods damn Vampire Lord. She wanted a spawn and instead she damned me to a horribly lonely and sad existence in that fucking PALACE!

“I wish I had been a cat while she was still alive. I would absolutely piss on her head and destroy her curtains. I wonder if pee is considered running water- that would have been very entertaining.”

You leer at the tower standing tall in the distance. At least you can destroy the curtains and piss on her grave. Astarion is laughing at your last sentence, but his eyes also tell a different story. He looks sad for you- heartbroken even.

Neither one of you speaks for the rest of the violinist’s concert. You’ve watched Astarion’s gears crank away in his head for at least a good hour now and they are still going as the two of you head back to Elfsong Tavern. There is practically smoke pouring out of his ears by the time he sets you down on the bed and lays in his usual spot on the bed.

You want to ask him what he is thinking about, but you are also afraid to ask and have it be something dismissive so instead you curl up in your usual spot at the top right of the bed, up against the wall like you so adore. Your fluffy pillow is still waiting for you like it had been before you stomped off and you definitely note the closed windows.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says.

“For?”

“For forgetting that you were also very much a prisoner there,” Astarion says quietly, “and for not treating you like my equal. I haven’t been a very good companion lately and I’ve…. Admittedly been trying to push you away. I suppose I didn’t realize how much I didn’t want that until you leaped out of the window- which by the way- you could have died so please just ask me to open the door if you intend on storming off next time, Darling.”

You roll your eyes.

“I landed on my paws!”

“You seem to forget the several thousand other times where you have belly flopped into those rose bushes or onto the cobblestone,” Astarion says through narrowed eyes and pouty lips, “you were terrible to live with when your ribs were broken- you sounded like you were about to keel over at a moments notice.”

“You seem awful hyperfixated on me dying,” you say slowly, “I’ve died before- it’s not like it’s that scary. Well it is, but I would be fine. I would just be… quieter!”

Astarion looks at you and his mouth drops into a frown while he shakes his head.

“I need you,” Astarion says quietly, “more than I care to admit. I enjoy your company- you make me happy and I would even say you are my friend. I don’t want you to ‘just be in the background’ of my life ever again.”

You’re stunned by his words and he is actively avoiding eye contact with you. He must have fed recently because a nice rosy blush crawls up his neck and paints his cheeks.

You’re grateful cats can’t blush because you would be a sputtering mess- you would get red as a tomato when you were embarrassed.

You’re his friend! You are really his friend!

“I need you too,” you say brightly, “I’m very little, terrible at hunting, and prone to injury, but I also very much enjoy your company too. I share the same sentiment, if that helps. I prefer being on the forefront of your life.”

Astarion looks both relieved and elated at the same time. He picks you up into a hug that you gladly sink into. This feels like three months ago and you silently curse your cat body for purring in delight.

That warm feeling in your chest is back again and you can’t help but feel intoxicated by the way he smells, how beautiful he is, and how complex his mind is. You really do lov-

Oh no. Those thoughts need to be put away- not that you would know anyway. Love? Naw. That’s impossible. Your heart can’t possibly be so stupid as to fall in love with a man who will only ever see you as his friend trapped in a cat. Your situation doesn’t necessarily scream romance.

Except it does make sense because it does break your heart to know he’s off with other people and you will never be able to be one of those people.

Well, you’d prefer to be a lot more to him than those people, but that’s not in the cards for you. Being a cat is okay- you get all the love in the world from him, even if it’s not the love you would prefer.

You push the thought away and reground yourself by listening to the phantom heartbeat that rings through his chest. He must have fed very recently.

You remain there for a while until a loud knock on the door gets both of your attention.

“Astarion? Are you in there?” A woman with a high pitched, sickly sweet voice calls out, “are we still going to have a drink together?”

You and Astarion both look at each other then back to the door. She knocks again and calls out louder. You blink at him a few times and he very awkwardly puts you down before giving you a, “Gods, help me please” face, motions for you to hide, and he opens the door. You turn invisible instead- you may need to commit some major inconveniences and you enjoy using the little bits of magic that are accessible to you. Being a cat with ghost powers is pretty freaking phenomenal if you do say so yourself.

“Astarion!”

The Tiefling woman is very very pretty, but something is off about her and you don’t like it. She smells wrong and from the way Astarion’s posture changes- it’s obvious that your suspicions are correct and something is off.

“I apologize, um,” Astarion pauses.

By the Gods he doesn’t even remember her name.

“Morgana,” she says with a slightly annoyed tone,” it’s okay though, you can make it up to me by buying me a drink.”

Astarion agrees to this nonsense and follows her down to the bar. It makes you bristle- something really isn’t right so that must be why the door is cracked ever so slightly.

You quietly squeeze through the door and stay close to the wall as you watch Astarion and the mysterious woman walk down the steps. You catch Astarion looking behind him at the door with worry. Your heart once again catches in your chest and is filled with that stupid, unfair glow.

FOCUS BIRDIE!

You shake your head and rake your own paw over your ear as if to chastise yourself. You put your adorable pink nose in the air and take a big whiff- the putrid odor from the woman is coming from a room down the hall and the closer you get to it, the worse it becomes. The scent has an underlying metallic smell so you are almost positive something is wrong with her blood.

You peek under the doorway and use Misty Steps to enter the room- you immediately throw up upon entering.

The room is scattered with papers and it looks borderline manic. There is a dead woman laying out on the bed and all of her blood is completely drained. It’s the same woman that Astarion had left with except she smells normal enough.

You reluctantly hop up on the bed- finding, to your horror, that the woman has multiple stab wounds in the chest and her eyes are wide in horror. It takes every last bit of your strength to swallow the nausea that threatens to consume you as you cast Speak with the Dead. She regards you, but she’s not nearly as lifeless as you thought she would be.

In fact, she screams, “ARAJ NO!” the moment she reanimates which causes you to leap at least 10 feet in the air with your tail puffed up. You clench your teeth and take a deep breath through your mouth before talking- you don’t want to begin cussing the corpse out. That is not a good way to start an interrogation.

“Why did you say, ‘Araj, no’?” You ask sheepishly.

You know Araj- she’s the person you lost a claw to. She had come to your room in the middle of the day and demanded he bite her. She would not stop asking and wouldn’t take no for an answer until you forced her to accept it.

“Araj… paralyze… force herself… Astarion.”

Oh that woman is dead.

“Why!?”

“Anything… to be… bitten.”

You are sprinting towards the door and smack into it from going too fast. You pop back up, your head now throbbing, and use misty steps once again to exit the room. Turning the corner, you see Tavern goers begin to aww at you, but you hiss loudly and scare them off.

This feels even worse than Cazador for some reason. At least you knew the bastard was a sadistic, evil man, but Araj just seemed like a minor inconvenience. Now she’s a really big inconvenience.

You spot them quickly in a secluded corner of the bar and weave through the tavern goers. You can sense Astarion’s anxiety, but you hear him talking as if he has not a single care in the world. She flirts with him, but he deflects it which seems to upset her- you’d be upset too if your piss poor plan was going to the grave.

Adrenaline fills your body as you get closer and see the little paralytic bottle peeking out of her pocket. You race forward and skid to a halt underneath the table. Neither one of them has seemed to notice your appearance so you go straight for the bottle in question.

“Has anyone ever told you how incredibly handsome you are?” Araj says, “you look like you have walked out of a poem.”

Disgusting.

“I have heard that before, yes.”

HA! Take that lady! He could not be more interested and her plan really won’t work if he isn’t interested and her bottle of paralytic disappears.

You put your teeth around the neck of the bottle and slowly pull it out of her pocket. Your teeth are able to get a solid grip in the cork, but it definitely has some residual paralysis potion on it because your body begins to tingle painfully. However, you continue with your mission and you are able to get the bottle out of her pocket; Only for it to crash to the floor when you drop like a dead weight. One thing is for sure- that’s a hell of a paralytic.

The sound gets both Araj’s and Astarion’s attention- Astarion is quickly picking you up off the ground.

“What’s happening?” He asks you in his panic, “are you hurt? Are you dying? What-“

You see how panicked Araj is as she looks from you to the broken bottle on the floor. Astarion is so distracted with you that he doesn’t see her frantic mind trying to piece together a reason for this to be happening. At least she’s smart enough to realize saying, “I made that paralytic to roofie you so I could force you to drink my blood and it looks like your cat ruined my plan” would not end well for her.

“Oh your poor kitty must have found someone’s bottle of paralytic,” Araj says while feigning innocence, “I have an antidote I can give her- do you want to continue this upstairs.”

Astarion nods, but mostly because he just wants you to be okay. You are infuriated right now- this woman is taking advantage of the fact that you can’t talk and you doubt she has an antidote. She’s probably going to poison you and then attempt to assault Astarion.

She parts ways with you both so that she can grab the antidote. You want to scream- Astarion needs to follow her and see the nightmare that has been created. However, he brings you into your shared room and begins digging through his pack. A sigh of relief leaves his mouth when he finds an antidote bottle.

“I don’t trust that woman,” he grumbles, “and I have a feeling you found a lot in your investigation.”

You gladly drink the entire bottle as fast as possible before popping up and looking Astarion dead in the eyes with your tail puffy and tall.

“Thatsarajandsheisgoingtotrytoforceherselfonyou,” you shout all too fast.

Astarion looks positively perplexed, “I’m sorry Darling, but I think I may have misheard you- Araj is a Drow woman and this woman is a tiefling.”

“YES but she killed her friend or assistant- the details are fuzzy, but I cast Speak with the Dead and Araj was going to give you the paralytic so she could force you to bite her,” you pause for a moment, “which now that I think about it- probably isn’t possible for her to do.”

Astarion appears to go through the five stages of grief almost instantaneously while he thinks. You wonder what’s going on in that beautiful head of his. Is he sad that she isn’t really the person she was pretending to be? Your heart hurts at the thought and you once again bat yourself over the ear- earning a weird look from Astarion before he goes back to contemplating.

The shit eating grin that threatens to break his face throws out your non-feline and non-ghost thoughts.

“It appears we have a problem on our hands,” Astarion says with a mischievous grin, “whatever should we do? We don’t want such filth contaminating our space!”

You nod in agreement, flicking your tail back and forth. You think hard and long about the best course of action. There has to be at least a billion things you could- WAIT!

*************************************

You and Astarion snicker as he sets up Godey’s destroyed bones next to Araj who he had put in the cuffs hanging from the wall. She’s fast asleep- Astarion had asked her to go on a walk with him and then casted sleep on her when he was just outside Szarr palace. You served as the distraction so she couldn’t counter it by popping out of the corner and scaring the woman out of her illusion. The look on Araj’s face was priceless when she realized Astarion knew exactly who she was prior to the big reveal.

The last part of your masterful plan wasn’t your idea, but Astarion insisted. He dragged Cazador’s disgusting, rotting corpse up from the dungeons and sat it up in a coffin. He had opened the man’s eyes (how they are still intact is beyond you) and maneuvered him so that it looks like Cazador is staring at Araj.

A stirring from behind you causes Astarion to pick you up before casting invisibility. You are going to do a quick body jump- as much as it horrifies you.

Possessing a dead, rotting person is absolutely disgusting- you think you’ll stick to being a cat until you can find another solution. However, Astarion promised you that he would take you to the beach when you reach Amn and let you teach him how to read music in return for your discomfort.

Cazador’s rotting limbs move uncomfortably and Araj begins to scream in terror as you descend upon her.

She did say she would do anything to be bitten.

*********************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @spacebarbarianweird

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion romance #karlach #bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x female reader

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komelrebi-san · 5 months

Text

songs without words

was in band practice yesterday daydreaming about inumaki toge and it gave me ideas

synopsis: in which, you! the concert pianist in the school orchestra, caught their eyes... feat.: (my husband)gojo satoru, suguru geto, inumaki toge, itadori yuji, fushiguro toji

don't like, don't read.

when they walk into the room, carrying their music sheets and instrument, their eyes land on you. eh, wait, you're new! they haven't seen you before, have they? are you even supposed to be here?

but you don't take any notice of them as you played transcendental passages on the piano, dextrous fingers dancing over the keys, beautiful melodies resonating from the strings of the piano. smiling bashfully, you stop playing and walk over to talk to the proud-looking conductor, yaga masamichi.

---

gojo satoru - principal flautist

jeez, you cannot, cannot tell me this man is not the principal flautist

bags any and all solos he can, may or may not be competing for attention with a certain principal violinist

quote: 'what do you mean the violin gets to be concert master??? i'm also a principal musician! the flute is a solo instrument too!!!'

always always always be flaunting his skills - insane scales and arpeggios, fingers pressing and releasing the keys faster than one can comprehend - wait, how can he even tongue the notes that fast??

never never tunes to the principal violinist nor the oboist though it's normal orchestral procedure to tune to one of the two

bro skips to the piano to ask you for a tuning note, doesn't forget to add that he doesn't care which note it is because he's that skilled that he can tune to anything

(it's normal orchestral procedure to tune to concert-pitched A, frequency 440 or 442)

refuses to use a tuner/tuner app, bro has perfect pitch

goodness, he's such a menace, he's always belting out high notes

conductor yaga has never regretted anything more than giving satoru the piccolo part

(for those of you that don't know, the piccolo is basically a mini flute, same fingerings but just higher pitched)

i think everyone's ears died, oh god

wait, don't blame him though, he just wanted you to notice him

(oh, the little giggle that came out of your pretty lips when he belched high notes on his piccolo)

suguru geto - the said principal violinist

the said principal violinist satoru tries to take solos from

oof he always looks so good, sitting up straight int he front of his chair, hair swept to the side as he sits his violin on his shoulder

the little smirks he sends you as he plays, god damn

quite literally enchants everyone with his playing, fingers effortlessly reaching across the violin fingerboard

was so so so tempted to ask the principal percussionist to chuck the huge gong mallet at satoru's head

does this thing where he nods at you with a confident smile before rehearsal officially starts, and that's his signal for you to play the concert-pitched A so he can tune, then the rest of the string players will follow, and then the rest of the orchestra

relishes the fact that he's the closest to you in terms of seating and never forgets to rub it in satoru's face

has given your piano part a few tries on his violin just to spend more time with you, ends up laughing at satoru once again because whilst the violin can play multiple notes at the same time, the flute cannot

always brings hand cream with him! he doesn't use it but he makes you use it (trust me playing piano after massaging your hands slightly with hand cream feels infinitely better)

bonus! offers you his jacket if you get cold hands easily

inumaki toge - the principal oboist

somehow always gets dehydrated? like

needs to have water with him at rehearsals

probably started following you around like a lost puppy a little bit after that one time you gave him water and told him very nonchalantly that you aren't saliva conscious when he forgot to bring his bottle

well i mean, in his mind he probably was like 'wait, they understand me!!!'

welllllll, there was supposed to be another oboist but they always skip rehearsals lmfao

have i told you that this boy has the prettiest lips??? they look so kissable

partially the instrument's fault bc the reed is so small, so oboists really have to preserve their lips

loves loves loves loves onigiri, like, you never see him without onigiri during rehearsal breaks

and he look so cute when he eats!! does this thing where he puffs his cheeks out as he chews, bro probably just stuffed his mouth full of onigiri bc of his love for them 😭😭😭

started bringing extra onigiri with him so he can offer you one

actl speaks quite little, so he settles for actions instead

always comes to rehearsal 10 min early just so he can warm up and tune his oboe but in reality is just an excuse to sit with you

itadori yuji - actually supposed to be first trumpet, but ends up substituting as a percussion player a lot of the times

loud

have i told you that he's loud???

i swear, music classrooms are soundproof af but you can hear his laughter down the corridor even as you warmed up on the piano

okay, the principal trumpet is great, but wait, how does itadori's sound always manage to overpower their's???

please, yaga doesn't even know 😭😭😭

okay, itadori is great, but the problem is he always manages to somehow come in at the wrong time or play the wrong note, on top of being really super loud

welp, so he started subbing for the percussion

oh no oh no, everyone's ears

but hey, his crash-cymbal part is done ON POINT, so might as well keep him there

always comes early to set up his percussion stuff, so when you joined as the concert pianist, he also sets the grand piano lid for you, it's so damn heavy

bro's always hungry, so he always carries candy or sweet stuff with him, and he tries super hard to hide them from the sweet-toothed principal flautist

but uses them as on opportunity to start conversations with you and offer you some, and deny satoru in his face

and he's always rushing off to some kind of sports training session afterwards, lmfao

toji fushiguro - guest saxophone player

badboy upperclassman fr 😩😩😩

saxophone is a side job, but bro looks so fucking sexy while playing, and he makes sure he perfects every solo bit he can get his hands on

actl in like a band with his classmates or something, pretty sure you saw him playing drums with his friends at the school concert once

probs knows how to play guitar and bass too, so he helps his friends rearrange the parts and teach them parts they cant play

but! mediocre at the keyboard

so when he saw you?

thought 1: oooof she's so hot, i wanna ask her out

thought 2: hey, she can join my band!

so he used idea number two as an excuse to talk to you lmfao, but wasn't gonna give up when you told him that you were busy so you had to think about it

made a point right then and there to talk to you every single rehearsal he can come to

either to show you videos of them/solo cams of him playing, or to complain they cant find a good keyboardist and they are suffering lmfao

literally almost started fighting satoru for your attention lmfao, and my bro right here actl went ahead to wack satoru's head with a drumstick

oof arm muscles flexing oof so hot

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #suguru geto x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #suguru geto #inumaki toge x reader #inumaki x reader #inumaki toge #jjk hcs #jjk headcannons #jujutsu kaisen hcs

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ay0nha · 1 year

Note

request? could you write something with Damon having major sexual tension with a backing member of gorillaz (like a violinist or something) it’s vagueeee but still

SUMMARY: A warm smell surrounded you that’s familiarity made something bloom in your chest. It wasn’t a far cry to admit Damon was attractive. Any star was. Something scratched at your chest, toyed with you. It taunted you to bring the fabric close and be consumed by it. But Damon’s eyes were fixated on your every move; the wrong one would be catastrophic.

