#central cee fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

f4iry-dvst · 6 months

Text

Pity Party

a/n: first time uploading one of my cench fics feeling nervous - let me know if you want a smut for pt2!

pairing: central cee x fem!oc

summary: after a celebratory dinner takes a wrong turn, Michaela makes sure Oakley gets all he deserves

cw: light mention of neglect

"Soooo, big two four next week Cench! What ya up to for tha then lad?"

Oakley smiled weakly before taking a hold of his glass and taking a long swig of the tropical cocktail. He was out for dinner with a few work associates, his girlfriend Michaela, Marvin and Harrison celebrating the plaques he'd received recently for his music in a posh little bar & grill in the city - he didn't want to be here though. Being grilled with questions from his associates as if he were a ribeye steak wasn't exactly his ideal evening, nor was being out surrounded by so many people. The man never really was a social butterfly and he struggled a lot at events like this even now after his rise to fame. In the middle of dinner, he'd grabbed Michaela's hand under the table as his nerves grew exponentially and his patience was wearing thin; he'd considered just leaving far too many times already but Kayla had forced him to stay to be polite.

"Not a party?"

Marvin's eyes flicked up at the question already knowing where this was headed having heard the story far too many times from a drunk, blabbering mouth, through clouds of smoke. He thought about shutting it down, but it sounded too suspicious for him - he simply couldn't do much at all. The man could see Oakley visibly panic across the table and nervously take another gulp of his drink, which he said he didn't even like the taste of originally, but he seemed to have changed his mind about that one. This truly was a recipe for disaster.

"No I erm, never had one so is just not the forefront of my mind to be fair"

Oakley and Marvin's eyes both cautiously scanned around the table, seeing all the shocked and even pitiful expressions emerge in reaction. Marvin felt bad, really bad. Not because he'd never had a birthday party before, he'd pitied him for that already so long ago. But because he knew the man was about to receive a hounding. Lacey, the woman who helped design a lot of his merchandise, was sat beside Marvin and probably the one with the worst reaction of all. She almost grimaced, obviously assuming it was due to growing up dirt poor or something which well, wasn't untrue. Just not the reason Oakley had confessed to before. He'd finished his drink by now too, so he couldn't drown his anxiety in a disgusting mango concoction made with cheap rum anymore and he regretted gulping it all down so quickly.

"Erm, my parents were erm never really uno, around like tha so like, birthdays didn't get thought about"

His face resembled that of a hurt puppy by the end of his response, tears visibly welling up in his eyes and his nose dusted with pink. People around the table began to relax themselves promptly after seeing Oakley's reaction to their badgering. Michaela had begun to gently caress the back of his hand with her thumb in an attempt to soothe him even the slightest bit but she didn't get very far. Anxiety flowing through his veins meant his arms and hands were all tensing unrelentingly leaving the veins beneath his skin to show far more than they really should. She could feel the slight tremor in his frame as she shifted a little closer to his side to subtly comfort the man and the tenseness of his entire body. His knee was bouncing rapidly under the table and he was glad it wasn't visible to his company.

"Oh you poor thing"

Celaine, a lady who helped design his music covers, was the first to speak up again and she regretted even considering the comment as soon as she did. Oakley abruptly pushed his seat out causing a horrible scratching noise to echo and made a beeline for the toilets. He couldn't breathe at that table, it felt like everyone was crowding around him when actually no one had moved an inch. Michaela jumped up quickly following after her boyfriend filled with anger for the others and sadness for him. It was rare that he ever acted like this with other people, but they were evidently pushing his buttons and he couldn't take it any longer.

"Sweetheart..."

The girl had walked straight into the men's where she knew she'd find him, quickly realising how disgusting these toilets were for such a high-end place and decidedly took no notice; she had better things to do than grimace at tissue paper stuck to the mirrors and piss on the floor. A sniffle echoed in the empty bathroom and Kayla's heart ripped into a million shreds at the sound as she wrapped her arms around his small frame and pulled him into her chest tightly. She couldn't even begin to express how sad she felt for him in this moment, and how much she hated his team for pressing so much. Over the months of working with them, the couple had grown to love Celaine, Lacey and all the others but all of it had soon been diminished because they couldn't just keep their traps shut.

"We don't have to do anything love, or think about your past okay?"

The man nodded, still tucked firmly into his girlfriend and practically clinging onto her shoulders for dear life.

