#piano and voice lessons near me

[deannacleemusic]

Website: https://www.deannacleemusic.com

Address: Edmonton, AB, Canada

Deanna Clee Music, led by Deanna Joy Clee, a Canadian music educator and entertainer, specializes in voice and piano lessons. With a rich background in musical theatre, jazz, and pop, Deanna has performed across Western Canada and appeared in children's TV series. She directs choirs and offers musical theatre workshops, catering to a diverse range of students and audiences.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100094126715371

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@deannaclee

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[academiesofmusic]

Rental instrument near me

Looking for musical instruments for rental near me ? Academies of Music has you covered, making it convenient for you to explore your musical passions without the commitment of ownership. Enroll in our classes, discover talented instructors, and embark on a musical journey tailored to your preferences. Unleash your musical potential with Academies of Music today! For more details visit our website : www.academiesofmusic.com

[musichouse]

Learn Virtual Piano Lessons at Music House School of Music

Discover the joy of virtual piano lessons at Music House School of Music. Experienced instructors, flexible scheduling, and a comprehensive curriculum tailored to your goals. Engage in real-time lessons through an interactive online platform. Begin your musical journey from home and unlock your piano-playing potential. Enroll today!

[binniesbooks]

hi my fayebae, i just read ‘you don’t want him to know, do you’ and i’m🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️absolutely in love with it ahhh, feeding my brain and oh god i sudd had a thought…

his fingers… please

soobin x reader??? let’s just say that in this reality, soobin is able to play the piano beautifully. With his long fingers giving him the advantage of reaching the many keys he needs to, sometimes your mind wonders of how those long fingers would feel inside you…

the way he would play with your cunt… the way he would make sure youre stretched out and then finger fucks you…purposely bringing out his fingers from you. Sucking of your cum from his fingers, making you imagine how his tongue would feel against your clit.which of course then leads to freaky freaky heheh

ahhh i fr had this thought i hope u like it🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

• MELODIES OF TEMPTATION

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 3.4k

pairings musictutor!Soobin x fem!reader

warnings oral sex, fingering, making out, nipple pinching (dream)

faye's note TMI: I was summoned to hell for the goddamn thesis, that's why I uploaded this late. Wth. Fuck school.

Hope you still enjoy this tho hehe, especially to my Beomgyu's kitten, I'm sorry for uploading so late, omg I hate myself 😭 anyway, I love your asks, really. Kith kith 💋

The soft clinks of the keys of the piano resonated inside the confinement of an empty room, long slender fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. Soft hums come from a comforting voice. The cold windy breeze blows at the open windows flowing through the guy's long fringe as his eyes flutter close feeling the notes hit his ears quietly. His movements came to a halt, head snapping towards the door --soft knocks waking him from his wandering thoughts.

'Hi, are you, perhaps, Choi Soobin?" You quietly asked, clutching on the straps of your crossbody bag.

"Uh, yeah?" he hesitated out of confusion, "May I help you?" -- "Oh, where are my manners, come in." he stood up from the piano as he walked toward the small table on the corner.

You walked slowly, observing the naked room, almost doubting if you really did come to the right place. "Please take a seat," Soobin said as he offered you a glass of water.

"So uh, my mother, found out about these some piano class thing? And, forced me to take it?"

"Is that so? Well, I have no students this session. it's been a while actually, so I'm afraid I can't make classes as of now." He answered.

You wiped your palms on your jeans, "Uhm, is there, like, nothing we can do about it then?"

"The whole lesson fee is actually divided over students. It's just that I can't let you pay the whole price. It's too expensive, given that... you still look like a student." He explained observing your overall figure that totally gives off a student vibe.

"I can pay for the whole price. Just... just let me take the lesson," you pleaded, hands clasped in front of you, "I just can't do anything about it. My mother is expecting me to play the piano in 3 months. I'm supposed to play at my brother's wedding." You rolled your eyes at the request your mother asked you. It just didn't make sense. Why ask you to learn the piano when they could just hire a whole band if they wanted to?

"I see." he meekly answered, nodding slowly. "Then I think we can do something about it." He stood up and walked towards the small cabinet just near the table.

"You can fill up this form, for legal purposes. And we can proceed on talking about your schedule." He handed you a folder. "Do you want to pay it whole or do you want to pay it every session?" He asked as he watched you fill up the form. "I'll pay during every session." You smiled at him and continued answering the necessary form.