PAIRING: Damon Albarn x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: I tried to combine a handful of requests, so if it's a little choppy...don't worry about it....fluff, cursing, lack of coherent plot because I a little bit gave up half way through, nothing crazy, etc.

A/N: Hello! I love this concept so much. It was meant to be an enemies to lovers, but my little fluff-filled heart couldn't do it. Please, please enjoy! (If you can't tell, I live for this gif lol)

“Loop it.”

The harmonies felt better. But after going through every note in your range, Damon still refused to settle. Sleep clung to your voice and became prominent when you tried to push through.

“Let’s do it again…” Damon pressed the signaling button for his voice to echo. You could see through the glass fatigue ruled him and fueled his obsession. “Try the C major–” He hesitated to commit to the note, but not when he had called your hotel room in the middle of the night. “—No. Try doing–

“I’m taking a break.”

The headphones disconnected before Damon could reprimand you. If you had to be inconvenienced, so would he. Silence followed you as you moved through his home. Damon’s eyes tracked your familiarity in his home. There was something, a feeling he couldn’t decipher about the authority you found in it.

You were no longer a guest, but you weren’t a friend. Despite knowing each other for years, you never quite graduated from the acquaintance level. Yet, there you were, sipping from the mug Damon had made himself as if you were his other half.

Your position normalized it. The industry, which you barely claimed space in, normalized things like this. There was plenty of musical history to account for late-night sessions or jams, but this felt intentional. Different.

“Where are the others?” You teased him knowingly. You were well aware of the rumored soft spot he had for you, but it was hard to believe what he expected of you.

“Still sleeping.” Damon was restless, focusing on the wasted time on hot water and honey. “They’ll catch up.” He attempted to reason with your glare. “We need to get back.”

You had gotten further than usual, half a mug’s worth, before he complained. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the tea to keep you up, but the warmth helped. So did the fact that there was a fresh stock of the brand you gravitated towards. He was expecting you.

“Just a minute longer.” You hummed, neck stretching to the left and right until it popped. “Sure you don’t want any?” Damon declined, settling with a yawn. “You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

“I will…” He sniffed with agitation. You annoyed him and crawled under his skin just to settle there. “...once we’re done.”

“We are done.” A breath of amused laughter flitted through your nose. “You’ll have to drag me back in there.” Damon looked at you as if actually entertaining the thought. Throwing him a coy gaze, you added, “I’d love to see you try.”

“I thought about it.” He cracked a smile, finally. Damon was uncharacteristically quiet during the session, suppressing his usual cheekiness.

Your expression softened, matching his, “I know.”

“Maybe I’ll scrap the song.” He finally caved, his anxieties surfacing. “B-sides or something.” His movements became his own, demeanor present again, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a mess.” You cleared your mug, the remaining tea cold and forgotten. “That what you want to hear?” You hummed for an answer. “Or that it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard?”

“Depends.” His smile remained present. “Does my ego need inflating?”

“God, no.”

Your breath of laughter was divine. Damon would listen to it on a loop if he could. These moments made it worthwhile. They were fleeting but brought a much-needed lightness to the night. Made the purpose of your presence just a little sweeter.

—

You’d come in with little layers, to begin with. Stumbling out of bed meant whatever was on your back would have to suffice for the day ahead. Yet, that hadn’t accounted for the switch of the air conditioning to accommodate the countless pieces of equipment used.

At night, things were different. You related to the solitude, the quietness making it easier to think. Yet, the buzz of a busy studio gave a unique rush to every meeting that helped immerse you in a world of collaboration.

“He kept you all night?” Jamie’s tone was teasing with the rhetorical question. It was obvious in how you looked—casually put together and gaze set on the goal of finishing—that you’d seen the sunrise.

You offered a simple smile, making it seem like you hadn’t minded. In reality, you hadn’t truly minded, but part of you resisted the game of cat and mouse.

“You’re allowed to say no.” Another breath of laughter. Jamie had a knack for using his humor for others' comfort, which you appreciated. Especially if it came to poking fun at Damon. “He does know what that means.”

“Keeps me occupied.” The excuse was rehearsed but not inaccurate, as you shrugged. “The extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

“God knows he’s got plenty to spare.”

Jamie looked at Damon. He was engrossed with his lyrics, scratching out words for others and shuffling the cue cards in different orders until they made sense for the singers who would soon spill in. A cigarette hung from his lips, the ash snowing down onto his work.

Damon mumbled against the butt to himself, taking a drag just to push it out through his nose. Something was appealing to the vice. Especially as you thought to reach out with your two fingers to capture your lips around the cigarette just to feel the heat of his lips.

“C’mere for a minute.”

There was a lag before you realized Damon had called out to you. There wasn’t a need for you yet; he would have to make something up soon to explain why you had to detach yourself from Jamie.

“The melodies sound good.” You crouched beside him, the compliment surprising not only him but yourself. “I heard you earlier…” You attempted to backtrack before the heat reached the tips of your ears. “...It’s shaping up nicely.”

“The lyrics are..." His sentence trailed off, morphing as he blew a raspberry. He couldn't quite shake the frustration of his unfinished song.

Goosebumps littered your skin as you reached across him for the marker in his hand. He knew you were cold since he avoided looking at how the swell of your breast peaked, looking for heat.

“Grammar’s a bit off.” You mumbled, adjusting the order of a few things. It was like a puzzle; the song's lyrics could be bent however you wanted but could only settle comfortably with a proper flow. “...Let's see how that sounds.”

You hummed the melody that had become your earworm. Damon matched it with the lyrics. The flow had changed with the slight adjustment as if mocking how it had taken days for him even to approach it.

“Yeah, that’s good…” Damon whispered to himself, to you. There was no reason to be surprised at your skill, but there was something that tickled him. “Good, let’s get the others.” He could feel the start of his rambling in his chest. “I mean, when everyone gets here…you can show them.”

“Somethings off with you…” Your eyebrows cinched together with premature amusement. “You don’t like it?”

Damon was hard-headed, never soft-spoken about his work and how he envisioned it. But he struggled to form his words the way he wanted with you.

“He’s upset that he didn’t come up with it himself. ” Jamie joined right as Damon went to thank you. “Now leave the girl alone; I don’t know how she’s not sick of you yet.”

—

As others filtered in, producing and recording, the smoke began to fill the room. Things began to come easy, things falling into place with more than a pair of eyes looking for a solution. Damon thrived in the environment. He personified the more, the merrier.

He would detach himself from one group just to mingle with those working in the opposite direction. He multitasked even when everyone decided to relax collectively, yourself included.

“All I’m saying is that the audience in Rio has this unmatched energy.”

They talked about the upcoming tour, regaling tales of part performances that couldn’t be matched. It had just been confirmed and announced to the anticipatory fans in capital cities globally.

“Toyko, hands down.” Another added. “ Plus, the food is well worth the travel.”

You traveled for work but only hopped from one studio to the next. Never had you performed in front of crowds as the rest had. They shared stories of the things thrown at them during peak performances and tales of drunken nights that were fuzzily being put together.

“Albarn, do you remember?” They called for him across the room. He had waited for the single invitation to be closer to you with the backing of an excuse. “In Montreal, how’d we get back to the hotel?”

Damon didn’t touch you, not yet, at least. The arm around the cushion of the sofa settled comfortably as he sat. His head lulled back and forth, giving attention to those he conversed with. But something about how he gravitated to your space made it seem like his undivided attention was yours.

You found it difficult to listen to shared stories you knew little about. But you liked the rumble you felt against your side when Damon fluttered with laughter. Each time, he would catch the goosebumps that spread across your arms. He figured you were cold, but you were worried that you were revealing yourself, and he only reveled in it. So you used the very excuse of being affected by the temperature to cover yourself.

You could have gone without asking, but your hand landed on his knee before you realized. “You have a jumper or something?”

His eyes lingered on your hand, which caught his attention. It was a smart move on your part, better than trying to call his name, knowing it would go out in one ear and out the other. Others continued around you, making nothing of the touch, but you rarely initiated something.

“On the chair.” Damon jutted his chin across the room where his sweatshirt had been scrapped.

Eyes were on you, watching your sock-clad feet pad carefully over the various wires that littered the floor. The sweatshirt was intentionally large on Damon, so it swam on you as you pulled it over your head.

A warm smell surrounded you that’s familiarity made something bloom in your chest. It wasn’t a far cry to admit Damon was attractive. Any star was. Something scratched at your chest, toyed with you. It taunted you to bring the fabric close and be consumed by it. But Damon’s eyes were fixated on your every move; the wrong one would be catastrophic.

Someone called your name, and your original spot was filled beside Damon. There was a yearning to return to that, probably the shared exhaustion of the day forefronting your thoughts.

—

Your eyes couldn’t help but drift throughout the session. It was becoming a hard habit to break. But for once, you were thankful, able to catch the tail end of Jamie and Damon’s tiff. They had their lovers quarrels, but they never remained quiet. They were never shy to be dramatic for everyone to hear and witness.

The studio glass was your barrier, but you had an inkling it was about you. Jamie was always an advocate for you, for everyone. He, although not always, could talk sense into his counterpart. You just wished he waited to do it when you weren’t there or when you could eavesdrop.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m—

“Nah, I’m tired of your excuses.” Jamie tutted, arms crossing with conviction. “You have a beautiful girl over in the middle of the night, and you make her work.” He shook his head as if it was the most despicable thing. “The only thing she should be doing is moaning–

“Fuck off.” Damon frowned at the crudeness. He’d mused the thought but never allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy. “It’s not like that, believe me.

“You’re letting me down.” Jamie continued, ready for the fight. “What happened to you?” He always tapped right on Damon’s pressure points. “You’ve gone soft, can’t even ask out a girl without falling apart.”

“Thanks, mate.” Damon threw a glare, still looking ahead. He caught your eye unintentionally. But his eyes flickered back to Jamie before the slim chance of being ashamed. “Go find something to do, I can’t babysit today.”

“You’re drawing it out,” Jamie said. “She’ll be gone when you finally fucking do something—

“I’ve invited her out tonight.”

The lie flew out fast. Damon had only heard through the whispers of others that you would think about going. Now, he gambled.

Jamie’s eyebrows twitched up, “With us?”

“Who else?”

A smirk pulled at the thought. Years passed, and your tendency to avoid social events began to precede you. “You bribed her to say yes, didn’t you?”

—-

“Refill?”

Damon watched your drink dwindle. Your ordered whatever everyone else was having, making it easy to blend in. It was his excuse to talk to you, which he found otherwise difficult.

The music was loud, thumping directly to drown out his voice. Yours carried beautifully as you laughed with the company. It felt like a strike every time Damon heard it. A reminder of the incompetence Jamie had reminded him of earlier.

“Hmm?”

The music covered Damon’s words. You leaned close to his neck; ear perked to hear him. He had caught you on the dance floor, where you swayed to the beat. On the off-beat, your shoulder brushed against his, a deliberate move on your part.

“Your drink…” He pointed to it this time. The strobing lights helped cover his stumble. “You want another?”

Damon looked good. Maybe it was the buzz around you allowing you to fall behind the veil of alcohol. It helped that people around you bumped the two of you closer. If he hadn’t been looking at you so intently for an answer, you’d be in his arms within a matter of minutes.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

The atmosphere of the club required commitment. But the bar offered a reprieve. You were lucky to have found a free stool that wobbled under your weight while Damon flagged down the bartender. You were sure some recognized him, but as he matured, the more privacy he maintained.

“Thought you would be a no-show.” The gin and tonic had a heavy pour, reflecting the overwhelmed workers and carelessness of the night. You sipped on its sweetness, patient for Damon’s response.

“So did I.” Ironically enough, you had approached Damon. You extended the invitation, lying through your teeth that the others had sent you to ask him. Relief flooded him. A shrug simplified Damon’s feelings. “Changed my mind.”

“Why?” You teased, looking at him with nothing but conviction. “You found out I was coming?”

“Something like that.” His lips twitched at the sentiment, arms encasing you as more bumped him toward you, “Jamie’s quite persistent.”

Your drinks dwindled, and more were ordered. The bubble you’d created was filled with wit, a banter that came naturally and held heavy sentiments. You had already memorized the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how his laughter started deep within his chest just to echo its way to you. But it never got old. Typically, you’d scold yourself for admiring him that way but indulged regardless. Damon was never subtle with how his gaze lingered, but you doubted subtly was his priority.

Especially as he broke eye contact with you just to wet his own lips, mirroring your gesture. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “You’ve got my attention.”

It seemed the best time to ask you when he had you in his grasp. There wouldn’t be a more appropriate time in his eyes. This was what he wanted most but never knew how to express. He wanted you near him, like this.

“Come on tour with me.”

#q #damon albarn #damon albarn x reader #damon #albarn #damon albarn x f!reader #damon albarn fluff #damon albarn angst #damon albarn smut #damon albarn gorillaz #damon albarn imagine #damon albarn prompt

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vendoramachine · 3 months

Text

orchestra headcanons

velvet & veneer

ORCHESTRA SIBLINGS EHEHHEH (they hated it and dropped out eventually!) thank you to @van-is-silly for prompting this one!

- “vene- VENEER! GIVE ME THE ROSIN!”

- velvet played the cello, and veneer played the violin ( ven wanted to play cello too but vel didn’t want him copying her 😔 )

- they HATED practice in the same room, even though they were practicing the same songs (its cus veneer can’t keep up with the tempo and vel would get so pissed lmfao)

- veneer is dumb as rocks and always needed help tuning his violin

- again, he’s dumb as rocks and would always forget the next note

“vel, what’s that note, again?”

“idiot, cellos play on the bass clef, you think i know?”

- vel has stabbed veneer in the waist with the tip of her bow so many damn times

- veneer somehow shattered his rosin like twice

- both of them hated plucking because they said it hurt and messed up their nails (it didn’t they’re just dramatic)

- naturally, vel loves being the star of everything, so she hates on violins for always having the melody

“you violins are so hard to listen to, cellos are superior.”

- veneer’s shaky ass hands made him wanna die (it unintentionally helped him with vibrato though 💁‍♀️)

- they tried switching instruments with each other once and it was literal chaos

- once in a while, when cellos were given the melody, vel would never shut up about it

“lol, imagine not having the melody for this song”

- a while after being arrested, they considered picking it back up to try and redeem themselves

“do you think we could get somewhere with orchestra?”

“hell no, i don’t remember any of that crap, sis.”

“you’re right. we hated it so much.”

- they weren’t bad players, but def not good enough to make a career out of it (they also just didn’t like it in general 🤷‍♀️)

- veneer has ripped out so many snapped bow hairs, that’s why he’s owned like four in his three years of playing

- the two both left after their freshman year of high school, cus their new teacher made them hate orchestra even more

- to be exact, they dropped out the moment that their parents suggested that they join the mount rageous symphony orchestra in their senior year

- vel’s cello was 3/4 size but her strings were way too close together, so she needs but never got a full size 😭

- since mount rageon consists of mostly pop fans, to make a large enough orchestra, they made it required for middle school students to take it for at least a semester

- surprisingly, veneer wanted to do it anyways, but didn’t wanna do it alone so their parents made vel do it with him (they actually enjoyed it for a bit but everyone outgrows things)

again, these headcanons are me self projecting, cus i’m a violinist and my sister is a cellist. coming up with these silly headcanons is so fun, so expect more in the future!

#trolls band together #velvet and veneer #trolls 3 #velvet trolls #veneer trolls #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanons #dumb headcanons #orchestra #violin #cello #lgbtq #lesbian #gay #funny shit

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xxaraaq · 10 months

Text

𝘼 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙎𝙮𝙢𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙮

Hobie Brown x Black!Reader

Synopsis | Hobie Brown has listened to you play three times, each time, he falls harder in love

wc | 1342

a/n: I'm simply obsessed with hobie Brown, like he's so fine. But anyways, here y'all go. I also tried new borders and adding synopsis and stuff and honestly I like it, don't know why I didn't do it sooner.

The first time he heard you play was an accident.

Like usual, he had come by your place after dealing with his spiderman duties, or ‘problems the British government are too weak to fix’ as he would say to you time and time again. You had been practicing for an upcoming recital and you had been struggling with the end of it, always gliding your bow too rough or vice-versa. You were so immersed into what you were doing that he couldn’t interrupt, so instead, he sat on the edge of your bed, waiting for you to finish.