And so when Oakley's birthday eventually did roll around, Michaela had planned not a single thing. Of course, she'd planned gifts and what to eat but she did that most days so it was nothing out of the ordinary. The man had finally indulged in a lie-in for the first time this year - he hadn't the time what with all the work and travelling he'd been doing - so he was snoring way into the afternoon and eventually rose around 3 pm to the smell of hot chocolates and something else sweet. It was far too warm in his room, and even the house, so he had decided against putting last night's t-shirt back on and promptly followed the sugary aromas drifting upstairs to the kitchen where he found Michaela.

"I was just about to come wake you"

On the counter were stacks of syrup-smothered pancakes and waffles with mugs of hot chocolate and a big bowl of sliced fruit ready for his birthday breakfast, tho it was more tea than breakfast. Michaela was beaming at him showing a big toothy grin and he was sure he was reciprocating it, but he couldn't tell. He stood in amazement for a few seconds scanning over the sweet treats and then his girlfriend's face before pulling her into his arms. He kissed her on the cheek and thanked her about a million times before eventually giving her a long kiss on the lips.

"You've smudged my lippie now you dickhead"

"No calling the birthday boy names my love"

The couple fell into fits of laughter still holding onto each other like it was the last time they were to touch before they realised the breakfast would probably go cold soon and took it all to the living room. It was rare they ever ate in there because Oakley was very strict about the tidiness of the house but today was an exception of course. Michaela already had the tv set on Disney Plus ready for Oakley to come down and watch his favourite kids' movie: Lady & The Tramp. He sat and ate his birthday breakfast gleefully, focused intently on the movie playing on the tv with a goofy smile on his face the entire time. The girl could've sworn she'd never seen him so happy in his life, which would most definitely be an overstatement, but he did look happy as hell and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. That light that filled his face when he was just so freely happy was addicting and she would drink it up all day and all night if she could - it was just so beautiful. The dimples beside his lips, the wrinkles under his eyes and the way his cheeks puffed up - he was a sight for sore eyes if she did say so herself. When Oakley had finished most of his pancakes and strawberries he'd put his plate to the side and curled up against Kayla's side, his knees pulled to his chest and his head on her shoulder. Michaela didn't think he could get any cuter than this. The way he was showing so much affection, physically too, really blossomed something in the girl's heart and her stomach was doing somersaults because it meant he'd put his full trust in her and that he felt safe. It was okay to show the vulnerable side he was so ashamed of before with her because he felt respected and loved. He tended not to show too many of his emotions, if any, and especially not when it came to occasions like his birthday - it was a big topic that took him a long time to open up about. So for Michaela to see him like this knowing how much he struggled to open up and be comfortable around people she felt extra special.

"I love you, uno"

It was merely a mumble, because he seemed to be nodding off despite only waking up about an hour before; she put it down to the heat and the fact they were sitting so cosily. He'd most definitely said it though, Kayla had felt his warm breath brush against her neck as he spoke and the way his jaw moved against her shoulder.

"I love you too sweetheart"

He'd tried to tuck in on his girlfriend more but it was actually impossible unless he wanted to climb inside her skin which she was sure he would if he could, so he simply tucked his head as tightly into the crook of her neck as he could and fell asleep with her hand brushing through the curls upon his head. Now he was living the dream.

Best birthday ever.

#central cee #central cee fanfiction #central cee oneshot #central cee imagine #uk rap #uk rapper

65 notes · View notes

xxgloss93 · 7 months

Text

Cench

66 notes · View notes

hearta54 · 1 year

Text

He's A Distraction (Central Cee x Reader)

Summary: You're a dedicated student and going to Cambridge and become a doctor is your stars and heavens. To make that happen you have to move schools, a boy was never meant to be part of the picture. But Cench looks so good in it...

Word Count: 2 472

Notes: Sorry this is a bit long, I would love if you guys would send requests.

You scroll fixatedly on your laptop, scanning the screen in intense concentration and stopping each time something caught your attention. Reading the Cambridge Medicine webpage was an addiction; in the past you had tried to dissuade yourself from accepting this, but how could you not when it always stared blankly back at you? Addictive but productive, each time you re-read the sentences you had engraved into your memory you grew closer to your dream. And when you closed your eyes at night, you saw yourself in lavender scrubs and a pearly white lab coat; living your dream of being a Cambridge Alumni doctor.