You slide back the form towards him, "Y/n Y/s/n, 22." he muttered under his breath before closing the folder. "When are you free?" He asked as he pulled out his phone. "I am free on weekdays afternoon, and weekends the whole day."

"Should we do it on weekends?" he asked, checking his calendar. "We will have 24 sessions in total," he added.

"I'll take it. Weekends, I mean." You agreed.

"Is 5-8 in the evening okay with you?" His head tilted to the side, and you simply nodded.

Soobin stood up, "Okay then, come back this Saturday. we'll start at five." You stoop up after him taking his hand to shake it. As you were about to leave, you turned around once again, "I don't have to pay any deposit?" He chuckled as he answered with a dimpled smile, "No deposits."

...

You gasped as you looked at your wristwatch, what were you doing all this time? It was already four in the afternoon. You fumbled to fix your things as you quickly got up.

"Something wrong?" One of your friends asked, "We still have a movie to watch." "Go ahead, I have an appointment this afternoon, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you guys on Monday!" You scurried out of the cafe only to go back again to order drinks.

"Two iced americanos, to go."

You knocked at the door twice before pushing it open. He was playing the piano again. he has a huge frame, you thought to yourself. His broad shoulders complement his tall figure, despite the fact that he has a big body build, Soobin has a small waist, emphasized with how his white shirt was tucked in his pants.

You walk towards the small couch and place the drinks on the table. You close your eyes as you listen to his soothing voice. He quietly sings with the melody he is playing. When he was done, you cleared your throat to let him know you were already there.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I did not notice you." he shyly walks over to the couch to talk to you. You offered him the drink as he expressed a small "thank you."

"You have a great voice." You complimented him. A flush crept up on his face, to be honest, he's not used to being complimented.

"Shall we get started? I'm glad to walk you through your music journey." His dimples showed up nicely. They're cute, it makes you want to poke them but it doesn't make you seem professional.

The session ended up well. Besides, Soobin did not have to start from the very beginning, since you already know some of the basics.

The following sessions wrapped up well too. According to Soobin, you are a fast learner. You pick up everything he says quickly. Well, aside from Soobin having longer fingers, it was difficult for you to press keys that were far apart. Other than that you didn't have any problem.

"Can I just cut my fingers and have yours instead?" You were growing frustrated, you were not able to press the right key, making a disturbing sound instead of a good melody. You always end up twisting and wrenching your hand when trying to hit the notes.

"I quit!" You exclaimed only for Soobin to chuckle at your complaints. "You can do it, you are a fast learner," Soobin commented, his arms crossed on his chest. "I am, but the keys make me want to kill myself." You blurted. "It's easy, look." Soobin gently placed his finger on the keys, easily pressing down each note. "You have long fingers, I don't." You pouted. "Not my fault I have longer fingers than you." He answered while laughing only to make you pout again.

"Let's end here, come back tomorrow, you should rest for now, it's getting late." Soobin closed the windows of the room.

"Where do you live? Shall we go out together?" You asked.

"Call," he replied with a dimply smile.

You two ended up dropping by at a convenience store to grab a snack. You found out that you go back by the same way, so you thought might as well take the same bus later.

"I thought you were much older than me." You chimed when you found out he's just one year older than you. "Shall we talk casually, then?" He asks as he sips on the hot chocolate he bought. "If you don't mind." You nodded giddily.

Soobin saw how you shivered at the chilly breeze. "Wear my jacket, you've been shivering since earlier." He offered, taking off his jacket to hand it to you. "I forgot mine." You sheepishly answered as you wrapped his jacket around your body.

"Let's go. You might freeze to death if we stay here any longer." Soobin laughed quietly, picking up the trash on the table as he chucked it into the nearest trash can.

You took the same bus that night. He even bid you goodbye and breathed a soft "Take care, see you next week" before you got off.

Soobin is a shy guy. But he's gentle and caring. He's also talented, not to mention his face card did not decline.

That same night when you got home, you did not know what had gotten into you. You did not know the reason why you let your senses engulf the perfume on his jacket, nor when you tried to close your eyes only to vividly imagine how your night went on. You even quietly prayed and hoped each day that week came fast. Your heart raced at the thought of seeing him again. You grew nervous each day, the anticipation made you bounce your legs in class. It got you checking and re-checking the date.