“Ok, I basically got it do-” you jump, screaming in fear as you turn around to see hobie with a smile on his face, chin in hand. “What the hell hobes’, why’re you just sittin’ there like a creep?!” and he smiles even more, getting up to hold you. “Why’ve you never told me you could play like that?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“I have, you’ve just never heard me play before.” You smile, putting your violin back in its case. “You're lying straight through your teeth, you know that?” He jokes, walking around your room as if examining it.

He was half right. You didn’t tell him that you played the violin, but what you did tell him is that you played an instrument, so he can't be mad at that. Besides, if he wanted to hear you play, he could've asked at any time of day and you would've done it.

“Okay okay, you're right. But now you know, so you gonna stand there sulkin’ like a baby or are you gonna come over here and lay with me?” You ask, patting the empty side of your bed. “You know how to change the topic of conversation a little to well for my likin’, you know that?” He says, laying next to you, pulling you onto his chest.

“Yes, now stop bein a little baby so we can watch that show you were buggin’ me about.”

The second time he heard you play, you were on stage.

You had bought him a ticket to the concert hall where you would be performing. He could tell that you were excited to play, which is why he made sure to tell Miguel that he wouldn't be available today.

He walks in, confused as to where to go. So he goes to the closest person he thinks works there; a receptionist behind the desk. “Where do I go to find… auditorium seven?” With a pointed finger to the left, he says thank you and walks off, ticket in hand.

He goes up to row fourteen, picking out his seat from dozens. Sitting down with a deep sigh, he plays with the ribbed scrunchie you had given him months ago. He waits in silence for the recital to start, fatigue almost taking him.

His attention is caught once the lights dim down from everywhere besides the middle of the stage. The pianists go first, and he enjoys it, but it doesn’t really catch his attention. His knee shakes out of suspense as the stage closes for what could've been the twentieth time. The violinists go next, and he gets excited, sitting up straighter in his chair. You told him that you would be the fifth to last one to play, but you didn’t tell him how many people would be playing. So here he was, waiting to see when you would come out from the side of the stage in all your beauty.

The seventh person goes, and now he’s just straight bored. Now don’t get him wrong, he fucked with classical music, he thought it was cool, but he wasn’t all that interested it if it wasn’t you. So when you came out, he was all the more happier.

The audiences’ volume lowered once again, and you put your bow unto the strings. He leaned forward, as if to get closer to you; then you started playing. He didn’t know if it was the fact that he was in love with you, or if he knew that you being on stage meant that this entire was close to being over, but it was as if you and him were the only ones who existed. He could see the passion you had inside of you from the way you played, and it brought a smile onto his features. You had a certain expression on your face that he could only read as a love only you could understand.

When it was all over, you found him through the thick crowd and ran into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Did you see me hobes’?” You ask, taking his hand in yours. “No, I fell asleep. Sorry love.” He deadpans, struggling to hold back a grin as he watches your face drop. “Your fuckin joking babe. Don't do that to me!” You whine, playfully punching him in the arm as he almost doubles over in laughter. “I'm so sorry love, I had to do it.” He sighs, wiping a tear from his eye “Don't get slapped.” You whisper as the two of you walk out onto the crowded street. “What was that?” He teases, bending down to hear you better. “I'm gonna hit you in a second.” You say, pushing his head from yours.

The third time he hears you play, he knows he’s gonna spend the rest of his life with you.

He was making dinner, a simple dish of spaghetti and garlic bread, while you were on the couch watching something that you’ve surely already watched a million times before. He was checking to see if the bread was ready when all of a sudden you gasp loudly, causing him to almost burn himself against the top of the oven. “Shit- what the yell y/n, you good?”

You don’t answer, instead running to your now shared room to get your violin. Curious to see what you're doing, he follows after you. “What idea has your frightening brain come up with that you screamed like a dying banshee?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe. “Hobes, you're about to see me flex on something that I’ve been able to do since I was fourteen.” You smile, running back to the living room. “ This should be interesting.”

You unpause the movie, placing the violin under your chin as you get ready to play. The scene unfolding before Hobie Brown is… a spectacle to say the least. You’re currently playing the violin version of the scene from the end of Sister Act 2. The fact that you took the time to learn this more than five years ago is wild to him. But it’s what makes him fall in love with you all the more. You finish, turning to him with a smile that could rival the sun. “Why did you take time out of your life to learn that specific part of the movie, and why did you do it so well?” He asks, confusion written all over his face. “I used to hyperfixate on things for like months a time, and this was one of them.” You say, big smile still painted on your face

“Was the hyperfixation the movie itself, or was it learning songs from movies on the violin?” “It was both, but you can’t lie; both Sister Act movies were nothing but fire.” You say, walking up to him, violin long discarded.

“Sure love, whatever you say.” He takes your hips in his grasp, gently pulling you against him. “What, you don’t think so?” You ask, pressing kisses onto his entire face, effectively making him laugh. “Yes, I do think that both Sister Act movies are good, great even.” He chuckles, pressing one kiss on the side of your forehead. “You know you love me and all of my unusual interests.’ You smirk, walking into the kitchen. “Do I, do I really?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yeah, he’s never letting you go, you sound to sweet to him.

-Nene

#nene #x black reader #x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown atsv #hobie x reader #hobie my beloved #spiderpunk #hobie brown #hobie x y/n #hobie Brown x black reader

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silly-sirenz · 2 months

Note

I saw my friend do this so I was wondering if I could get matched with a Hazbin Hotel character too 🥺

• My pronouns are she/her

• I am straight

• I’d say I can be sort of shy with groups of people, but once I’m in a one-on-one conversation with someone I am fun and energetic. I always try to make people laugh, and I always have a lot going on in my mind, so I tend to talk a lot. I also get very anxious, so I tend to overthink things a lot and I often ask for reassurance that I’m not being annoying and stuff. I am also protective of the people I care about. Overall I just love to have a fun time and make people happy 👍

• I. LOVE. MUSIC!! As in I am constantly singing all the time. There’s a song stuck in my head? I am belting it out loud when I’m by myself. In public I will just hum it though. I also play the violin 🎻. I am also a HUGE anime nerd, it’s like the only thing I watch. I am a purple belt in judo (a martial art, like Ju Jitsu). I love reading as well, I have so many books it’s basically a collection at this point.

• I am a Virgo

• I love puns hehe

Thank you so much!!!! 🩷🩵

Thank you for asking . I might have got a bit carried away with this one, but i hope you enjoy 🖤

I would match you up with...

🐤LUCIFER🐤

● The Hotel can get quite overwhelming at times. So often, you will spend your evenings playing violin by the balcony.

● It's a way for you to de-stress from the crowds of loud personalities downstairs, and you find it rather relaxing until one night where you catch a snake moving towards you from out of the corner of you eye.

"Not bad, kid."

● You shriek and jump back, causing him to chuckle.

● Lucifer didn't realise that there was another violinist in the hotel, and he asks to listen to you play some more.

●Nervously, you oblige. Not wanting to mess up in front of the King of Hell.

●However, as he listens, you notice a relaxed smile upon his face. He seems to be enjoying it, even though in your opinion you're far from perfect.

●He sees that you're still overthinking and proposes an idea.

"It's been too long since I've had a violin playing companion. Why don't you come over to the Palace every now and then? I'd love to tutor you."

● And so over the next few weeks, you play together and occasionally sing as well in the Palace library. It's huge and quiet and has all the music you could possibly need. He even lets you borrow books and sheet music between visits.

● It's nice spending one on one time with Lucifer. You can really discuss your shared passions with a lot of excitement, and he has no problem matching your enthusiastic energy.

●And sometimes (as long as you don't have any other plans, obviously), he lets you stay around longer to share some tea and freshly made royal pastries.

● The formalities drop between you, and you become close friends, who giggle at inside jokes and stolen glances.

● A few months later, he is helping you learn a very complex Paganini piece. However, the more you practice, the harder it seems to become.

● You groan with frustration.

● He asks you to put down your instrument and then takes a hold of your hands.

"I think I know what the problem is."

"Oh?"

You find yourself subconsciously stepping closer as his thumbs stroke over your knuckles.

"There's too much..." he tries to find the right word, "tension."

With uncharacteristic timidity, you look up, meeting his unwavering gaze.

"Is there anything we can do?" You ask, in a hushed tone, feeling a new sensation of the temperature rising.

Inching closer, he suggests, "Perhaps..."

● He jumps back when he is interrupted by a servant bursting into the room. There's an urgent meeting he has to attend.

● He sighs, almost turning back to say something to you. But he decides against it, storming off and leaving you in stunned silence.

● You lie on your bed back in the Hotel that night, replaying the events of the afternoon in your head, overthinking into oblivion. Perhaps it was guilt? Perhaps excitement? Maybe you had made the whole thing up.

●You jump when there's a knock at your window. Lucifer has turned himself into a bird and he taps once more on the glass with his beak.

●He reverts into his more familiar humanoid form once inside and after a moment of silence he begins to apologise for his behaviour that afternoon. The lack of boundaries, the rudeness of his departure.

●You are glad to accept his apology and forgive everything until he says,

"I don't think you should come back to the Palace anymore. It's nothing against you, I promise. I'm just too... tempted. And I dont know how you feel, but it wouldn't be right to jeopardise our friendship like that. I hope you understand -"

● Something hits you then. You stride over to him and take his uncertain face in you hands. You kiss him passionately, waiting for him to pull you closer before moving back, whispering against his lips.

"Next time you're not sure," you breathe, "just ask."

"Okay." He smiles before dipping you down, causing you to gasp.

"Now my love, let's try this again..."

● He is ever the gentleman in your relationship. Always polite, suave and loving.

●He's your biggest cheerleader, supporting your interests, admiring your physical strength and mental resilience.

●He often creates trinkets for you. Sometimes jewellery, sometimes little ornamental pairs of ducks...

●He's even written a song for you to boost you up on those days when you're not feeling your best and you need reassurance.

● Your senses of humour only grow as the relationship does, and you often leave little notes with puns on for each other to find.

●Eventually, when Charlie finds one of these notes, she is overjoyed. It's been a while since she's seen her dad so happy, and now that she finally knows why, she is eager to welcome you into her family dynamic with open arms.

#hazbin hotel #matchups #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin #hazbin hotel matchup

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scarsnfevers · 1 year

Text

To the Stars — Hyunjin pt. 2

pairing; hwang hyunjin x female reader, (mentions of other members)

genre; titanic!au, romance, fluff, angst, tragedy

summary; the most famous and youngest violinist of her time and a young artist of the lower class on board of the Ship of Dreams? Pathetic, yes, and yet opposites seem to attract.

parts; Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 soon

warnings; mature content, mature language, cursing, tw!death, drinking alcohol (only a little bit), a little bit of smut, smoking (might add more warnings later)

word count; 1,6k

taglist; @hyunskizz, @daiyoon

authors note; Part 2 is a bit shorter as the previous chapter. I hope you like it anyways <3 If there are any typos please let me know

!minors do not interact!

In the evening, I found myself with my mother and my friends in the pompous dining room, which was incredibly large. I had seen some halls along these lines, but this one far surpassed them all. My mother leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I'm going to greet some of the gentlemen, would you like to come with me?" I wish I could have grimaced my face. Even now my mother was looking for a suitable husband for me, although I didn't even want to get married. "Later, I don't want to leave Felix and Jisung alone. That would be rude." I smiled apologetically. My mother gave me an extremely questionable look. It probably wasn't the answer she expected, but she couldn't reply to it. It would indeed be rude to just dump my friends like that. "Well then, I'll be back soon." She got up and nodded to my friends who also heard our small conversation.

I grabbed my glass of wine, even though I didn't like the brew at all, and downed a long gulp down my throat. "Honestly Felix, maybe we should get married." I grimaced as my mother mingled with the crowd. I missed Felix's worried look. It wasn't until he picked up the conversation that I looked at him, "Maybe you should tell your mom what you want?" But we all knew it wouldn't be that easy. A sigh escaped my lungs as I leaned back in my chair a little, "I don't think that would do anything." My mother simply could not be convinced of anything other than her own opinion.

"Anyway." I tried to change the subject. "Ji, how do I look?" I asked. Jisung, who had also been sipping from his wineglass, turned his gaze to me. For dinner I had changed my dress, which now corresponded much more to my taste. At least then my mother didn't constantly interrupt me. "It looks better than this morning's dress." My second best friend agreed. "It flatters your curves a lot more." A formal grin appeared on his lips, leading me to elbow him lightly in the side. "Good to know Mr. Designer." I replied with slightly flushed cheeks. Jisung laughed lightly and toasted me with his glass of wine.

My eyes swept the room as people ate and drank around us. Now and then I caught a look or two from a young men that were intended for me. Presumably, they were also looking for a partner willing to marry. But they were definitely at the wrong address when it comes to me. "It's almost a bit boring here, don't you think?" I remarked casually. Felix's gaze followed mine. He already had more experience with such occasions, so he saw the situation a little more calmly. He agreed with me, but leaving dinner like that would cause more whispering than not sitting still for a while. So we stayed. I sipped my wine again. Maybe I started to like it slowly. "Miss l/n (your last name)?" I almost choked on the wine when I heard someone say my name. I cleared my throat and lowered the glass before looking up at a young man with beautiful eyes. They reminded me involuntarily of a little puppy. "Yes?" Slightly distracted by the fact that my counterpart reminded me of a puppy, I smiled. The young man wearing a tailored suit returned my smile, "My name is Kim Seungmin." At the name, I noticed Felix and Jisung holding their breath for a moment almost simultaneously. It seemed like they knew him? "Y/n, nice to meet you." Am I supposed to know him too? I didn't recognize his face or his name. I gave Mr. Kim a soft smile before he said.

"It's pretty boring here, don't you think? May I sit down with you and your friends? We're sure to have something more interesting to talk about than all the elderly folks who've been chewing my ear off for the whole evening." he answered me. I still didn't know who the young man was, but I found him relatively likable. However, his presence at our table did not seem to have gone unnoticed. I noticed that some people at the tables began to whisper. "It would be our pleasure, please sit down, Mr. Kim." I invited him, which the young man didn't need to be told twice. He took my left seat while Jisung shifted nervously in his chair to my right. "Please call me Seungmin. It sounds nicer when you're called by your first name." Seungmin smiled before a waiter poured him some wine. It seemed like everything in the room revolved around him. My gaze slid briefly to Felix, who also looked at me. However, he seemed to know something I didn't. But my attention returned to Seungmin as he also greeted my friends.

An interesting conversation quickly developed between the three young men, which I listened to. They seemed to get along well, and soon, it became clear why everything here seemed to revolve around Seungmin. "Since my father cannot be present, he asked me to represent him." Because he was none other than the son of the owner of the shipping company that built the Titanic. This realization probably came too late, which is why I sipped embarrassed from my wine glass, which was now almost empty. "Miss l/n, I heard that you are a talented violinist. You have played in several opera houses, but your breakthrough in your career is not that long ago." Seungmin looked at me, which made me stop. Apparently, it seemed like he had heard a lot about me. I nodded slightly in response, "Yes, that's right."

"Then you must be a natural talent." he smiled.

I returned his friendly expression with an accommodating smile just as I was about to thank him. However, Seungmin continued and asked in the same breath, "I'll give a speech on behalf of my father tomorrow night. How about you play something on your violin afterward?" Maybe it was the wine in my blood that made me so calm, or just the fact that I had to process the words in my head first. I blinked several times as if I didn't quite understand the question. Nevertheless, I knew I had to answer him. And now that I knew who Kim Seungmin was, a NO was not acceptable. I knew that only too well. Especially if my mother found out about it... So I smiled and finally nodded in agreement, "It would be an honor." The heat rose to my face as I heard myself say those words. "Wonderful." Seungmin said, raising his glass to toast us all. "I'm already looking forward to hearing you play." I also raised mine and clinked glasses with the three young men. After that, I would probably need some fresh air.

___

"Have you ever smelled sea air?" Jeongin looked at Hyunjin and Minho while they looked around the deck. Unlike the rich people, they didn't get a feast. Nonetheless, the food on board was still better than a stale piece of bread that Hyunjin had occasionally received as a gift from the baker in his neighborhood.

Minho was still eating his bun when he replied to Jeongin, "No, I've never been to the sea, or on a ship." he meant. Hyunjin smiled and said, "Then be careful not to get seasick." The young men strolled down the deck intended for second and third class. It was clear that the first class had a deck all to themselves.

Of course they weren't allowed to enter.

Hyunjin came to a halt at the front of the ship and leaned on the rail behind him. From here you had a pretty good view.