Three A*s needed for entry motivated you to be an excellent student. You didn't mean to behave exaltedly but your current school was inadequate in innumerable ways. Today in biology, there hadn't been enough dissection kits, so the class had taken notes robotically and brushed over the practical. Defeated, you remembered how you had trudged home dubious; how could a school implore success in its students and not have the right resources? A memory of sitting in an examination room at Queen Victoria's Sixth Form Academy unnerved you, yes, you had sat the scholarship examination. It had been strenuous and the competition in the room had been palpable, even so, you didn't feel as if you could compete successfully. Falling asleep, you were plagued by these worrisome thoughts even in your dreams.

Obnoxiously the sound of your alarm erupted immersing the room and awakening you. Each morning when you woke up, a void would open gaping at you, existing ostentatiously: It was a persisting sense of loneliness at first; an innocuous reminder to cherish time with your parents. But this was difficult when they both left for work as the sun just began to emerge teasingly over the horizon. Your mother worked as a university professor, such a nominal salary for an intelligent woman, and your dad worked as a nurse; anyone could tell you nurses were underappreciated, numbers didn't have to. A smart knock was being emitted from the hallway, who was at the door?

A postman adorned in fluorescents held a letter for you to take, when you hesitated a second too delayed, he dropped it, walking swiftly to his flagged motorbike and zooming down the road. A Queen Victoria's Academy insignia? You felt so inauspicious as you leaned on the door prying the seal delicately open. Covering your face with your hand you peaked at the verdict through the intricate gaps between your fingers. "We would like to congratulate your success on the recent Academic Scholarship examination and invite you to accept a scholarship place with us." No words can grasp your joy it's transcending.

Yawning tiredly, you stretched placing your feet into your fluffy slippers, the night had gone and went without a wink of reprieve - you were consumed with nerves for the day ahead: Your first day at Queen Victoria's Sixth Form Academy. Opening the door, you walked across the creaking timber to make breakfast alone as you did every morning. You were befuddled to see your mother occupied in the kitchen handling an assortment of kitchenware ,readying a breakfast spread; usually you would just eat cereal; before you were pancakes, fresh fruit niftily cut, orange juice and array of salivating dishes.

"Mum why are you not at work?"

"I wanted to drive you for your first day, I can't begin to express how proud dad and I are," she said beaming excitedly.

You sat at the kitchen visualizing your mother's small, slightly dated and mediocre car driving alongside the avant-garde and luxurious cars of your new peers. Your stomach knotted half ominously and half guiltily. She seemed so happy to drive you and had sacrificed work to drive you, your inner monologue whispered insisting to take the bus would leave your mother forlorn.

"I'm glad you're taking me; I didn't really want to take the bus on my first day anyways."

Lies.

The academy's tree-lined boulevard was now in sight, driving alongside it now; planting your face against the misty window, eager to catch a glimpse. Your mother's car was now aligned with the curb which signaled a convenient space to leave; grudgingly you opened the door slowly as if peeking into a foreign world - in a way you were. You breathed in a long breath of courage as you slung your bag across your shoulders.

"Bye mum, thanks for the ride," you said, genuinely grateful.

"My pleasure darling, I love you, see you after school." Your mother grinned, pride cascading her face and carved smile lines. Guilt ebbed slowly as you watched your mother drive away. As her car dissipated to a speck in the distance a humble maroon car pulled to the curb, your mother had dropped you off with a car of a similar stature. You felt an unspoken sense of camaraderie. I'm glad I have someone to share the embarrassment with.

A boy emerged who appeared to be in the upper-sixth form - your year. He didn't seem ashamed of his car or even the slightest bit alienated; instead, he was confident, you could read if from his aura: it preceded him. Staring now, you saw his dark hair which was styled into jaw length box braids. His cutting cheek bones were iridescent, catching the sunlight, and you marveled at the softness of his plum bottom lip...

"I love you mum, thanks for the ride," he spoke to his mother with a genuine smile.

"I couldn't say no after you begged for a ride, could I? Have a good first day, Oakley."

What! He had asked for a ride. The guilt came gushing back, you weren't like him, yes you could relate about your car which was vain and face level. But he appreciated his mother wholly and wasn't attempting a façade to fit in with the elitism around. You felt a searing pang of shame. Frozen in thought you only broke out of this state when you felt dark coffee eyes meeting your gaze. The dwindling blare of the lesson bell dismissed you from the intense, awkward situation. Walking towards the office to meet the enrollment officer you chastised yourself sternly: This was the year of academic success entailing A*s, boys could tear down everything you had worked so hard for in a painful heartbeat.