Maybe the heavens above heard your silent pleas. Because the weekend arrived so quickly. You were so used to wearing just pants and shirts whenever you went to the music tutoring. However, this time, you find yourself fumbling through your dresses as you look for clothes you can wear that gaev off the "I dressed up well for you but I'm not gonna make it obvious" vibe.

You stood in front of the mirror, wearing a skirt and a knitted long sleeve. You look silly, but your heart is about to burst out from the giddiness you were feeling. It's not that you were gonna meet up with a date or something, but, maybe, you like him. Maybe you like Soobin a little bit. Your sessions were more than halfway done, with just 10 sessions remaining.

However, when you stepped inside, there was no Soobin to be found. Nor his things to be seen. The windows were open, though.

You were clutching onto his jacket he had lent you as you scan the room once again, still not used to the naked ass room he's holding the lesson in. However, a bigger couch caught your attention, it looks new. You sat on the couch and watched the clock ticking slowly. You placed his jacket on the couch, as you tried to make it puffy to serve as a makeshift pillow. It's still early anyway, taking a nap won't hurt, besides, he's still not here.

Soobin stepped inside the room, his hair a bit messy as if he just got up from a nap, or a fight, or whatever it was. His words are slurred. Was he drunk? "Hey, are you alright?" You asked as you stood up and walked closer to his tall frame still standing at the door. He grabbed your face and crashed his lips onto yours. His hands fumbled over your body as he pressed your back against the wall.

"H-hey.. S-soobin.. ah.." You tried to push him away but to no avail, he's much larger and stronger than you. His tongue grazed your neck as he sucked lightly as if he wanted to leave a mark. His slender fingers danced across your waist, slipping underneath your long sleeve. He lightly pinched your nipples, eliciting a soft moan from you. His hand travels back to your waist down to your thighs as he lifts your skirt. Your blood ran south, heat pooling on your slit. You can't help but whimper at his touch, his fingers gently rubbing your clothed pussy. He pushed your underwear to the side to slide his fingers in--

"Hey, hey y/n, are you okay?" His face was painted with worry as he tapped your shoulder to wake you up. Your eyes snapped open. "You were whining in your sleep, is everything fine?" He asked grabbing a glass of water. Your face turned red. You can't believe you were dreaming about him, and a sexual dream at that. You chugged down the whole glass of water, you couldn't look him in the eyes, what was that dream all about? Oh god.

"I'm sorry, I was late, something came up and I needed to take care of it, that's why I uh, wasn't here." He apologized, his face still painted with worry.

"N-no it's fine. I mean, I early.. I'm got.. I was... I got here earlier t-than our scheduled time." You cannot even form your words straight. He let out a laugh, as he look at you once again. "You got me worried from all that whining." He sighed, "I thought you were having a bad dream." You scratch the back of your nape as you play with the glass in your hand, you can't tell him about your weird dream, it's not something to spill.

"Shall we start? I'll play a song first, then you'll play once I'm done and apply what you have learnt." He instructed as he strides towards the piano.

Your eyes were fixated on how his fingers danced gracefully on the keys. His beautiful fingers were able to reach the notes you were unable to do. Choi Soobin was actually known for his exceptional piano skills even when he was still at a young age. To most, him playing melodies effortlessly could enrapture the audience, but to you, his fingers stirred thoughts that went far beyond music. You had always thought how his fingers were so pretty although he was a man. It was as though he gave them extra care. The thought even caused you to dream about him. Not to mention you were dreaming about him inside his tutor room.

He had finished playing long ago, but you were still staring at his fingers, still in a daze. His body was already turned to you, examining your eyes and what they were staring at. An enigmatic smile played on his lips, "Care to tell what you are thinking about?" He asked, voice low and inviting. "W-what?" Your eyes snapped back at him. "What's on your mind, y/n." He chuckled when you avoided his gaze, he stood up, "Care to tell?" His head was tilted to the side once again. "Nothing... I.. I just think you're really good at playing the piano.. and that your fingers are p-pretty," you stuttered.

Soobin walks back to the couch where you were sitting, he draws his face near to yours as you back down, leaning your head on the backrest of the couch. "Is that all you're thinking about?" You felt your heart thump faster and harder as you nodded frantically, your palms sweaty. "I don't think so," he leans closer, one wrong move and you'll get your lips crashed with his, "I heard you call my name in your sleep -- let me correct myself, you were actually moaning my name." His arms were on both sides of your head, you're trapped on the couch.