"What do you think New York will be like?" He began to rummage in his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes and an old lighter. "Very different from Southampton. At least I hope so." Jeongin replied before asking for a cigarette. Hyunjin handed him the cigarette he had just started while Minho ate the last piece of his bun before he also bummed a cigarette from Hyunjin, "Of course." meanwhile he said. "It has to be different." Hyunjin agreed with his friend's words with a silent nod. While his friends were chatting about their arrival in New York, Hyunjin's mind wandered from the conversation a bit away as he spotted a young woman on the first class deck. His eyes traced the contours of her face, her full lips, her beautiful nose and her eyes that twinkled like stars in the sky. It hit him from the first moment. He was sure that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

Minho noticed Hyunjin's absence after some a while when his cigarette was almost gone. He followed Hyunjin's gaze scrutinizingly, up to the first-class deck. There, he saw the young woman, which Hyunjin's eyes seem to admire. She leaned lightly on her elbows on the railing as she gazed out to sea and watched the sunset. Minho's gaze slid back to Hyunjin, who seemed to be lost in a daydream. "Forget it buddy." he shook his head. "This is not your league." Hyunjin, however, didn't seem to hear him at all.

He was completely captivated by the sight of this beautiful young woman. But... there was something sad in her eyes. Hyunjin couldn't figure out what it was, but maybe that was exactly what attracted him. He flinched when Minho elbowed him in the side. "Back on earth again?" asked his best friend. Only now did Hyunjin realize that he had lost himself in one of his daydreams. The young man cleared his throat while his friends looked at him in entertainment. "Shall we maybe go back inside? It's getting cold." he meant. His friends agreed, amused. On the way back inside the ship, however, Hyunjin couldn't help but look up at the young woman from the first class again.

Who was she? What's her name? So many questions went through the young man's mind at that moment. Perhaps he would soon get an answer to that.

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 2 years

Text

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for October 2022! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

🔹Do You Have a Reservation? by zmmf / @zaynmaliksmiddlefinger [M, 7k, Zayn/Liam]

Any shift in a restaurant devoid of chaos is probably not a lucrative one —but some are just that extra bit hectic.

Zayn sometimes has to remind himself that with a tight knit crew, you can get through just about anything.

🔹Where Words Fail, Music Speaks by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow [M, 45k, Louis/Harry]

Louis is a world class violinist. He’s one year over forty, living his best life in New York. One day, he comes to a small town in Connecticut where he inherited a house from his late father. The town looks nice and its people welcome him warmly. The problem is that Louis never knew his father and he doesn’t intend to change anything about it - his father can stuff his last will up his treacherous ass. In a strange coincidence, Louis meets town troubadour Harry, who seems wonderful to him just right until he reveals that Louis’ father was like a dad to him.

Even though Louis tries to convince himself that it shouldn’t - it hurts.

written for 1D Silver Fox Fest

🔹Just Pretend by @kingsofeverything [E, 90k, Harry/Louis]

Louis Tomlinson is a divorced dad who doesn't date. What free time he has, he likes to spend with his teenage daughter, and if he wants to take someone home, he does it when she's spending the weekend with her mom.

Then he meets Harry Styles, another divorced dad with a teenage daughter, who convinces him it’s a good idea to pretend they're dating to keep their kids happy.

🔹honey, honey by @kingsofeverything [NR, 100 words, Louis/Harry]

Poem, drabble.

🔹Monday by @nouies [NR, 2k, Louis/Harry]

A flower shop AU featuring a one-sided feud, puns, and a missing cat.

🔹reckless behaviour by @nouies [E, 13k, Harry/Louis]

Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.

🔹Sore Throat by stretchmybones / @harryslonecurl [E, 864 words, Harry/Louis]

Louis complained about having a sore throat on stage during tour and this is what happened beforehand.

🔹Could Be A Catastrophe by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal [E, 29k, Louis/Harry]

He watched as the other man scrunched up his nose, but slid his hand into Louis' nonetheless. “So, where are we going?”

Louis rolled his eyes at the change in subject. “To get some lunch and then I was hoping I could come back to yours?” He glanced over at the taller man with pleading eyes.

Harry’s eyes widened. “That’s very forward of you.”

Louis eyebrows scrunched before he realized the implication behind his words, “Oh. No. Shit. Sorry. I just meant that I wanted to hang out with your cats.”

Or Louis is one of the two veterinarians in town and somehow gets lucky enough for Harry’s three cats to be his clients.

🔹Drunk On Your Lips by Kikiberoski16 / @larrysballetslippers [E, 4k, Harry/Louis]

“Yeah? I’m Louis, does it ring a bell?” She bowed, it was adorable. Harry could follow her long locks sway as she went down. It was hypnotizing. Harry always envied the girls that could grow their hair to their bra. Louis was one of them, while Harry was forever stuck to her curly bob. When she got up again, Harry witnessed a smirk.

That smirk gave her so many feelings. Harry felt like she had known it for ages, but it hurt for no reason at all. Even worse, it stung, Harry just remembered feeling a sharp pain in her chest. “You know what? It does. I remember not liking you.”

🔹wonder what it's like by eynap / @panye [E, 4k, Niall/Shawn Mendes]

“Did you call up a model to fuck you?” Shawn asks from across the room. “I’ve heard of this happening to my coworkers.”

“No, I tried to use magic to make a copy of you from a magazine I had. Or, like, make the photo come to life. I didn’t mean to…” Niall shakes his head. This is mortifying. “I can send you back, hold on.”

Or, Niall uses his Halloween magic to make photos of the male model he's obsessed with come to life. Instead, he accidentally summons the real-life model, Shawn, to his workroom.

🔹You're The Pumpkin Of My Eye by @faithinwalls369 [G, 4k, Harry/Louis]

Harry and Louis go on a seasonal date, that is sweeter than the confectionery in a trick or treat bucket. It’s filled with sweet snuggles, cute kisses and pumpkin picking.

🔹i wish that i could take you to the stars by me_her_themoon / @dreamersdivin-headfirst [E, 31k, Louis/Harry]

Niall is the director and writer of a stage play and he casts his best friend, Harry, as the star of his new play, “Me, Him, and the Moon,” as a prince who’s mesmerized by the moon. When he meets his sunshine-embodied costar, Louis, who is playing the role of a boy who’s deeply enamored with the stars, he learns more about himself and his relationship with love than ever before.

[also, liam is the makeup artist who loves to gossip and zayn is the costume designer who thinks liam is cute]

🔹Under the Milky Way by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom [E, 11k, Harry/Louis]

Louis had always been a prankster, but being on tour provided him with countless opportunities to hone his skills with silly jokes and games, harmless really, and all in good fun. That was until the night he accidentally ended up in the wrong hotel room and dumped a bucket of iced water over a complete stranger.

Or the one where Louis is a rock star on tour, Harry is a free lance photographer, and drinking red wine under the stars might just be worth the hangover.

🔹Who do you belong to? by @huggieshalo [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

“I trust you. You’ll take care of me like I take care of you.” Louis said.

And Harry believes him.

Or the one where they switch roles because it’s good to spice things up from time to time

🔹You Can Let it Go by @huggieshalo [M, 8k, Harry/Louis]

An alternative story where Harry is Matilda, who never stayed with Miss Honey and had to leave with his awful family. After years of being closed off, someone shows him that his life doesn't have to stay the way it is…

🔹something to dream about by @disgruntledkittenface [M, 100 words, Louis/Harry]

Louis gives Harry something to dream about while she's gone.

🔹Could We Live With Just A Taste? by @lululawrence [NR, 17k, Louis/Harry/Nick Grimshaw]

“Green eyes…” Louis mused in the living room. “I swear I’ll come up with something that rhymes with that soon enough. I will.”

“Oh god, you’ve been smoking. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you’d been smoking,” Nick moaned as he turned the corner fully and saw the way Louis was sprawled out on the sofa, his head in Harry’s lap as he poked his fingers into Harry’s dimples.

“Nicholas!” Louis cheered, sitting up. “We’ve not been smoking, but we are a little high. Just a bit. Sit here, sit here. I invited you, which means you’re mine tonight, not Harry’s. Got that?”

Nick looked at Harry with his eyes raised. “Am I usually young Harold’s possession? Here I was thinking I was my own person.”

Both Harry and Louis’ faces scrunched up in looks of distaste causing Niall to laugh.

“Possessive fuckers. Let’s just start the film.”

Or the one where Louis, Harry, and Nick all take awhile to figure things out, but they get there eventually.

🔹Anytime, Everytime by @laynefaire [G, 100 words, Zayn/Liam]

They say confession is good for the soul, but what about the heart? Can it find the right words?

🔹Doin' Somethin' Right by @laynefaire [E, 5k, Zayn/Liam]

Liam is certain he's finally put all the pieces of the puzzle back together. He was back on stage with his boys, doing what he loved, in front of the fans who had never forgotten them. He'd also reunited with Zayn, rekindling the love they'd once thought had been lost forever.

While Liam craved the bright lights and excitement of being on the road, Zayn has eschewed his prior fame, instead choosing a life of relative obscurity as the owner of a vineyard and bed and breakfast in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania.

Liam is determined to protect Zayn's privacy at all costs, but some days the separation is harder than others.

Written for the 1D Country Fic Fest, and inspired by the song Must be Doin' Somethin' Right by Billy Currington.

🔹Hair of the Dog by @laynefaire [G, 100 words, Zayn/Liam]

Sometimes, it's the little things that matter most.

🔹More Than a Mic Drop by @haztobegood [E, 7k, Louis/Harry]

“You dropped the mic last night.”

“Oh, yeah. I did.” Louis gives a little shrug. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his baggy grey sweatpants.

“That was really careless.” His tone is very stern, unlike his usual bubbly and helpful voice when he suggests Louis try singing a chorus for the third time as he adjusts the sound mix again. Harry levels him a serious look and suddenly the room feels too hot. “You could have broken the mic and we don’t have a lot of spares.”

🔹under all the summer skies by @orchidsbyjune [G, 4k, Harry/Louis]

“I wait every year for summer, and it is usually good, but it is never as good as that summer I am always waiting for.”

- Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn; in a letter to Hortense Flexner and Wincie King.

Or The summers in which Louis was in love.

🔹the scent of love by @orchidsbyjune [T, 3k, Louis/Harry]

“ As a constant, Paris would often wonder what makes someone somebody. They would, as any other, spend a lot of their time just guessing what brings life to someone. They live by the guesswork, and the fun it brings just trying to figure out what keeps them up, what brought them the courage to leave everything behind and see the world out there. ”

— A story of survival, of courage and love.

🔹love letters by @orchidsbyjune [T, 940 words, Louis/Harry]

It’s a love letter.

🔹Driftwood by @justanothershadeofblue [M, 51k, Harry/Louis]

Eroda was all Harry knew. He lived there all his life, but he always knew he was peculiar. He had dreams that go beyond this small, cold, and lonely island. He wanted to leave; he HAD to leave. But that meant leaving Louis...

Harry is a lonely and depressed popstar who sailed out of his hometown on Eroda years ago to chase his dreams. He comes back to the island only to find his shining childhood best friend Louis just as cold and dreary as the island they grew up on.

🔹Dip you in honey by @lunarheslwt [M, 7k, Louis/Harry]

Louis bucked his hips, arching off the couch, moans spilling like honey. “I’m so close already, oh god.” Harry’s relentless grinding was just the right pace, and his mind was slowly turning into nothing but a pleasure-filled haze, and nothing could stop him from hurtling over the edge soon- “Oh fuck, my cornbread!” Louis reeled. “Wha”- “My cornbread. I’d left it in to bake, remember? I think it’s starting to burn!” “You can’t be serious, Harold.”

Or, Harry has been baking cornbread for seven days in a row. Louis has no idea what’s going on, but is ever the sweet and supportive husband. At least their baby, Amelia, seems placated by the bread.

Contrary to popular belief, there is however, a thing such as ‘too much bread.’

Based on a reddit story!

🔹Flirting In a Sushi Restaurant by @littleroverlouis [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Bright green eyes slowly blink up at the ceiling and his glossy pink lips are frozen in a small smile. Louis’ eyes trail down from his tattooed collarbones, to his toned chest, and land on the leaf dotted with toro scallion rolls under his rosy nipples. He feels like a bit of a creep hovering a set of tongs over someone’s nipple, but was a sucker for a toro roll. A deep voice startles him as he grabs a second roll. “Big fan of those I see.” Louis jerks his hand back, the roll dropping from the tongs and landing on the model's arm with a dull plop. “Shit, fuck,” Louis stutters. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. My name's Harry.”

Or sushi model Harry flirts with hungry Louis.

🔹be the artist to my muse by forthetherapy / @forthetherapyy [E, 9k, Harry/Louis]

“I think I’m in love,” Harry says, flopping back to lay on the bench again. Nick sighs and pats Harry on the head. “There, there. You’ll forget him in a day or so.” or harry has been unsuccessfully pining over louis for a while now, he decides to take drastic measures to get the alluring artist to notice him.

🔹When the Dust Settles by @mercurial-madhouse [E, 5k+, wip, Louis/Harry]

Threatened by the power omegas hold, alphas waged a civil war that resulted in the extinction of male omegas. Three centuries on, Louis and his lads risk their lives smuggling the omegas that remain to safety. When Louis proves the impossible to be possible and presents as a male omega, will the quiet rebellion he's worked so hard to create be maintained, or will his newfound abilities destroy all he's fought for?

🔹i am easy to find by safetyfilm / @larrieblr [M, 4k, Harry/Louis]

“Am I bothering you?”

Louis doesn’t have to look up to know who it is, not by the voice. He takes out the final package from the mailbox, a fond grin on his face as he answers, “Love, you could never bother me.” He stacks the package in the crook of his elbow, and looks up, then his smile falls into confusion. “But - wait, you’re supposed to be at work?”

“I finished a meeting, took an early lunch,” is Harry’s excuse, as he comes up by Louis, but not entirely. As if he’d been afraid to touch him.

Louis isn’t one to be observant, but today, now, Harry’s caught his eye, and something tells him to look closer.

Or, where two people try to follow their dreams but time isn't on their side.

🔹gallery of us by @levelofcharm [E, 55k, Louis/Harry]

In spite of wanting to sound lucid and coherent for his own big jump, Harry wants to be near and touch, wants to listen to whatever the omega’s saying because he loves that voice, and he's always hated talking unless he has to. They're a good pair, the two of them, a perfect balance. Louis’ all sunshine, good vibes and healthy eating, lingering hugs and sticky cheek kisses, and Harry's the complete opposite without explanation, but fuck, it feels good to be around someone like that. To have someone like that in his life at all. Harry wants to protect his affectionate ball of light from the world's ignorance, wants to help add to the glow like starting a snowball, rolling it around until it can’t get off the ground because it’s so heavy from all the effort, patience and commitment.

Harry knew what he was doing in life, everything laid out in black-and-white, each day pleasantly predictable. Cue lively art student, Louis, trying to find his place. An almost insufferably happy person who sometimes forgets to hide the way they feel meets the person who is diligent enough to notice and determined to make a difference.

#28th appreciation #1dficvillage #1dsource #trackinghome #tracksintheam #trackinghappily #1d-library

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asherloki · 1 year

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Allow me

BBC victorian Sherlock

Part one guide me Mr Holmes

After coming back from the ball, I couldn't stop thinking about the fairytale evening I had. Through the ride to my house my friends only talked of me finally dancing and asked about the charming lovely stranger.

"Mr Holmes" this name was all that was on my mind. Gaining a bit confidence to sneak out and visit Baker Street was not that piece of a cake. Yet I did, visiting Baker Street was an excuse that I used to get out of my house, real reason was 221b. As my chauffeur stopped infront of the address I've given. I got down. Old fashioned small house it is, decent looking. Entering I found a staircase, was told leads exactly to the flat I intend to visit. Standing infront of the door I tried to observe, or rather think, what must be going inside, what must he be doing "Mr Holmes".

'tap' I knocked with my nuckles. Thought it was too light so I called out "Mr Holmes?"

After a few seconds later I could hear heavy foot Steps running to the door. The whole wooden floor must be vibrating. There the door creek opened. And it was he, standing infront of me again. But he looked as if he was working through the night, with his hair being messy one can figure that out.

"Welcome" he said with a smile. And slide away so I can enter. Entering his flat the first thing that hit was the sunrays from the window. Then as I looked around, it was a mess. There was barely any space on the floor to walk, it was filled with, what I presume case sheets.

"I'm afraid my room isn't quite clean, oh and sorry I had this case that's eating up my time so the other cases , well I didn't have space to put them in, or time" said he from behind "but please don't be reluctant to feel home, I'll just clean it up".

"It's alright" I said turning to him a bit. He smiled as he did the first time our eyes met. I walked or managed to walk to the other side of the flat, was it kitchen? A dining table? Where's the kitchen stuffs then ? All kind of chemistry stuffs were put in the kitchen.

I couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"Yes I know, not exactly how some normal person would keep their kitchen right?" He said now, this was when I laid my eyes on him properly that day, that charming man, in his silk dressing gown, yet elegant, or just to me. Blue Eyes , still reminding me of ocean.

"It's fine" I said, thinking 'maybe this is the reason I didn't find other normal men attractive '.

"Come sit" he asked me to sit on his couch. I did and then said, "but wasn't I asked to come for dance practice?"

"I believe so, but you can sit until I can make some place for us to dance, the floor is a mess"

saying this he began taking the papers from the floor.

Looking at other parts of his flat I found his violin couldn't help but take it in my hand. I could feel his eyes on me even though I wasn't looking at him, rather admiring his violin.