The enrollment officer had distributed timetables to the small group of scholarship students; some of them gave a condescending air: Almost as if the fact testing had terminated slipped their minds, but most were nice and proffered kind but shy smiles, clipped at the edges with perceptible nerves. You navigated the halls wearily searching for your chemistry lab, the school was grandiose but tastefully understated. The look of old money attracted your gaze, it was a world away from where you had come. Walking the winding stairs, you see your chemistry class meters away from the landing 'room 299.'

Having arrived ahead of time allowed you to peruse the chemistry lab, it was a spectacle. Advanced modern equipment, granite bench tops, the most powerful microscopes... It left you speechless. You were broken from your trance by your classmates trickling in slowly and the booming voice of your new chemistry teacher.

"I am Dr. Olsen, I have a doctorate of chemistry from Oxford itself, trust you are in more than good hands," he paused to chuckle at his own joke but carried on when the students unreciprocated his mirth.

"This is the only chemistry class in the upper sixth form, that should allude to the arduous nature of the course. Therefore, to maximise your concentration I have taken it upon myself to devise a seating plan."

Dr. Olsen trailed off when the class began to groan resentfully.

"You can thank me when you receive your A-level results at the end of sixth form. Right then, in the back row, Y/N and Oakley Caesar-Su, Veronica Windward and Yasser Malik ..."

Oakley, You had been seated next to the boy from earlier this morning. You knew you shouldn't be smiling to yourself, chemistry was an imperative A-level. You weaved yourself to the back row and sat next to him.

"Hi Oakley," your voice had manifested much more timidly than you had expected.

" Yeah hey y/n, call me Cench, only my mum and tired old teachers like this one call me Oakley."

You giggled unexpectedly, he grinned back his gaze lingering. As Dr. Olsen droned on about Titration you took down notes studiously, beside you Cench was doing the same; writing down notes swiftly. You couldn't help but notice his handwriting was neat and prettily round, looking at his notes you dropped your pen. From your stool you reached down to retrieve it, on the way back up you bumped heads with Cench who had thoughtfully wanted to help.

"Oh my days, I'm sorry y/n, you good?" He was asking searching your eyes for signs of hurt.

You went to assure him you were okay when you got cut off by no other than Dr. Olsen...

"You two in the back Oakley and y/n quiet please."

"I am sorry Dr. Olsen I was just _"

"I don't want a justification take notes like everyone else, or get out," he said belittlingly.

Your cheeks got hotter as the class snapped their necks rubbernecking to witness your embarrassment, you looked at your notes mortified.

"Look, Dr. Olsen, You don't have to chat to her that way, she bumped her head and I was seeing if she was okay, yeah." Cench's jaw was locked making his cheek bones even more enunciated.

" Don't talk back Mr. Caesar-Su, detention after school." With an angered demeanor he resumed his lesson. You fought away guilt as you continued taking notes, if only I had gripped my pen tighter.

Trailing the halls advancing towards the exit, you're clouded with gratitude tinged with empathy for Cench, you hadn't meant to get him in trouble. Nor had you meant to tarnish his reputation in front of the strictest teacher. In your periphery you see Cench and your heart soars.

"Hi, Cench, I'm so sorry about earlier, I didn't think you'd get in trouble for trying to help."

"Don't worry about it y/n, that prick shouldn't have -"

"Right, students before we go into the room, these are the rules of after-school detention..." A teacher drawled these words with an expression of boredom.

You gave Cench an apologetic look over your shoulder before you opened the door, you were met by a smile and a shrug of the shoulders from Cench. The whole way home your mind is scattered with intrusive thoughts of him, you don't want them there but you don't want to fight them away either.

Cench's POV:

Detention dragged on just as I thought, thoughts of y/n appeased this listlessness because thinking of her had made it bearable. As we had worked on our assignments in silence I had chosen to continue my English literature essay. I could say I had not made much progress because the silence which filled the room was unsettling, but really it was because it was y/n who occupied my mind. Y/n with her guileless smile, her sharp and dazzling intellect, the clocked tick some more and I spent the time like this: Thinking up an interminable list of why I like y/n. Really and truly I had only met her today, but something about her...

Wrapping a towel around my waist and drying my wet braids, I hear a ping from my phone. 'You have received an email from..." It's a notification from the enrollments officer. Is this about today, I know I went overboard but I wasn't gonna let that prick talk to y/n like that.

I check what she has to say and she's saying I have to pick an extra-curricular to fulfil my scholarship expectations. That's calm, I'll join the Charitable Cause Club, I heard y/n is in it.

Y/N's POV:

At your desk you're riddled with inconsolable worry. In two days will be the chemistry exam which will make thirty percent of your semester grade. Staring at the notes in front of you which feel insurmountable you begin studying. It is well after midnight when you finally turn off your lamp and resign to sleep.