"Allow me" he said from behind taking my hand still holding his violin and putting the violin on my shoulder. And his other hand held my right hand with the bow. smoothly he let the bow go over the string while guiding my fingers to hold some chords of it properly.My heart was beating fast and loud, nervousness of holding an instrument I never played before. Or maybe his hands holding mine. I bet even he heard it, he was rather close to me, too close I feared he could read my mind, if he could, it would've interested him, to solved the puzzle of my thoughts. But perhaps it was still hidden from him. It buzzed, making the perfect sound, well atleast to me. The violinist behind me knows if it was good or not. But it did make some sounds which were pleasent to the ear. After a few more melodious notes I had to put the bow down. Why? No it wasn't cause it was heavy, or difficult.

Because I was getting lost with him, in his melody, I had to get back from my daydreams.

"That was great Mr Holmes ". I said, yet not facing him, as he was still behind me.

"Hope you liked the violin lesson" he said with his heavy voice. To this I turned. And remembered I have to get back in time, or they'll find out I'm meeting someone.

"What's the time ?"

He took out his pocket watch and said, "just one and a half hour since you've got here".

Two hours? Are you fooling around with me ? We played that instrument for fortyfive minutes? I thought to myself. Then said aloud,

"Oh I have to go".

"This early? What about the dance".

I didn't know what to answer to that, so I stopped at the door step. Until he came and said, "perhaps this Friday at the same ball? If you're interested".

Another fairytale dance. I thought, my face lit to the thought I nodded and went down stairs smiling. As I was getting into the carriage I glanced at the window of the very flat, seeing the very man by it, holding his violin and beaming at me. I got onto my carriage, the chirping of birds, the voices of people, the sound of the horse shoes hitting the road as it ran, couldn't prohibit the melodious violin to reach my ear. It was his, I know.

Tagging @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x y/n

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theresa-of-liechtenstein · 3 months

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i can feel the perfectionism kicking in and am desperate to keep it at bay but. concert 1/2 reflexies (<- how someone says reflections when something is seriously wrong with them)

in the gap between warmup and tuning in the green room, two violas, two violinists, and an oboist all agreed that i looked like i should play the clarinet. literally what is it about me that makes practically everyone think i have played the clarinet at any point in my life

we should be addicted to starting the damn concerts on time. i’m actually serious we started at least five minutes past the hour and without the pre-show recording

to my absolute horror, i forgot to put on my mute at the VERY top of the VERY first piece and tita conductor had already given the downbeat so i cued the entrance while putting on my mute, missed playing the first notes, and joined in the second measure. fuck my stupid baka life etc

the first page of the saint-saëns was actually the worst thing ever because some of the winds missed their entrances for the first time in my memory. i have no idea which because i have a tricky part to lead and that’s my main focus but i just knew it Did Not Sound Right.

and what was worst of all was the front row seat i had when tita conductor actually mouthed ‘WHAT?’ when the winds didn’t come in and looked genuinely aghast

so that was really awful. but things happen, even if they do happen in a performance. it can’t be helped

that did sour my mood for the second half, but i really tried to enjoy the mixed bag symphony, especially the brahms, but—the energy really wasn’t there for me and i am just so, so grateful we get a do-over tomorrow

however tita conductor did ask the string principals to be recognized one-by-one at the end of the concert after the winds so i got to stand and be recognized 🥹

it was very dark when i got off the stage but i could vaguely see tita conductor in the dim. the concertmaster was in front of me and she told him ‘good job’, then turned to me and just. applauded me. i think she must have said something as well but i don’t remember any of it because my foot caught on something

i sort of stumbled, but tita conductor reached out, caught me, and steadied me on my feet 😭😭😭 really went from girl help! to girl, helped

then she said aside to a stage manager ‘let’s get that dismantled now’ regarding the thing i almost tripped over, then let me go on my way

also i am on first name terms with ate honorsprofessor now. girl help

and tomorrow we do it all again. thankfully

#em jumped up busker

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vchroniclesin2022 · 1 year

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Overindulgent fic idea with Nicki

Ok, so. I have so many ideas for fics with Nicki.

Unfortunately, I don't write. But please take them if they inspire you!!

So, Lestat seduces Louis in New Orleans in late 700s as canon. But this time Lestat isn't with an old father. Lestat is with a beautiful deranged dark-haired young man. So! Lestat and Nicolas go to live with Louis.

Highlights!

Nicki didn't kill himself, I mean, Armand didn't kill him / pushed him to suicide, with the hope that Lestat would have turned back in Paris sooner or later. As matter of fact, after Marius and Akasha Lestat comes back. Nicki is deranged, violent, self-harming, and so go on. Also he screams he hates Lestat so much, he hates being a vampire, he hates everything. Lestat understands that Nicki doesn't wish to stay in Paris anymore, or, better yet, staying at the theatre doesn't help him in any way. So he brings Nicki with him to the New World.

Yes Nicki screams every night he hates him and refers to him as his captor, a monster! But Lestat tries to stay strong: if hating him and hurting him and insulting him helps Nicki, then he will gladly bear his anger and hate. He just wants to take care of him.

Lestat falls deeply in love with Louis. Yes, he resembles Nicki, but he is also different. It's like meeting another soulmate. A miracle.

Lestat of course still loves his first soulmate. He loves them both so much.

After seducing him, Lestat turns Louis. And then he moves in with Nicki.

Louis is shocked and enraged. Who is that other young man? This deranged violinist who plays beautifully and hates so deeply? Who is dark and violent and desperate?

(He was just a mean for Lestat, wasn't he? What a fool, to think he could be loved)

Lestat doesn't introduce Nicolas as his lover because Nicki is clear about his hate and Lestat respects his wishes (at least in this case).

Consequences: Nicki, who still deeply loves Lestat (you will take this from my cold dead hands), thinks that Lestat is ashamed of him and doesn't desire him anymore.

Consequences II: Louis thinks that of course Nicolas and Lestat are lovers and he's just the side dish.

Louis is very sad, also jealous and angry. Still, he continues his "affair" with Lestat because he destroyed his life. Might as well enjoy his mess of a situation. A good punishment, he longs for it.

All this volatility brings in him a sort of lust and excitement for life which at the moment is stronger than his death wish.

Nicolas is unhinged, deranged, and desperate. He proudly declares he's evil and enjoys hurting. He's a creature of darkness. His very art is dark and evil.

Lestat is volatile with Louis but incredibly tender with Nicki. Louis is jealous of the sentiments of tenderness Nicki inspires him, while Nicki thinks that Lestat is so disgusted by him that he treats him like a rabid dog.

Lestat kills humans and for a twist explains Louis his philosophy of killing only evil men and women. Louis doesn't agree but concedes that this is an interesting point.

Nicolas can't hunt because he's too unhinged. Lestat kidnaps victims for him to kill in his rooms. Louis thinks that's touching, Nicki thinks that's humiliating.

Nicolas continues to play the violin and plays beautiful hunting music. Louis is very moved by it.

Lestat of course doesn't say anything about his past. Louis thinks he doesn't trust him, Nicolas thinks he is ashamed, Lestat in truth is traumatized.

Seeing Lestat taking care of Nicolas shows Louis how much caring and tender Lestat can be, and he aches for it.

Nicolas is very jealous of Louis, a sane beautiful blood drinker who looks like he will be Lestat's perfect companion. Nicolas hates and loves and hates and loves Lestat. And he wants him so so so much and doesn't deserve him. A creature of darkness like himself never deserved a man of hypnotic irresistible light like Lestat.

It's time to really kill himself, end his suffering, set Lestat free.

He manages to escape and go out by daylight.

Lestat manages to save him. But he is burned, too.

Louis has to take care of both. And yes, this includes kidnapping victims for them.

Lots of meltdowns, angry screaming, confessions and tears.

And then, Lestat manages to tell Nicki he loves him, still. Yes, even as a hurt desperate vampire. He just wants him to be safe. To find a reason to be alive.

Nicolas is able to recognize his own love for him. To see that Lestat never wanted to hurt him. It just happened. So many things happened. and Lestat got so hurt and scared and alone.

Louis is able to understand that Lestat doesn't see him just as a substitute for his ill lover or a source of money. Lestat genuinely fell in love with him, too, he has the capacity to do this.

Vampires are monsters and still can love.

Eventually, they start to heal together.

Nicolas finds a new almost enjoyment in life. In music. In new art.

Nicolas and Louis talk and find kinship. An understanding. They both long for and fear death. They both are prone to depression, to cynicism, to self-destructive behaviors. They both love and doesn't understand Lestat.

Lestat opens up about this past with Louis. His hurt, his traumas, everything. He just leaves out Nicki's story, it is for him to tell.

Nicolas tells his story.

Lestat behaves better, Nicolas lets go of much of his anger. He doesn't want to burn anymore. He doesn't want to hurt Lestat anymore.

Louis doesn't want to die and waste away anymore. Actively taking care of them did wonders about his depression and cynism.

They all need so much time to heal.

And then, a polycule. Lestat has Nicki and Louis, and loves and is loved by them. Nicki and Louis find a strong affection for each other.

Happy ending!!!

#nickistat #loustat #iwtv #the vampire chronicles #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #nicolas de lenfent #i need this #overindulgent ideas #lestat x nicolas #lestat x nicki #i am starved #let nicki be happy 2022 #nicki desperately loved lestat fight me

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aj-the-terrible · 6 months

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Bitter : One {Aro x Fem!Reader}

Author's Note: This is my first real writing for a long time so PLEASE give me feedback. Tell me if I need to add more detail, if the characters seem kind of OOC, if the world building needs some more work. I will not be offended. This is the first part so it's main objective is to give background on the story so feel free to give suggestions or thoughts on what might happen next. Please enjoy!

Side Note: I felt a Fem!reader suited more for what I had in mind for the story, but if you would like a more variety of pronouns, please pair it with any suggestions you make.

Please Enjoy!

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I like to think that God heard my prayers that day, but I know I was saved by the Devil himself, and I will forever be his servant.

It was my big day. The sun was setting gorgeously along the horizon. Italy at this time of day was my favorite. It was when everybody turned in for the night, dreaming of tomorrow. It was a shame I was here under horrible circumstances. A soft knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts.

“It’s time," rang the voice. No joy or excitement could be heard from their voice. A sad ballet played in the atmosphere of the building.

I wore a red wedding gown, the last sign of my rebellion against my family. Red was my favorite color, always has been, and forever will be. It was in the style I had always wanted. A floor-length ball gown with intricate embroidery and lace on the bodice The lacey sleeves flowed down past my wrists. The finishing touch of my red veil flowed behind me as I walked the aisle.

Silent tears rolled down my face as the music chimed in my ears and I stepped through the ceremonial doors. Getting married to a man I did not love or even like was going to be my undoing. I had dreamed of doing so much more with my life, but now I would only be a trophy wife.

It was my “in-laws” fault. They had heard me, the daughter of the largest stockholder in the area and a world-class violinist, had slept with their son, Marc, and an evil plan had been formulated. They spread rumors and even showed evidence to Marc that I was pregnant. He insisted we get married, and my family did too. I had never seen my aunt Judy turn that shade of red before. Nobody believed me when I told them the truth. Marc’s family spouted lie after lie. But I just didn't care anymore about how I got to this point.

The tears were gone when I made it to the altar. I was irritated; I just wanted everything to go back to how it was. I wanted my freedom back. I wanted my choice back.

I looked up to the man, who was oblivious to all the wrongs he was doing to me, and stared resentfully into his eyes. He didn't seem phased by my dried tears or sour expression. I turned to look back at the guests and became even more bitter.

I wanted a grand wedding one day, one filled with the people I loved. Now I was stuck with my freedom in another person’s hands. Andin a room with everybody who wanted to either marry me off or cause me emotional, and maybe even physical, harm

I had tried to run away, but they caught me, and there hasn’t been another opening in a long time. I was so stupid getting caught; I should have waited longer. And now, here I am in front of our families and maybe some of Marc’s friends, about to become a shell of myself for the rest of my life. Anyone who didn’t agree with the wedding was not welcome at the wedding, which included the people I cared about most.

I didn't realize how close my life was to being officially over until the priest said "Speak now or forever hold your piece". The tears started up again. I was going to be bonded forever to somebody so blind and a family so vile. What more could they do to me?

"I object." Someone, whom I hoped was my savior, spoke. Everybody turned towards the church entrance, and there stood a group of eight people clad in black cloaks. Even from that distance, I could tell exactly what color their eyes were. Red. Blood Red.

My mother stood from her seat up front and turned to sneer, "And who are you to object!?"

Like lightning, the whole group was suddenly standing between the altar and the guests that sat in the church rows.

"Someone who thinks the bride and groom are not fit for each other." The man had porcelain skin and black hair that was slightly past his shoulders. A wicked smile spread across his face as he slowly turned and looked at everyone in the room. When his eyes stopped on me, I couldn’t help but feel fear creep through my body. His eyes were wild, almost animalistic. He was more dangerous than anyone I had ever met before. His stare made my need to run even higher.

I merely blinked before I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a hand wrap around Marc’s throat. A face was in his neck, and then I heard him scream. The whole room was filled with screams and blood within a few seconds. I was frozen in fear as chaos erupted around me.

I then saw the black-haired man, who spoke before slowly creeping his way towards me. With the way he looked at me, I was sure he was a cannibal, and from the way I saw the blurs of his comrades out the corner of my eye, it seemed like a cannibal with superhuman abilities.

My body filled with adrenaline as I turned my head to run and was slammed on my back. I couldn't even take my first step to try and escape. A hand around my throat squeezed tightly. A pair of familiar blood-red eyes stared into my soul. His black hair hung gracefully like a curtain on the sides of our heads as he moved his face closer to my ear.

"Always a bridesmaid, but never a bride," he whispered in my ear before I felt him bite into my neck. My scream got stuck in my throat. I tried to claw out of his grasp, but it was like prying a stone from brick from a wall.

I didn’t know how much worse my wedding day could go until the cannibal began to suck out the blood in my neck. The pain of being drained like a blood bag was excruciating; it felt like I could faint from the pain alone. It didn’t last long, thankfully.

The cannibal man threw himself away from me and began gagging on the blood he had taken from me. He looked like he ate a bitter fruit. He even started coughing.

I coughed and my lungs to finally having oxygen again and quickly applied pressure to my bloodied neck. This was my chance to try and run again.

‘Fuck everybody else in the room; I need to get away.’ I stood up and ran about three steps before I was grabbed from behind. I couldn’t tell who it was. Another set of fangs entered my body; this time they were along my shoulder. My scream filled the room this time. My body throbbed in pain, but then I heard a gasp, and I was let go again. I stumbled before running again; I wasn't going to stop now. I had to keep going.

As I was about to get down the altar step, a hand wrapped around my throat and lifted me straight into the air. The lack of oxygen was going to put me into a coma if this continued. I heard a deep growl.

"Who are you?" It was the same cannibal man that bit me the first time.

I struggled as he squeezed my throat tighter. I couldn’t tell him my name if I wanted to. I began to fade un and out of consciousness. The black dots were dancing along my vision. I couldn't hear the screams of my wedding attendees anymore, and then I felt like I was being watched by more than one human-eating creature now.

"What happened?" A strawberry-blonde man glared at me. The black-haired creature stared at me, frustrated, before dropping me on the cold, hard floor. I gasped for air, like a fish out of water. I felt weak: my hands seemed to shake from trying to hold myself up.

"This one is a frustrating dilemma. She will be taken back with us immediately!” The man with black hair walked angrily away, taking two more creatures with him, leaving me with five pairs of red eyes.

I only stared at the red eyes around me in fear. The blood of the dead around us had certainly been the cause of all their cloaks looking heavy and wet. I didn’t even look around at the bloodless bodies in the church because I knew I would be sick. I can't fathom why it had to come to this. My life only got worse and worse. Why did this have to happen to me?

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Thank you for reading! If you have any feedback, I happily encourage you to tell me what you think!

And as of right now(when this is posted), I believe this fanfiction will be a 4 or 5 part series, so be on the lookout!

#the twilight saga #twilight #twilight fanfiction #writing #the volturi #suggestion #wedding day #blood #death #fem reader

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vyloy · 2 years

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Hajime x a male reader who was the ultimate violinist and a participant of the killing game but he forgot what happened so Hajime tries to explain or remind him of sorts? For the 100 followers event btw. Your works are so cool!

100 Followers Event

Hajime Hinata, 日向創 x male reader

Fujoshis dni, you will be blocked

Tws: none

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"I have no idea what you're talking about, Hajime", you chuckled, thinking everything your boyfriend's saying are hoaxes, maybe he went mad, "Y/n, please listen, i need you to remember", he grabbed your shoulders to face him, "I am listening bit what you're saying is ridiculous, if all my friends died then why are they standing there right now", "That's what i'm also telling you, it was all a realistic simulation, we killed each other in crude ways, you were one of them", "jeez, stop scaring me, you might actually make me thonk i died or something", you laughed it off, removing Hajime's hands off your shoulders, "you did! At least in it, please, believe me", he begged, if it wasn't for you two being in public, he would have gotten on his knees by now, "Hajime, your joke had gone a bit far, it might be fun for you but the onger you tell me all this, the more i'm terrified", "if you think i'm making this up, why would you be terrified?", he asked you, "I get this feeling whenever you mention it, it's really not important", you shake it off before walking back to your group of friends.