Cench's POV:

Standing around the classroom I see y/n, her eyebrows are nearly touching in what looks like worry while she reads her chemistry notes. I never thought she would panic during exam season, I think she's the smartest in our whole class. Watching her worry like eats away at me I really don't like it.

Lying awake on top of my covers despite the cold. My mind turns to y/n for the infinite time and I stop randomly at the Starbucks order she has in the morning sometimes. A regular matcha latte with two pumps of vanilla syrup and a strawberry icing doughnut embedded with fresh pieces of strawberry. Trust man's not simping... it's deeper than that.

Y/N's POV:

At 7am on a Friday morning, the library is empty. The comforting silence interrupted sporadically by the tinkering of the librarian. Today, is the day of the chemistry exam and no matter how much you study you don't feel ready for the exam. You feel warmth on your head, the feeling of someone watching you so you glance up straight into coffee eyes. It's Cench leaning on a bookcase your favourite Starbucks order in hand. Your heart skips several beats.

"Hi y/n, your such a neek you know, studying at this time." Cench says this as his eyes flick across your face, enthralled.

"I don't know, you can never be prepared enough," you retort, trying to fight a smile from showing on your lips but failing.

"I don't know about that, you'll do great, your as smart as you are cute. Which makes you very smart."

You feel your cheeks getting hotter and you stare blankly at your notebook.

Never taking his eyes off you Cench puts the drink and a paper bag down on the table.

"I got you a little something, good luck, yeah."

You watch him as he walks away, with his bag slung over one shoulder. Suddenly you are filled with the confidence he has in you.

Taking a few sips of your matcha leaves you refreshed, reaching into the paper bag your heart squeezes when you see a strawberry covered doughnut. How did he know. Looking inside the bag for napkins you see a strip of paper, unfolding the paper you read the message.

It says: You should go out with man. Scrolled on the bottom is a phone number.

You gasp earning a reprimanding look from the librarian. Your mind wanders visualising what your date with him will be like.

...

THE END

#one shot #x reader #central cee #cench #romance #fluffy #classical piano #fanfic #fanfiction #y/n #imagine #uk #ukrapper #central cee x reader #central x you #central cee fan fic #writer

524 notes · View notes

trentre · 10 months

Text

do y'all really think minors don't read the fanfics y'all write?? 💀💀

#trent alexander arnold #mbappe #jude bellingham #son heung min #kylian mbappe #england #central cee #trent alexander #soccer #football #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction

141 notes · View notes

inthetwilight · 3 months

Text

RULES...‎₊˚ ・₊✧

a list of rules!‎₊˚ ・₊✧

request guidelines...‎₊˚ ・₊✧

my requests will be open most of the time!

i wont get to every single one at once so please be kind and patient!!

also don't be a creep and send weird stuff

you can request other people for me to write about(aside from people on the list), this doesn't mean i will write about them though sorry lol

i mostly write about people i am familiar with so please try and pick from the list below!

your requests might not make it to being full fics, they might just be blurbs. I am a full-time student with tons of extracurriculars so I won't have a ton of time to complete every request full out.

however, sometimes I have a ton of time on my hands and your requests might be made into multiple part fics! yay!

i won't write about the following,

abuse; the character is abusing the reader. however, if the character is comforting the reader than yes.

incest

pedophilia

rape; I will not write about a character doing it to the reader or threatening the reader with it.

omegaverse/furry

age play or race play

trauma kinks

please be respectful of my boundaries and follow the guidelines!!

characters I write for...��₊˚ ・₊✧

criminal minds‎౨ৎ

spencer reid

aaron hotchner

outer banks౨ৎ

rafe cameron

jj maybank

greys anatomy౨ৎ

derek sheperd

people I write for...‎₊˚ ・₊✧

actors౨ৎ

matthew grey gubler

drew starkey

milo manheim

jacob elordi

artists౨ৎ

central cee(oakley)

kim taehyung

jeon jung-kook

kim seok-jin

I also write original stories with my own characters, so check that out on my wattpad!

other stuff...‎₊˚ ・₊✧

my platform should be a place for kindness to spread. please be kind and respectful! constructive criticism is appreciated but bullying and being rude will not be tolerated here.

any accounts violating rules repeatedly will be blocked. period!

tags!₊˚ ・₊✧

2 notes · View notes

lucy4-ever · 10 months

Text

ffs and hdcns writer

hello!

☆ about me ☆

my name's lucy, i'm french, im an INTP and im bi!

i listen to TV girl, crystal castles, eyedress, rebzyyx, pastel ghost and melanie martinez!!

my favorite colors are purple and green (just wanted to say it :)

i hate homophobic, sexist, racist, forceful, closed minded, bodyshaming and hateful people. i also hate fish and oranges.

i try to have a goth and 2000s style but im broke 😔

my crushes are mainly feminine, vampire guys and random girls cause all girls are pretty <3

(jack wolfe, bill kaulitz, finn wolfhard, cilian murphy, nijirō murakami, central cee, billie eilish, lily rose depp, malina weissman, richa moorjani and else...)

things i write for :

i write sfw, nsfw, fluff, smut, angst..

i write headcanons, fanfictions, oneshots..

i can write about anyone (as long as it's legal 🤨)

please give me ideas, im taking request!!

currently in a tokio hotel hyperfixation though, so give me ideas about them!! (bill's my fav, i love emo boys 🤭)

things i will not write for :

non consual

incxst

pxdophilia

nxcrophylia... (weird kinks)

basically things that disgust me 😸

english isn't my first language /!\

mwah 💋 (our delusional man 🤗)

#fanfictions #writer #headcanons #oneshots #tokio hotel #ideas #requests

28 notes · View notes

hearta54 · 1 year

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 (𝐂𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐞𝐞 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Summary: You have a long-lived crush on Cench, the boy across the road, piano is one thing you share. At a piano examination, you find out if your persistent feelings are reciprocated.

Notes: Originally was going to write about Tae-Moo from Business Proposal; thought this suits Central Cee better. Plus he's hot as f!ck.

Warnings: alcoholism, abusive father, a little swearing

Word Count: 2 453

When you played the piano it was like the notes were emitted from your finger tips, rather than from the instrument you love. You closed your eyes and let memory lead into the crescendo of Fur Elise. Playing the piano was a form of ecstatic escapism; it allowed you to transcend reality and exist in a void untouchable by what drained you.

Dad could drain a pungent bottle fast, even faster than he could drain you. Drifting into the decrescendo the melodic keys helped you block the intrusive thoughts you had about him. He used to be better, a memory which was slowly fading from memory. But if you were to be honest … those days when he embodied something other than an absent and sorrowful father were lost in a network of messy incidents, spurred by the violent man he became under the influence.

Sometimes dad was cordial and added to a pleasant ambience but this didn't overshadow his bad days. On these days, you would crawl within yourself, barricaded in your room playing until your fingertips felt numb and your hands lost their supple dexterity. Feeling a need to escape as your parents argued downstairs, mother was made timid by him; so she tread carefully, but even then he was so volatile. So temperamental.

So mother lived in crippling fear: That a chair would be thrown too hard, or that dad would drink too much alcohol. Extra shifts at the hospital was how she coped, running and adamantly refusing to confront - this tainted you with disappointment. Piano was the way you fought. But in rare instances when your favourite composers didn't ease your worried mind you turned to Oakley, the boy across the road.

Placing your sheet music atop of your keyboard you allowed yourself to sink into an inviting daze. Oakley Neil H.T Caesar-Su is it weird that I know his whole name, his friends call him Cench, Cench was an anomaly he made rap music and dressed in tech fleece but under the guise of his demeanor he was one of the best pianist you had witnessed … Grade seven.

When Cench played it was riveting, unconsciously tilting his head to the side and getting lost in the keys he looked like a worthy muse. You digressed, thinking about the way his plump lips upturned when he smiled. The way his dark curls caught the sun when she watched from afar. Afar... because Cench barely registered your existence.

Last week in music class, late as always; he bumped into you. As he retrieved your folder you thought you had glimpsed a twinkle in his eye. But it must have been the glare of the sun because your eyes lingered and his were unbothered; turning away. Changed into your satin PJs you switched the lamp off - some dreams were best left for sleep.

...

Morning had arrived, but as the sun rose smoothly you were ruminating. Casting your memory back to last night, you revisited the way your hands had glided over the keys. Each note seamless and crisp melting into the songs you had beautifully played. You hoped you would play as effortlessly today. Today was a pinnacle and would hopefully affirm the hours of practice and offer a haven which floated more away from what was happening at home and into your future at The Royal College of Music.

Doing your therapeutic morning skincare, you thought listlessly of life there and the endless respite it unlidded. Today you had chosen a white turtleneck layered by a wooly grey cardigan and cute pleated skirt, with opaque tights - for the glacial London winter - and legwarmers. Leaving your room you slipped on your Doc Marten's - a complementary staple in your closet.