Seeing you enjoy your time with your friends, warmed his heart but he cant remove that image of you that night when you had gotten brutally murdered infront of his room, he had only found your body when he suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, the image he saw will forever haunt him, he wants you to remember, to remember all those times you both went on dates in the simulation, he cherishes those memories as they were the only ones keeping him sane, you kept him sane, when you were gone, he felt empty, a piece of him broke.

When he had gotten out of the simulation, he wss ever so grateful everything was fake, he still felt emotional pain but as long as you were still alive, only, you now had no memories of what happened, that hurted him even more.

"How do i get him to remember...", Hajime ponders around, brainstorming ideas, he wishes to share those memories with you, stories you two might tell to your children, adopted or not.

"Hajime, go to sleep, it's already late", Akane said as she passed through the room Hajime was walking back and forth in, "ah did i wake you up? I apologize", "Nah, you just seem to be too worried, you should get some rest before thinking about this again", "do you have any ideas on what to do, Akane?", Hajime asks his friend for help, "hm, what about something he enjoys, something he only did in jabberwock island? Other than that, i dont know what to suggest you", she shrugged before walking back to her room, leaving Hajime with an idea.

♪♫♭♩~

The sound of the Violin playing could be heard, Hajime had gone to the building next to their sleeping quarters to play the song you had composed for him, a beautiful set of melodies, all just for him, it made him feel really special and it always will, he had practiced it in hopes to show you his skills, but you had been murdered before he could show you, now he would get to show you and in the process, hopefully get your memories back, no matter how slim the chance is, he won't back down.

"What's that beautiful noise?", you went to investigate the building to see Hajime playing the violin, "I didnt know you excelled at the violin, Hajime", Hajime looked at you, got up from his chair and walked towards you.

"Do you remember this song?", he asked, hoping you could remember, "I feel like i've played it before..Hey let me give it a try", you walked past Hajime to the violin and started playing the strings

♪♫' ♭♩ ♪♪♫♭♩~♭♫♩~

Hajime watched in amazement, you had remembered the song, does that mean...

As you finished the song, you burst into tears and throw yourself at Hajime, pulling him into a tight hug, "I remember now, everything we did together, i'm so sorry", you cried, finally remembering everything, " no worries, i'm glad you're back now, Y/N", he said lovingly.

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Finally finished, i'm so sleep depriveddd, i'll do reqs after a few weeks since exams...

Taglist: @secretivemessenger @ohdearalatus

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa hajime #sdr2 hajime #hajime hinata #hajime x male reader #male reader #x male reader #100 followers event by vy #vyrie's sfw thoughts

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sope-and-shine · 2 years

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Feelings In Major - Part 3

-> PAIRING: PIANIST!YOONGI X VIOLINIST!READER -> SFW(PG-13) // FLUFF, ANGST // S2L -> WORD COUNT: 10.8K -> SUMMARY: IN A KINGDOM WHERE MUSIC RINGS FROM THE LOWEST DUNGEON TO THE FARTHEST MOUNTAIN PEAK, IT’S NO SURPRISE THAT EVERYONE WANTS A CHANCE TO PLAY FOR THE ROYAL FAMILY. HOWEVER, ONLY ONE CAN BE CHOSEN, AND THE ROYAL MUSICIANS WERE THE BEST OF THE BEST. THE ONLY OBSTACLE THAT STANDS BETWEEN YOU AND BEING ONE OF THEM, IS YOUR COMPETITION AND YOUR STAGE FRIGHT. IT WILL TAKE A MIRACLE TO GET YOU ON THAT STAGE…OR JUST A GRUMPY PIANO PLAYER. -> WARNING(S): FEM READER, MILD LANGUAGE, MILD VIOLENCE, IRRATIONAL MEN, READER HAS IMPLIED THOUGHTS OF SA TOWARDS YOONGI’S INTENTIONS AT FIRST(YOONGI IS A GOOD GUY - THE BEST GUY - NO WORRIES, NOTHING ACTUALLY HAPPENS), SELF DOUBT, YOUR DAD IS A BIT OF A DICK

a/n when I started this idea over a year ago, I did not anticipate actually getting to the part where I post it. I still have 6 of these to go, but I’m honestly really proud that I’ve actually done this.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Masterlist

Most brides when they see the white of their dress think of the new chapter in their life they’re about to begin. They think of this light washing over them that greets them into the world of marriage. They think of all the possibilities the future holds in store for them. But you don’t think of any of those things. You can only think of one thing when you see the color of your dress.

Piano keys.

You can see them laid out in front of you, playing along to a melody that has only seemed to become softer as the days go on. They’re played by long, slender fingers your hands have become so used to holding. You think of how soft they are, how they envelope your own. You think of the way they write on parchment, discarding one sheet after another.

You think of him.

Yoongi.

The man who you’ve slowly fallen in love with.

The man you’re not marrying today.

“Alright, the guests were finally able to make it through the square. We’ll give them a few moments and then we’ll join them.” Your Father explains as he enters the room. He’s wearing his best, and he stops as soon as he sees you dressed and ready to go, “Oh, you look beautiful.”

He places a hand on each of your shoulders with a proud, adoring smile, but you don’t even recognize your reflection in the mirror. The lace gown is only just nicer than regular formal wear, something your parents splurged on for your big day. It’s collar just shows off the top of your chest, a simple, ornate necklace on display. You can see it just through the veil that’s been drawn over your front. You look exactly how a bride should look on her wedding day, but you don’t feel how a bride should. You should be beaming and jumping in excitement, but you aren’t.

Nothing about today is for you.

“Thank you.” You try your best to seem happy and content, but it’s hard when you’re only moments away from sealing the rest of your future. Your Father can see right through you.

He moves a hand to your face and moves a stray strand behind your ear, “Dear, you’re getting married. You should look happy.”

“I am happy.” You assure him, but your words are empty.

He shakes his head, “You don’t look it.”

“Well, I’d be much happier if I wasn’t being forced to marry someone.” You mumble, intending to keep it to yourself, but he heard you.

“We had a deal-” It’s not the first time he’s tried to defend his decisions to you in the past month. He’s started a million explanations this way, and you’re tired of hearing him try to win your favor! You’re tired of him casting your feelings aside! You’re tired of him acting as though he did nothing wrong at all!

“-and you broke that deal the minute you broke my violin!” You interrupt, blowing up in anger. Your Father takes a step back, surprised by your outburst. You’ve never been one to outwardly express your anger, and even when you have in the past, it’s never been this extreme. You’ve always been soft spoken and precise, saying what you needed to and then remaining neutral. But there’s only so much one person can handle, “You didn’t even give me a chance…”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, “We gave you plenty of chances. You didn’t take them.”

“You didn’t listen!”

“You were fooling around with a man who wasn’t your husband, like some harlot! He wasn’t even courting you!” He scolds, reminding you of the position you put yourself in. At least in his eyes, that’s the way it seemed.

“He was helping me!” You argue, a defense you’ve been pushing ever since that day they found you and Yoongi. But he hasn’t listened to you yet, and he won’t be starting now.

Your Father scoffs, “Oh, it looked like he was helping you, alright.”

You say nothing in response. You always lose your words when it comes to him, because no argument you make will ever be good enough for him to ever listen to you. And what hurts more is that he won’t even take your character, one he’s watched grow since you were a baby into account for everything. He’s thrown your happiness out the window, and he’s throwing you out with it as well.

He takes your silence as a win and sighs, “I’m done talking about what’s in the past.” He reaches for the veil atop your head and pulls it over your face, “You’re getting married to Lord Kang, and then you can get over this.”

“So, my happiness means nothing to you anymore?” You ask, your numb gaze barely hidden by the curtain he’s placed between the two of you. A symbol of the wall he continues to create to push you further and further away.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. Instead, he fixes his posture, “I won’t hear any more nonsense from you.” He takes your arm in his and pulls you to his side, holding tightly to your arm as if he’s afraid you’ll run away at any given moment, “Now, I better see a smile on your face when we make it to the church.”

“Whatever you say, Father.” You answer in a monotonous tone, casting your head to the door and your eyes to your feet.

The way to the church should be happy. It should be exciting and leave you giddy because you’re just teeming with excitement to spend the rest of your life with someone you love! But the walk from your home to the church feels like a walk to the gallows. You feel as though once that ring is placed on your finger, you’ll have the carpet ripped out from under you. What makes it even worse is the joyous cheering from the competition. You can hear the crowd as they cheer and clap, and you listen as they welcome their next performer. You listen as the song starts, and it’s the 5th selection. It’s the piece you’d wanted to play so badly at first, but Yoonig forbid you from playing it. He said it was too easy, too safe, and too expected. He said that too many people would play it, and it didn’t matter how beautiful it was. He said that after hearing it so many times, the crowd would dull like a blade. And with every step, you come to realize just how right he was.

It’s repetitive, plain, and boring. It doesn’t give life or variety. It’s just a simple melody that everyone knows. It’s something familiar that you enjoy, but it’s nothing new. Even when someone else plays it, it’s still the same melody and adds nothing to the selection of musicians. It’s a safe option, but it’s not the best option. But it’s far too late to back out now.

For you and the performer both.

Part of you is glad that, at least if you’re being forced to do this, that you at least have your Father to hold onto. You still have him there to keep you grounded, even if you’re still furious with him for the choices that have led you both here. It’s hard holding back your tears, but they threaten you with every step you take towards your fiancé. With every step, you leave behind the life you want for a life that you can never get rid of.

“And who gives this woman away?” The priest asks when you make it to the end of the aisle.

“I do.” Your Father answers. He reaches out for Lord Kang’s hand and pulls you toward him, bringing your hands together for him to lead you the rest of the way to the altar.

“Very good. You may all be seated.” You hear everyone move to sit behind you, your Father joining them as well. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we gather here today to join these two in Holy Matrimony. Now, before we begin, if there is anyone here with reason as to why these two should not be wed, then you may speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You hold your breath, knowing that if you let it out too soon that you may be the person to object your wedding. You instead busy yourself in the silence of the room, waiting eagerly for someone to interrupt it or for the priest to make it end. Outside, you can hear the muffled cheers of the crowd dying down as the next musician begins to play. It’s one of the more exciting pieces from the competition list. Your second choice that Yoongi was a bit more understanding of, but it still didn’t please his taste. Oh, what you would give to play it now.

“If no one has any objections, then we may proceed.” The priest announces after giving everyone ample time to come forward. You let go of the breath you were holding, but it gets caught in your throat again, “Lord Kang, please repeat after me: I, Lord Kan-“

“STOP!”

You turn as soon as you hear his voice, gasps leaving the crowd behind you. Jogging up the aisle, dressed in his performance clothing of the Royal Musicians with his hair combed back is Yoongi. It’s a bit messy and he’s out of breath, almost as if he ran all the way here. At his side, he carries a case. He stops just at the steps of the altar and takes a deep breath, “Stop the wedding. Please.”

The priest takes a hesitant glance between you and your betrothed and Yoongi, “Sir-“

“I object this wedding!” Yoongi interrupts, eyes so fierce with determination, he even takes you by surprise.

Lord Kang scoffs next to you, “On what grounds?” He looks Yoongi up and down as if he’s a child, looking down on him. He doesn’t seem convinced that Yoongi has any reasonable grounds for objecting. And he has good reason to be skeptical, because Yoongi has no ground to object.

Yoongi sees this and his lip quirks in a smug grin. He meets your eyes and points to you with his free hand, “On the grounds that this woman is already married to me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, knowing very well that you and Yoongi never once uttered any marriage vows to each other. You look to your parents to see their reactions, and they look just as shocked as you feel. Your Mother seems almost heartbroken, and you can’t even begin to imagine what must be going through her head. Much less, you can’t imagine what’s playing behind your Father’s eyes.

A strong hand grips your bicep, Lord Kang pulling you towards him. His eyes are like daggers as he scowls at you, “What is he talking about?”

In this situation, what are you to say? That you don’t know why he’s talking about and continue on? To accept this as a sign of fate and run away? You have no good explanation for what Yoongi’s doing right now. Much less an idea of where to begin with them throwing you on the spot.

You shake your head and try to pull yourself out of his grasp, “I-“

“Get your hands off her, at once!” Yoongi demands, storming up the small staircase and pushing himself between you and your betrothed. He stands tall with his back straight, his arm thrown over your arm that’s been grabbed. He acts as a barrier between you and Lord Kang, ensuring that even if he were to pull you, you’d still bump into him before he could run off with you.

Lord Kang cranes himself over Yoongi, attempting to intimidate him with his size, “You dare try to stand between me and my bride?”

You grab onto the back of Yoongi’s coat with your free hand, scared that Lord Kang really will attempt to pull you from behind him. Or worse, he’ll try to hurt Yoongi just to get to you. But Yoongi doesn’t falter.

The musician remains tall, mustering every bit of confidence he has to stand his ground, “We got married in secret 2 months ago by a warlock. The Royal Librarian to be more specific,” He emphasizes, dropping a hint of his own importance and status. It startles Lord Kang enough for Yoongi to remove his hand from your arm and move the both of you back a few steps. But he makes sure to show no visible signs of retreat, “His magic is binding and that makes this woman my wife.”

Lord Kang looks furious, and he turns to your Father for an explanation as the crowd begins to mutter around them. You pull at Yoongi’s coat and whisper furiously, “Yoongi, what are you doing?”

He turns around, finally able to face you for the first time in months. His hand gently raises to cup your cheek, “I’m buying you time.”

“Yoongi, we’re not married.” You remind him.

“If you still have any faith in your dream-! If you have any faith left in yourself, then please come and play! Please don’t sign yourself away when you can still perform for the Royal Family.” He pleads, keeping his voice hushed so others won’t hear his plan.

“Winning won’t stop my marriage. He already has my dowry!” You explain.

“Then you can pay it back to your parents with your winnings!” He argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh, “I’d have to win first, and I’m not even on the list! I don’t even have an instrument to play either.”

He shakes his head, “Yes, you are. And yes, you do.” He drops his hand and lifts up the case he’s been carrying, making quick work of the latches to open it up.

Inside is a violin, brand new and polished. It’s body is a lighter color, and you can’t tell if it’s made out of rosewood or spruce. But you couldn’t care less about the wood type when you’re completely distracted by the Larches carved into the skin. They decorate the outline of the body, acting like a chain. Everyone is detailed and softly etched so it won’t disturb your playing. Something like this must have cost a fortune.

You softly trail a hand over the etching before you look up at the brave pianist in disbelief, “Where did you get this?”

“I made it.” He admits sheepishly, his ears turning a soft shade of red. He averts his gaze to the piece in his hands, “It took quite a bit of work, but I stayed up for days just to finish it for you. I even made sure to put you down for a time that we can play together.”

This time, it’s you who reaches out to cup his cheek, lifting his chin so he’ll meet your gaze. You search his eyes for anything, wondering what he must be thinking at a time like this, but all you can see is his sincerity. Thinking back on the first time you met, to end up here seems almost asinine, “You did all of this for me?” You ask.

“I-“ He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. It’s like he’s contemplating in his mind what he should say or how to explain his actions, but nothing seems good enough. He sighs, “We both have worked too hard to let this chance just slip away. You can still live out your dream.”

“You really think so?” You ask.

“I do.” He says. He takes a quick peek at his watch and his eyes go wide, “But if we want this to work, then we need to go.”

He starts to close the violin case, but you’re still left wondering what will happen here if you leave, “But the wedding-“

“Will be postponed until they can prove I’m lying.” He reminds you, that smug grin from earlier returning.

It takes you a second to realize that he’s right. They’ll have to get in touch with the officiant that orchestrated your ceremony, and that will still take days to finalize. If all works out, you’ll have already won the competition by then. Yoongi really did think of everything before he put his plan in motion, and you’ve never been happier to know someone like him. You can’t help but smile just thinking about it, “You really are a genius.”

“I know~” He teases, “Now come on.” He takes you by the hand and once again puts on a brave face for the crowd as you attempt to leave, “My wife and I will be going now.”

“Now, just you wait a minute!” Lord Kang steps in front of the two of you, putting a hand out to stop him. He tilts his head back, nose pointed upwards as he looks at Yoongi like he’s beneath him, “Her dowry has already been paid for! I’m not just going to let you walk away with her, nor will I give it back.”

“Then keep it. Unlike you, I can afford to marry a woman without treating her as a trade and still take care of her financially.” Yoongi assures him, “She’s my wife, so that’s my responsibility, but she’s not staying here with you.”

The Lord’s eyes narrow. It’s not hard to tell how entitled he is,especially when he gets face to face with Yoongi, “Who do you think you are?”

“I can be your worst nightmare if you don’t back off.” Yoongi answers, remaining strong despite his distaste for confrontation. He can feel you shaking behind him, and he squeezes your hand to comfort you. He doesn’t want to subject you to this any longer, so he takes a deep breath to ease his own nerves, “Keep the money you’ve been given. Just leave us alone.”