They had not been cheap, but with the aid of your part-time job which was not overly lucrative; you were able to secure the shoes and cover the significant costs of piano tuition. Walking down, you treaded softly on the worn carpet, you could hear the wretched sound of beer bottles clinking in the kitchen. Clinging to the bannister you steadied yourself; Cench would be at the piano exam. So you put on a façade of bravery and nonchalance even though you knew it was erosive.

"Hi y/n slept well," his words weren't slurred yet. You were flummoxed, dad was usually rooted in self-interest. When did he start looking beyond himself?

" Dad..." Your words caught in the static air, it sounded so raw.

"Mmm."

"Do you think you can drop me to my piano exam it's a bit far by bus, mum is working and -" Glass smashing to smithereens startled you; you covered your head instinctually.

"Who do you think I am. A fucking taxi, take the bus. You and your God damn piano," he was seething, as he turned around you took in his bloodshot eyes. So temperamental. He wouldn't have been good to drive anyways. Rigid and shaking you rushed up the stairs hurriedly and stuffed your bag blindly with your sheet music. Your eyes were too watery. You shut the door behind you with trepidation, not wanting to spark another polarizing outburst.

Tears streaming endlessly down your face you breath caught as you saw Cench leaving his house across the road. Seeing you he seemed perturbed like he'd seen something he shouldn't have. You watched aghast as he put his earbuds in and pulled his quintessential Trapstar hoodie to shroud his possessing curls. Walking down the street with your eyes downcast, you felt mortified, you felt Cench had seen a part of your life you worked so hard to hide.

You bumped into something unmoving, "ugh," you scoffed exasperatedly. Could my day get any worse? Glancing upwards you were dumbfounded by who stood in front of you.

"Hi y/n, you alright, everything calm yeah?" Cench was looking directly into your eyes, his earbuds out.

You nodded, clutching at fading conviction. How could you tell Cench your problems when he barely knew you? So dishonestly you made it seem like everything was fine; insecurity hoodwinked you into believing he would think you were 'too much.'

Almost smirking, he rolled his eyes tilting his head to one side like he was lost in demanding piano piece.

"Why do girls always move shady? I can tell your not fine, you were tearing up and that _ " he sighed seeing the resolve you had in being stoic.

"Alright then y/n, your fine I guess. The piano exams are time away, taking the bus is mad _" he was stopped short by a honk from a car blaring rap music.

"Anyways good luck, don't stress too tough, your piano skills are hard," Cench said this as the car drove away erratically.

Piano skills? Cench knows about my piano skills? Maybe you're not so self-deluded.

...

Raveled in the chaos of the morning, walking into the revered and coveted Royal College of Music was an exhale. The school was the cornerstone of all your dreams, you could always visualize it vividly. And now here you were for a piano exam, it was a reminder that it was real and not just a conjuring of your escapist imagination.

Walking through the hall you took in the surreal architecture and basked in its splendor. I could get used to this. Peeking at your crumpled pamphlet you realised the auditorium was on your left: 'Auditorium 9B.'

You sat down in a velvety plush seat and felt yourself inflate with hope, a place hear would be a gateway to magic. A piano piece began softly, enthralling the dozens of other pianists scattered in the vast, gilded auditorium. Flicking your eyes heavenwards you saw him, playing as gracefully as ever. Sometimes you thought to yourself Cench was born solely for this very thing.

Cench's POV:

I have played this piece a thousand times before now; I perfected it and made it radiate real talent even. Just so that when I got on this stage, I could stare at y/n and absorb her beauty. I committed every detail of her face to memory before the eighth bar - What can I say I'm a quick learner innit. The truth is I am worried about y/n, I know her dad is an alcoholic, I just don't want her to know I know. She'll get embarrassed and hurt, and I don't want to see her like that, ever. This piano exam is important, grade eight is what I need to come here; so why is all I can think about how to tell y/n I like her? I shake these feelings off as the keys fade for the end. These man are tapped if they say I didn't make Grade 8.

...

Y/n's POV:

Speechless and hypnotised is what you are. Making your way up to the mahogany stage, butterflies battle for dominance in your stomach. This mix of nervousness for the performance and the fact Cench will be watching is both nauseating and intoxicating. You inhale filling your squeezing lungs. The conductor motions for you to begin, the sheet music you have on the ledge... It's not Fur Elise, like you were assigned it's the one you've been experimentally writing. Horrified you close your eyes. Lost. You begin to play anyways. Confront don't run. You play until the amounting crowd is rendered delirious with applause and Cench is peering funnily at you in the audience, you brush it off. That's probably the look of disinterest.

As the curtains closed you saw your future becoming narrower... and narrower. There was an office which you were meant to report to promptly, to hear results. Practically tiptoeing in anticipation you felt yourself drown in dread. Not commencing to Grade seven meant bidding this school a sorrowful goodbye, before you even had a chance to enroll! It wasn't just the prestige, or the vigor which made this school shine in a pearly light, it was the love for music and adorned opportunities it created. For some a school like this was a pretty ornament on a promising resume, but for you, this was your youthful life's work.

Now standing outside the tastefully decorated office, you heard two adults discussing tersely, the conductor and examiner. Knocking lightly on the door, you were further unsettled at how swiftly it swung open. For the millionth time that day, you sat in a seat powerless; while others dictated your fate.

"Ms. y/n last name, we were shocked when you played the piece that was not assigned to you, but it appears you wrote it, yes?" The conductor drawled.

You cleared your throat hurriedly, looking intently at the poker-faced men.

"Yes sir, I did," it came out a near whisper.

"Excellent, welcome to grade seven, I look forward to seeing you at the Royal College of Music in the very near future."

...

You were beyond ecstatic. You honestly had no words to describe this feeling it was bliss and euphoria intertwined. The rain sprinkled predictably as you walked to your bus stop: You couldn't help but romanticise life at times, but this moment was a smidgen of actual romance in your life. Your gentle musings of how much you loved the piano led way to someone you might adore just as equally.

You could hear fast steps behind you through your beige XM4s, thinking it was just another jogger it didn't faze you.

"y/n..." your name caught in Cench's throat. Hearing his voice made you rip your headphones off. Ugh So unsubtle. You stopped to see what he had to say, Cench was only a few inches away. But you wished he was closer... Closer still. As close as possible.

"Hey y/n I saw you walking, can man walk with you," he said this confidently but his eyes were slightly down cast.

"Yes, of course," you replied, letting your heart soar with the possibility of this being the day you would turn a new leaf together.

You walked together to the bus stop talking about piano and your shared dream school, until you could see the tall, red bus blinking at you in the distance.

"There's my bus, see you in music class, Cench," you tried to mask your disappointment as you reluctantly climbed the steps.

"Where do you think I'm going, we live on the same street still," he chuckled rolling his eyes; exciting the butterflied entrapped in your stomach.

"Oh okay," you smiled awkwardly.

Cench's POV:

I am sitting so close to y/n in the bus right now. What if I just leaned in and... Truthfully I am overwhelmed with nervousness right now. This never happens ever. I don't want to talk to her about what happened this morning; she doesn't seem ready and the way she's smiling right now and just looking around the bus. Man she's so cute. Bu there are things to discuss..

"Y/n.."

"mmhmm," she was looking into my eyes and I thought my mind would go blank.

" I - I actually like you a lot... I have for time, I can't lie." Holding my breath. I'm hoping... I hope she responds the way she does in my head.

Y/N's POV

The air left your brain, the moment felt ethereal. You had pictured and edited this moment innumerable times in your imagination. And you always thought it was just remain a figment. Looking into Cench's dark, enamoring eyes you could see he was waiting for your answer.

"I like you too Cench... I have since forever." Your smile turned impossibly large and you faced the front, excited for what's yet to come and beaming.

"Since forever huh, babe don't be silly," Cench's smile was a reflection of a sunny day.

"It's true - " you mumbled realising what he has said. Babe.

Cench placed a warm hand on your cheek. His lips were soft like you had always envisioned; grazing over yours slightly - searching for reciprocation. You opened your eyes wide in awe and surprise, pressing your lips against his. You could feel Cench smiling into the kiss; his lips were sweet and fit yours perfectly. Slowly his hand trailed to grip your waist while the other stayed on your face. Moving your lips together he pushed his tongue in your mouth and roamed everywhere he could; you saw a different galaxy.

Gasping quietly you both pulled away grinning stupidly.

"You're so beautiful y/n you don't understand," whispering for only you to hear, he wrapped his arm around you moving closer. You put your head in the soft spot between his neck and the edge of his shoulder closing your eyes. You thought about love. Love for piano and Love for Cench.

....

THE END

#one shot #x reader #central cee #cench #romance #fluffy #classical piano #fanfic #fanfiction #y/n #imagine #uk #ukrapper #central cee x reader #central x you #central cee fan fic #writer

428 notes · View notes