He pulls you behind him once again to go around Lord Kang, but the man makes no attempt to stop you this time. You think Yoongi’s actually done it when you hear your Father call from behind you, “(Y/n)-!”

Both you and Yoongi stop, looking over your shoulders to see your Father standing in the middle of the aisle, he seems angry, saddened, and embarrassed. You can only think of how this must have tainted your pride, and a part of you hates that you’ve put him in this situation. But it’s Yoongi’s comforting hold on your hand that has you remaining strong and resilient.

He gently tugs at your conjoined hands, “Let’s go. We can still make it.”

You spare one final moment of attention for your parents, before you turn on your heel and pick up the front of your dress to follow Yoongi out of the church. He stops just outside to help you grab enough fabric to keep you from tripping and holds it between your palms as you make your escape down the steps. You follow him down the cobblestone road, your heels clicking with every step you take. The wind tousles your pinned hair, a few pieces straying from where they were. But you pay them no mind.

You continue to let Yoongi guide you behind a large crowd, a contestant currently playing with another pianist accompaniment on stage at the very front. You can see her Lady and Prince Seokjin on their stand, watching the performance front and center. You can already feel the nerves building in your stomach, but you try to push it down like you and Yoongi had worked on before you were torn apart.

He leads you to the side where kingdom guards keep watch over the contestants. One of them seems to recognize him and moves to let him through, “Yoongi! There you are! What took you so long?”

“I had some convincing to do.” He simply says.

The guard turns his attention to you, doe eyes looking you up and down before he turns back to Yoongi, “Is this her?” He asks.

Yoongi’s grip on your hand tightens and you can see red rising to his cheeks once again, “We can do introductions later, Jeongguk.”

Yoongi pulls you along, Jeongguk waving after you. He drags you all the way to a tall man with brown, messed up hair standing by the stairs. A pair of wire rimmed glasses rest loosely on his nose as he stares down at a clipboard. A woman stands behind him on the first step onto the platform, resting her arms on his shoulders to read its contents.

The woman notices them approaching first, her eyes lighting up when she sees the two of you, “Yoongi!”

The man looks up as well, scrunching his nose to push his glasses further up. He smiles, “Hey! So, I’m guessing it actually worked?”

Yoongi looks to you and then back to the man, nodding, “Min (Y/n), please.”

The woman immediately starts looking over the list, running her finger down the participants while Namjoon reads over them. Both of them seem very unfazed, but you’re taken aback, “Min?” You ask, feeling a bit of heat rushing to your face.

“We’re married, remember?” He teases, shaking your intertwined hands. The simple action makes you smile, and you can’t help but giggle with him.

“Oh!” The woman roughly taps her finger against the paper, “She’s next.”

“I’m next?!” You ask in shock. You turn to Yoongi in a panic, “Yoongi-!”

He’s quick to set the case down and grab you by both shoulders, making sure to look you in the eyes, “Stop, okay? You can do this. I know you can do this, just as we practiced.” He does something you would have never expected from him, using one of his hands to pull your head towards his and press your foreheads together while the other rests against your waist. He holds you tenderly against him, eyes closed, “It’s just going to be you and me up there.”

You’re left locked in his embrace, eyes staring at his calm facade. He’s done everything he told you he hates doing all in one day. Confrontation, causing a scene, showing public affection, and even running. He’s done it all just for you. And even after all of that, he still stands here trying to comfort you enough to break free from your troubles instead of taking a moment for himself.

He makes you feel safe.

You ease into his embrace, your fingers grabbing onto the fabric of his coat at his waist. You accept the comfort he offers you and take a moment to relax. You think of all the advice he’s given you so far, and all the wonderful memories he’s helped you create up until this point. You want to win and continue creating memories like those, but everything will be for nothing if you lose.

You squeeze your eyes in frustration and pull him closer, “Yoongi-…what am I going to do if I lose?”

“I guess I’ll have to cough up the money for your dowry and you’ll just have to be married to me for the rest of your life.” He says. You open your eyes and find he’s already looking at you. He seems content with the idea, and he smiles when he sees the shock written across your face, “Think you can handle having someone as grumpy as me as your husband?”

You don’t know if it’s because you’ve become friends or if this is all a part of one grand gesture, but you couldn’t care less. Not if he was offering himself to you, “I think I could learn to manage.”

The music on stage stops and the crowd breaks into applause, and you pull back just enough to look. The man and the woman who’d checked you in take that as their cue to head up on stage themselves, but not without wishing you good luck over their shoulders.

“Here-“ Yoongi leans down and opens the case, making quick work in removing the violin before you really do have to go on. He hands it to you, “-Just remember that it’s only you and me, and no one else, okay? Just play for you and me.”

You nod despite the anxiety building up in your system. Then suddenly, an important realization hits you, “I haven’t even tuned!”

“First of all, you don’t need to tune. Even without tuning, you’d still play beautifully. Second of all-“ He flicks your arm, leaving a small sting behind as he feigns offense, “How dare you assume that I - Min Yoongi - would give you an instrument in a time crunch and not tune it!”

“Let’s give him another round of applause!” The man encourages the crowd, clapping her hands after the boy coming your way. Behind him, the pianist that was accompanying him also makes his way down. He makes eye contact with Yoongi, and he nods.

“Let’s welcome back to the stage, Royal Pianist Min Yoongi!” The man announces, clapping his hands for everyone to join along.

“I need to get up there. Just breathe and I’ll see you on stage.” He assures you. He lets go of you and makes his way to the stairs, going up halfway before turning around, “I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. He just continues on to the stage, waving to the crowd as they applaud for him. You watch him from backstage with your violin in one hand and your bow in the other, seeing him disappear to his piano just like that. He’s sitting down at his piano to play with you.

And you’re going to join him.

“And for our next contestant…Min (Y/n)!” The two cheer together. They look to you from their spots on stage and you feel the air leave your lungs. Every part of you wants to run, but you know you can’t. You can’t run forever.

So you close your eyes.

Take a breath.

And you make your way up the stairs, holding your violin and bow in one hand and your dress in the other. Looking over the crowd from the stage, it looks like there are far more people than you anticipated. You cast your gaze over the Prince and his Lady, taking note of their watchful eyes. You hope no one minds your attire for today, though you can’t hear any protests over the sounds of the cheering. You glance at Yoongi and he offers you a comforting smile.

The man and woman wave you towards them, bright smiles on their faces. The woman offers a comforting hand on your elbow, “Miss Min, what piece will you be performing for us today?” She asks.

You try your best to refrain from looking down, mustering up all the courage you can to look at her as she speaks to you, “The 7th piece.”

“That’s the hardest one! Only 3 other contestants have played it for us today.” The man says, making your heart drop.

It’s not that you weren’t aware the piece was hard, you just haven’t played the piece in a while. What if you forget what you were meant to be playing and you throw Yoongi off? What if everyone else did 10x better and you’re left looking like a fool for even trying. You’d disappoint everyone.

You’d disappoint Yoongi.

“I’m sure we’re all looking forward to hearing you play it.” The woman assures, squeezing your arm. She taps your elbow, drawing you out of your thoughts and offers you one last smile, “Please, do your best.”

You nod and she turns back to the crowd, “Min (Y/n), everyone!”

She, the man, and everyone else cheer once again, the two slowly backing away to exit the stage. They leave only you and your violin, and Yoongi and his piano. They leave the timing up to you, but you can already feel the nerves kicking in.

The eyes staring at you, the whispers finally reaching your ears. Even your own intrusive thoughts begin to sink in, and it makes your skin flare up like there’s a fire beneath you. It isn’t too late to back out. You’d just be the weird contestant who fled from her wedding just to flee from her other responsibilities as well.

You turn to eye your exit when you catch Yoongi’s stare from the corner of your eye. He sits with his back tall, hands ready on the keys, and waiting for you. He remains calm, and his eyes are only on you. He doesn’t look to the crowd, he doesn’t adjust his music, he barely even blinks. He just waits for you with a soft smile, like he knows there’s a war going on inside your head and he’s waiting to triage the broken parts.

You shake your head, squeezing the life out of the neck of your instrument, ‘I can’t do this…’ You mouth, your voice coming out in a hushed whisper.

You expect him to frown. You fully expect him to shake his head and tell you to go, but he doesn’t. He remains seated with that same, calming smile, “It’s just you and me.” He assures you.

That mindset is easier said than done.

He takes a deep breath. He emphasizes the intake and the release, trying to get you to mirror his actions just as he’s done before. He does it again and you try your best to mirror him, taking a few solid breaths of your own. He nods to your hands, and you get the message.

With a slight tremble, you gently separate your bow and your violin. You rest the body on your shoulder, tucking it underneath your chin. It eases the shaking of that hand, but the hand that holds your bow still trembles with uneased nerves.

Yoongi checks over his hand position once more - as he does start this piece - before he looks back at you, “The music. Fuel the music.”

He’d said that to you before, the day he’d dressed you up for his own personal enjoyment and sent you out to the streets. He’d said that if they can’t see you, then they can’t really say anything good or bad about you.

“But it’s not you that they’re judging. It’s the music and how you perform it. If you perform well, then you’re not bad. You might just not be the best, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

You try to let those words sink in, allowing the good memories to ease you. Everyone had cheered for a you they didn’t know. Everyone danced to a song they didn’t know was played by you. If they could do that, then maybe they’d do it again. And maybe it doesn’t really matter if they do or not. Even if you’re the worst performer today. Even if you perform so badly that they have to kick you off the stage, you’ll have done it. More importantly, you’ll have performed with Yoongi in front of the royal family just as you’ve been wanting to.

It’s now or never.

You straighten up and let your shoulders roll back, tightening the grip on your instrument to end the trembles. You give a firm, curt nod to Yoongi, letting him know that you’re ready.

He nods back and adjusts his position one last time. He meets your gaze one last time, lifting his head up and softly counting off for the two of you before dropping his head and striking the keys.

You count with him, listening as he begins the soft ballad. You only rest for a few measures, and then you’re to join him for everyone to watch and listen. You don’t want to turn around, but you know you’ll have to actually perform if you want any chance at winning.

So, you close your eyes. You let yourself feel the tempo. You try to imagine that you’re not on a stage in front of hundreds of people, but back in your clearing in the woods. You try to picture the night sky and the stars above you. You try to imagine that the wind blowing through your hair is the same cool air that kicked leaves into your hair and crunched under your feet. You try to imagine a Yoongi that doesn’t play the piano with you, but sits on a log with his own eyes closed as he listens to you play.

And then it is your turn to play.

Yoongi’s lone melody echoes in the air at the hold in the music. He looks to you, trusting you to continue on as it’s written in the piece. He knows you’re nervous, and he knows that this situation is quite literally a make or break for you. But he knows your talent, and he knows deep down that you want this more than you’re willing to let your anxiety rule your life. He knows that you can. He knows that you’re going to be just fine.

And then, the sound of your first note rings out as you drag your bow over the strings. Your eyes remain shut, but your face is relaxed in pure concentration as you focus on the music and not the crowd. Yoongi plays along with you, adding his own part to help guide and support the music and your thoughts.

And his playing puts you at ease, the familiar clacking of the keys furthering your mental paradise. It reminds you of his escape in the woods, a cabin where he can create without any disturbance. You can see the warm glow from his candles illuminating his face as he plays, head bowed as he lets himself feel the music that he’s creating. You can see his pleased smile when something comes together. You can see him so perfectly.

You don’t even notice yourself turning around, playing for the audience instead of only playing for Yoongi. You don’t pay attention to the hushed praise or the eyes that linger over you. You think of only one set of eyes that would bore holes into your head if he ever caught you out late at night. A pair of eyes that belong to the raven-haired, piano prodigy that plays alongside you as - not an acquaintance anymore, but - a friend.

Perhaps, he is much more than just that as well.

The thought makes you smile, and you want nothing more than to see the real thing for yourself. No more imagining Yoongi as he plays, but you want to see him. How could you miss such a wonderful opportunity to make a great memory when it’s right in front of you?

So, you turn back to him, leaning into the music and opening your eyes. You watch him as he plays along with you, his gold buttons and trim shaking as he performs. His movements are intense, but the music is nothing but graceful. The way he strokes and fingers the keys, making each note just as important as the last. He’s completely invested into the music, and it makes you smile to see him painted this way.

For a moment, he looks up to watch you as well, and he catches you looking back. He’s shocked at first, glancing between you and the keys, and wondering if you’re actually playing with your eyes open. But as he continues to play, and he continues to catch your stare, he can only beam with pride.

No one misses the smile that grows on the usually cold pianist's face, and they don’t miss the bright smile that adorns your own when you finally turn back to the crowd. Even as you continue to perform for the audience, you still have moments where it looks as though you’re only performing for him. And in your own way, you really are only performing for him.

But it’s because he’s encouraged you to perform for yourself first.

Your piece finally comes to an end, both you and Yoongi nodding to each other at the cut off. It’s clean and precise, and you can still hear it echo in the wind as people begin to cheer. And it takes you by surprise to hear their applause. You spent most of your performance focused on Yoongi, that you forgot you were performing for a real crowd.

You let your eyes roam over the crowd, taking in their pleased expressions. You take in their smiles and their words of praise. You look to the Prince and his Lady, and you swear it almost looks as though the Lady has tears in her eyes as she politely claps her praise.

“Wow! What a performance?!” The man from earlier cheers, clapping his own hands as he makes his way to you with the woman right behind him. He stops on your left and motions for everyone to calm down and waits until they’ve eased enough, “I think we can all agree that that was quite the show!”

“Very beautiful, indeed~” The woman agrees from your right, “Why don’t you take a bow?”

She and the man take a step back, leaving you to bow on your own. But how can you bow on your own when you didn’t perform on your own?

So you turn back to Yoongi, finding him preparing the bench for the next pianist. You wave to grab his attention, nodding for him to join you at the apron of the stage. He hesitates for a moment, knowing that this is your moment and that being the accompaniment is all he’s meant to be, but you insist.

He leaves the piano to join you front and center on stage, blood already rushing to his ears. He steps between you and the woman on your right, looking just as nervous as you probably do. You move your belongings to one hand so you can grab his, but he stops you. He gestures to you, smiling at the crowd as he patiently waits for you to bow. You oblige, placing your free hand on your chest as you bow to the crowd in front of you. And when you come up, it’s your turn to gesture to Yoongi for his own moment of recognition. You can tell he’s not used to being in his own spotlight, but he still has more performances under his belt than you. And when he finishes his bow, it’s him that makes the grab for your hand. He smiles, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, before leading you into a bow together.

The crowd cheers you on, and when you stand up again it’s the man that announces this time, “Thank you both for your performance today!”

You bask in the moment, hand-in-hand with Yoongi for just a second longer before you both make your exit off stage for the next round of performers. As soon as you make it off the steps and back to the performers tent, you immediately drop Yoongi’s hand to throw your arms over his neck. It takes him by surprise, but he accepts it nonetheless.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You cry, holding him tight.

“No need to thank me,” He assures you, letting his arms wrap loosely around your waist, “I was happy to do it.”

“No, you weren’t. Not for all of it.” You remind him, making him chuckle. You pull away just enough to look at him, and you cup his cheek with your free hand, “You helped me make my dreams come true today, Yoongi. That means so much to me, and there are only so many ways to say thank you. How else can I show my appreciation?”

He ponders for a moment, seemingly hesitant once again. Only this time, he says what’s on his mind, “Maybe, you and I can continue to be married even if you win?” He asks sheepishly, a tinge of red on his cheeks.

“Is that a marriage proposal? A real one, this time?” You tease, adding to the redness that’s already spreading over his face.

Even with the embarrassment he feels, he doesn’t let it stop him this time, “It is.”

You feel a mixture of happiness and embarrassment of your own at his answer. Of course, you’d love to marry him! You’d rather marry him than the man you were going to marry. You just can’t help how flustered the man makes you.

You use Yoongi’s hold on you to your advantage, loosely returning to his embrace and hiding yourself in his chest. He chuckles, but it’s cut short when you whisper for only him to hear, “Well, then I accept.”

Yoongi lets the news sink in, pulling you tighter against him and hiding his face in your hair when it finally hits him. He can’t help but smile, “I’m so proud of you.”

He pulls back again, moving one of his hands to push back a stray piece of hair. He lets his hand rest at the back of your head, meeting your gaze. His eyes flicker to your lips, and you let out a sharp intake of breath. He studies you, your eyes and your face for any signs or refusal, but you don’t show any. If anything, you want to find out just as badly as he does.

He leans in, slowly inching closer to your face until you can feel his lips in front of yours. He hesitates, and you know he’s trying to give you one last chance to back out. But you don’t need a way out anymore. You lean forward, making the move to press your lips against his. You grab onto the nape of his coat, but it’s short lived.

“Yoongi-! Oh…” You both pull away, turning your heads to see the man from the stage tight-lipped as the woman taps his arms.

“Namjoon!” She scolds, obviously upset that he interrupted a moment.

“I’m sorry, Nari.” Namjoon apologizes to her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He looks to you and Yoongi and bows his head, “Sorry, you two…”

“It’s fine.” You assure him.

“Yeah, no harm done.” Yoongi agrees. He takes a step back and grabs your free hand before you can pull it back all the way, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to the back of it like a promise. He lovingly smiles at you, looking through his lashes, “We have time.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks and you try to push it back down, but it’s almost impossible to push down the pride you have in this moment. You both have grown so much in the months that you’ve come to know each other, and that’s something you never thought would be possible. Even more so, you never thought that you would both fall for each other after the history you’ve created together. But you’re happy that you have.

“Miss Min!” Jeongguk calls. You both turn to the guard as he approaches, slightly worried, “There’s guests here to see you, Miss Min.”

“It’s Mrs. Min.” You correct, taking Yoongi by surprise. You notice and laugh, “Don’t give me that look when you just proposed to me!”

“So, you two admitted it!” Nari cheers, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“We did.” Yoongi confirms, squeezing the hand he still holds. He turns to Jeongguk and nods in the direction of the tent entrance, “Who wants to see her?”

“Her parents.” He answers.

You tense at the mention of your parents. You’d done so well putting the wedding, the crowd, and everything else behind you that you forgot about the consequences entirely. You can only imagine what they have to say to you. Even worse, what they may do to you after learning that you “married” without their knowledge, and left the wedding they arranged for you. You can only imagine the amount of trouble you’re about to be in.

“Hey-“ Yoongi shakes your intertwined hands, pulling you out of your thoughts, “We’ll talk to them together. I got you into this mess, and I’ll see that you get out of it one way or the other.”

“Here, I can take that for you-“ Namjoon offers, reaching out to take your violin out of your hands. You move to accept his offer, but both Yoongi and Nari try to intercept it before you can successfully hand it off to him.

Nari brings it to her chest, turning to Namjoon with a gentle smile, “I think I should take this one, Joonie.”

Her smile does nothing for him though, as he’s still very offended, “I’m not going to break it!”

“I’d rather not take the chance.” Yoongi says, making you giggle.

Namjoon scoffs in response, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s not like I can’t fix it.”

“We know, Joonie, but it’s probably for the best if you stick to your books.” Nari pats his arm. You know she means to comfort him, but the poor man doesn’t seem very comforted.

He pouts, “I feel very targeted.”

Yoongi chuckles and turns to Jeongguk, “Why don’t you lead us to them, Jeongguk? We probably shouldn’t keep the in-laws waiting.”

Jeongguk nods and turns to lead the way, Yoongi following after him with your hand held tightly in his. Before, you had both run away hand-in-hand from the danger your parents were bringing you, and now you’re walking towards it.

You see your parents just outside the tent, your Father waiting patiently with his arm over your anxious Mother’s shoulders. Though, their mannerisms switch when they see you approach with Yoongi. You try not to shrink when you see them, but you know you can’t help but feel smaller after everything that happened with them. You can only hope that Yoongi is still just as resilient as he’d been earlier.

“Here she is, folks. A very talented daughter with her very talented husband.” Jeongguk announces, moving the small wooden barrier so you and Yoongi can exit the tent to properly greet them. He doesn’t seem to notice the tense situation, but you, Yoongi, and your parents don’t make a mention of it. He smiles, “Make sure to be back before your next performance, Yoongi.”

“Will do. Thank you, Jeongguk.” Yoongi nods. He exits the tent with you, keeping you close now that you’re in front of your parents who don’t seem very happy to be there. He bows to them as his greeting and nods to a clear space just a bit further away from the crowd and the performances, “Should we move somewhere just a bit more quiet?”

“Of course.” Your Father agrees, deciding to remain civil.

For now.

Yoongi leads the way, holding your hand through the crowd. You do your best to stay with him, but it’s hard to walk with people stepping on the back of your dress every now and then. One tug has you almost tripping onto the cobblestone beneath you, and it’s a good thing Yoongi has a tight grip on your hand to keep you from tripping entirely.

“Here-“ He drops your hand in favor of grabbing the train of your dress. He bunches the fabric up in his hand until he has enough that it won’t get stepped on as you walk. You try to take it from him, but he keeps a tight hold on it. Instead, he wraps an arm around your back and places his hand on your waist to keep you close. His actions have the heat rising to your cheeks once again, and you can feel lightness in your chest just from having him take care of you.

You make it to the open area and Yoongi stops, turning you both around so you can properly speak with your parents. He doesn’t move his arm, nor does he drop your dress. He waits for them to speak.

Your Father stands tall, your Mother’s arm locked in his. His expression is stern, one you’ve become accustomed to in the past few months. Your Mother seems conflicted herself, but your Father’s expression is almost unreadable.

“I have almost no words to describe how I feel at this very moment.” Your Father says. This is how most of his “disappointment” speeches start, showcasing his own emotions to make you feel even worse. Where most men would find their emotions to be a weakness, your Father always managed to use his to his advantage. Especially if it meant he could sway a decision of yours. Only this time, there’s nothing he can sway anymore. This time, he’s the one that’s been swayed. “I’ve been humiliated in front of the public, taken advantage of by some swindler who bed my daughter, and lied to by my own kin. Have you no shame for what you’ve put me through?”

Shame.

That hits you hard.

You’d never planned to bring shame to your family name. Only pride and honor. You’d wanted to be the best violinist in the kingdom, not the worst daughter a set of parents could ask for. Not when they’ve given you so much. But you couldn’t afford to lose yourself either. You had an opportunity for you, and you took it. And while it may have been a selfish act wrapped in chivalry, it was still something that you’ve planned to do since the beginning. Something your parents had encouraged at one point as well.

“Father I never meant to hurt you-!” You try to explain yourself, but your Father raises his hand.

“I’m not finished,” He spits. You shrink back into Yoongi’s side, and he squeezes your waist. Your Mother gives your Father a pointed look, but he ignores her, “You’ve tainted my pride. I’m very likely going to be scorned for years because of your reckless actions!”

He’s not wrong. Everyone may be distracted by the competition today, and maybe even a few more days after that! But it will fizzle out, and then the vultures will come looking for something to tear into. They’ll tear into your parents, they’ll tear into you, and they’ll even tear into Yoongi. While his actions have brought you together and granted you an opportunity you didn’t think you’d have a second chance at, it’s created a domino effect. And sooner or later, all of the pieces are going to come crumbling down.

Just the thought of what people may say or do rattles you, and you can only hope that you win this competition. Otherwise, you’ll be defenseless for years to come. Forced to hide behind another to shield yourself from their tyranny. And your parents won’t have anywhere to hide.

Your Father’s anger is justified, but it doesn’t take the sting of his words away. Nor does it coming into the open help to dissipate his shaking voice, “And what’s worse is you’ve gone and done something so remarkable! How can I be mad when you’ve finally taken a stand and put your fears behind you?!”

It takes you a moment to process what he said. Had you heard that correctly? You turn to Yoongi, confused, but he’s just as confused as you are. You turn back to your Father in hopes of clearing the air, “What…?”

It’s your Mother who finally pipes up, a content smile on her face, “(Y/n)…you played so beautifully up there!”

“You watched me perform?” You ask, shocked to hear they’d been in the crowd. You hadn’t seen them from the stage, but you weren’t really looking at the crowd. You were far more focused on other things than scanning the crowd for familiar faces.

“Did you think we’d let our daughter run from her own wedding and not follow her?” Your Mother laughs. You’d thought that they’d disown you the moment you left the church. You thought after everything that happened, that they’d be more than willing to write you off and take their chances with the loss. But you never thought they’d come and follow you. “We watched the whole performance. Everything!”

“Though, I didn’t anticipate your husband would be up on stage with you.” Your Father grumbles, eyes glaring daggers at Yoongi. He didn’t know everything Yoongi had done for you. They still didn’t even know the truth behind that morning they found you with Yoongi. It isn’t right or fair for them to judge him on a lie! And if he’s to be your husband from here on out, then they’d need to know the whole truth.

“Right, about that-“ You start, but you’re stopped by Yoongi pulling away from you. He drops your dress, and you’re confused until he drops to his knees and lowers himself onto the ground.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, bowing as low as he can possibly go.

“Yoongi-!” He’s showing respect to your parents on the basis of a lie, and you can’t let him apologize for something that isn’t entirely his fault. But Yoongi doesn’t let you stop him.

“I should never have encouraged her to marry me so soon and without your blessing,” he continues, “I had hoped to court her properly, but I couldn’t control myself with a woman like her. Someone so kind, so beautiful, and so talented. Please, forgive me.”

Your Father eyes him, his demeanor unchanging. You look between the two, and you’re honestly worried your Father might take the chance to kick him while he’s down. But he’s much too prideful a man for that.

“Get up.” Your Father demands. Yoongi does as he’s asked, standing up once again in the face of your Father. He stares Yoongi down, thoughts racing through his mind that you wish you could hear. But they only come to you in the version of skin meeting skin. A harsh slap being brought down against Yoongi’s cheek.

“Father!” You cry. Your arms move to comfort Yoongi, but his right comes out to stop you from coming any closer. The pianist keeps his head held high in the face of your Father, but he doesn’t retaliate.

Your Father sees his resilience and sighs, “Let’s make one thing clear, Min Yoongi. I don’t like you. I don’t approve of you marrying my daughter, I don’t appreciate you going behind my back with her to do so, and I don’t appreciate you making me look like a fool in front of a family with such a high status.”

Yoongi nods, “I understand, sir.”

“But I can appreciate the confidence that you’ve helped her build and the encouragement you’ve given her to do her best.” He admits, much to your surprise. He seems almost accepting, despite what he’d said. He sighs, “And I suppose I can’t ignore the fact that you do take care of her.”

“He really does!” You assure him, placing your hands on Yoongi’s arm.

“Will you really pay back her dowry?” Your Mother asks.

Yoongi nods, “It’s my duty as her husband to do so. Down to the last copper piece.”

“If you do that and you continue to care for her and you make her happy, then-…” Your Father extends an open palm to Yoongi, “I suppose we’ll learn to accept this less than agreeable situation.”

Yoongi shakes his hand, and you can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around your Father, “Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you!” You cry. You pull away, letting your hands rest on his shoulders, “I promise, I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will.” He assures you, leaning down to place a kiss against your temple.

Your Mother squeezes in for her own hug, squeezing you tight before she returns to your Father’s side, “Go on. You shouldn’t loiter around here when there’s more performances to be had.”

“Right.” Yoongi agrees. He bends down to grab the fabric of your dress again, “We’ll come find you when she wins.”

“Yoongi! We don’t know that I’m going to win.” You remind him, cheeks hot with embarrassment from his praise.

“I’m confident you will.” He argues, a teasing smile on his face. He wraps his arm around you as he’d done before and bows to your parents, “Until later.”

“Until later.”

The two of you make your way back into the crowd, leaving your parents behind. Of all the ways that conversation could have gone, you didn’t think it would end like it did.

“All things considered, I think that went very well.” You say to him, relieved that your parents weren’t entirely cross with you.

Yoongi nods his head in agreement, “I’m not dead, so I think it went pretty well.”

“Does your cheek hurt?” You ask, remembering that he didn’t let you check after your Father hit him.

He shrugs, “It stings, but that will go away before dusk.” He pinches your waist and you look at him, seeing a mischievous smile on his face, “I’ll have you for much longer.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your first reaction is to elbow him out of embarrassment, “Don’t be so cheesy! It’s weird.”

“Why not? How is it weird?” Yoongi laughs, chuckling at your expense.

“Because it’s you!”

He scoffs, “Am I not allowed to woo you? And here I thought you liked my charming wit.”

You roll your eyes, letting your arms cross over your chest, “There’s no need to woo your wife.”

“I beg to differ.” Yoongi argues. He comes to a stop only a few feet away from the performers tent and pulls you towards his front. You gasp in shock, and he smiles, leaning down to place his forehead against yours, “You just wait until this whole ordeal is over with, then I’ll sweep you off your feet and show you just how charming I can be~”

“Yoongi-!” You scold, hitting his chest for being lewd in public.

“I meant proper courting!”

—-

As soon as it started, the competition finally came to an end. Many contestants performed, having traveled the kingdom from far and wide just for the occasion. Everyone did their best, and you can only hope that your best was enough for you. You stand patiently in front of Yoongi, brimming with nervousness and excitement all at once. Yoongi does his best to keep you calm, but even he’s anxious to know who would win.

The only people on stage are Namjoon - who you’ve come to learn is the warlock that “officiated” your marriage - and Nari. They talk to the crowd and entertain them as the Royal Family makes their decisions, Namjoon’s magic being what helps them to amplify their voices.

“Just remember, even if you lose, you still did exactly what you said you would.” Yoongi reminds you, hands rubbing up and down your arms as if he’s trying to warm you up.

“I know…” You try your best to listen to him, knowing that he’s right. But the sting of losing will still hurt in the end with or without him.

“Oh, what’s this? Thank you, Sir (name).” Namjoon suddenly says, his voice cutting through the hushed chatter of the crowd and the performers, “It would seem a decision has been made.”

“Here we go!” Someone squeals behind you.

“I’m so excited!” Another voice chimes in.

“I can’t wait to get up there when they announce my name.” Another boasts, making your breath hitch.

Yoongi pulls you into his chest and rests his head against yours, “Just breathe.” He encourages.

You do, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against his. No matter what happens, you’ll still have Yoongi either way. You’ll still have your parents, you’ll still have the confidence you’ve slowly built, and you’ll still have your violin. Losing will hurt, but maybe you’ll be okay.

“What am I going to do if I lose?” You ask, working to keep your breathing steady. It’s just so hard now that everything is starting to come together. And with it all coming in at once, it’s so easy to lose it all as well, “I’ve spent so long dreaming of doing this, and now it may not even happen.”

Yoongi wraps his arms around your front and sighs, “Then we’ll find a new dream for you.”

“With much insistence from Lady Yeeun herself, our new Royal Violinist is…” You can hear Nari pause, adding to the suspense of the moment. It almost kills you inside just waiting for her to call the name of someone that isn’t you. You just want her to rip off the bandaid and get it over with so you can get on with your life and find a new dream.

“Min (Y/n)!” Namjoon yells.

You can hear the crowd burst into applause, and the claps and whines of those around you. It takes you a moment to even register that it was your name they announced until Yoongi starts to shake you from side to side in excitement.

“You did it! I told you, you would win!” He yells, squeezing you and jumping up and down.

“I won?”

“You won!”

“I won!” You repeat, the realization finally sinking in.

You turn around in Yoongi’s arms to throw your arms over his shoulders, squeezing him just as tightly as he squeezes you. All of your hard work paid off. Every stupid exercise, every extra minute spent awake, and every painful moment of disappointment finally got you to where you want to be.

And he was there for all of it.

“Why don’t we get our winner on stage with us to take a final bow?” Nari asks the crowd, earning more cheers and hollers.

“C’mon-“ Yoongi pulls back and takes your hand, leading you to the stairs that lead to the stage, “They’re waiting for you.”

You hesitate, “Just me?”

“Go!” He encourages, picking up the front of your dress and offering you a nudge in the right direction.

You grab the front of your dress and do as he says, walking on stage once more, but as a winner this time. You can see the Royal Family standing just off to the far side of the stage, Namjoon and Nari standing in the center and waiting for you. They welcome you in between them at center stage.

“Please, take another bow!” Nari encourages, she and Namjoon stepping to the side to let you have your moment.

You do, allowing yourself to emerge in the feeling of the applause and the cheers for your win. After years of practice and dedication, you can finally say that you’ve accomplished your goal.

You stand up with a shy wave to the crowd, Namjoon taking this opportunity to slide in next to you, “Congratulations on your win! How do you feel?”

“Speechless.” You answer, truthfully unsure of what else you could possibly say. There was no word to describe everything you feel, “I really have no words for how I feel at this moment. I’m just so overwhelmed with emotion.”

“Well, perhaps you could provide us with a song that will describe your feeling to us?” Nari suggests, opening the stage to you for a final encore. The crowd seems to enjoy this idea as well.

“Can I really?”

“You can.”

You turn to the stage stairs to grab your violin, but Yoongi is already 3 steps ahead of you. He’s already walking up the stairs with your violin in hand to bring it to you, a proud smile on his face. You accept it from him, but you grab his sleeve before he can let go.

He knows what you want without you saying a word and frowns, “This is your moment.”

“I want to share it with you.” You plead. Had it not been for Yoongi, you would have never gotten this far. Had it not been for Yoongi, then you would have went through with your marriage today. Despite all of the personal progress you made to get where you are now, you would’ve have it if not for Yoongi. “We did this together.”

He smiles, feeling a bit bashful. It’s hard to ignore your request with you looking at him like that. He can’t help but give in, “Which rendition would you like to play then, Mrs. Min? Major or Minor?”

“I think…” You ponder which version you like more. The version you heard forever ago, once upon a time. Or the version you and Yoongi have added onto in the years that you’ve grown. A minor key invokes those emotions that play at ones own heartstrings but a major key? A major key makes you feel light and airy, as if you’re on top of the world. At this moment, you feel as if you’ve ascended into the stars, shining brightly above with the rest of them.

There’s only one answer to give him.

“I think - Mr. Min - that I’m feeling major.”

~ Fin~

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