"I'm not the type to let myself go in this kind of situation, but," he stopped as he twirled the end of your hair on his fingers, "You excite me. I'm actually surprised." He chuckled. "S-soobin, I... I didn't mean t--" "Mhm, you didn't baby, you didn't." He nods as he presses his thumb on your glossy lips. You gripped his jacket on your lap with nowhere to ground yourself. Your eyes flutter close at the skin contact. "See? You really didn't." He whispered before closing the gap between the two of you.

You did not know what happened, or what had gotten unto him, but there's one thing you were sure of. Your music tutor is making out with you.

"My, my... You were thinking about what else my fingers can do, am I right?" He remarked as he pulled away a bit. You bit your lips as you nodded lightly. "Naughty girl." He smirked.

His fingers danced across your face, touching your cheeks as he kissed you. You can't help but hold onto his arms.

"Stand up," he commanded as he pulled away. He gently drags you and makes you sit on the soft cushion chair in front of the piano. "Show me what you have learned." He ordered as he kneeled in front of you. "You look pretty by the way," he added.

You slowly pressed on the keys of the piano with an unstable rhythm and a pounding heart. "Spread your legs, I'll show you something," he chuckled at the thought. You clenched your hand as you slowly spread your legs in front of him. "Don't stop playing until I say so," he instructed as he pushed your underwear to the side.

You continued playing on the piano with a more uneven tone and rhythm as you trembled under his touch. His fingers danced gracefully on your pussy, slightly grazing your clit, making you shiver.

He bunches up your skirt to your waist and pulls your underwear all the way for easier access. "Tell me once again that you didn't mean what you were doing earlier," a playful smirk was plastered on his face as he looked up at you. "I... I didn't m-mean to m-moan your n-name..." You whispered with a shaky voice. "Is that right?" He asked, his finger nudging your clit. You nodded as you felt your body shrink at his melting gaze.

"Your body says otherwise, lovely." He chimed as his middle finger slides easily inside you making you gasp. "Continue playing, I'm grading you." He reminded.

You don't even know if the notes you're playing were making sense or if it's the right key, you just kept on pressing the keys with trembling hands as you felt Soobin's finger scissoring your pussy. "You're so wet that all I can hear is the squelching sound, your notes are being drowned," he commented, pressing on your sweet spots.

"S-soobin, I can't a-anymore..." Your fingers stopped, as you shook your head. "I'm grading you y/n. It's either you pass, or I'm going to refer you to another tutor." He warned. "B-but--" "No buts, pretty. Continue."

You did not know where your mind flew to. All you can think about is how his pretty fingers are stretching you out and reaching the spots your own fingers weren't able to reach. "I'm g-gonna cum..." Your voice all trembling and shaking as much as your legs do.

"So soon?" Soobin started to move a bit faster, the sound your pussy was making was so lewd and dirty. You're toes curled, your hand gripped on his shoulder as you try to stop yourself from cumming. Soobin smirked, you're so lovely to look at. "Hmm, pretty." He chuckled as he stared at you.

"P-please Soobin, I'm gonna cum..." You pleaded. He twisted his fingers, scissored and pushed it more inside your gummy walls, you're too weak to hold back. You came on his fingers as you shuddered with his finger still fucking inside you. You were whining and squirming, but he's too strong for your weakened body.

He pulled his fingers out. He stares at his sticky and slicked-covered fingers and looks at you. He saw how the flush crept over your cheeks. "We will continue our sessions, you still have a lot to learn." His gaze at you is unwavering, waiting for you to look back at him. And when you did, his fingers disappeared in his own mouth.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet." He moaned, cleaning his own fingers covered with your cum. His low voice gives you a shiver down your spine. He continued on licking his fingers, eyes locked on yours. You lean down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled away. "I'm still not done, hold your skirt up." As a good student, you gladly obliged, clutching on your skirt.

He placed one of your thighs on his shoulder as he dives into your pussy. Lapping every essence dripping down. You squirmed and gripped on his hair. His tongue poking on your cunt. "S-soobin ahh, shit." You've lost it. Your tutor is eating you out, the guy you have a little crush on.

He keeps on humming in your pussy, the vibration adds to the tingly sensation you are feeling. You were in ecstasy.

"N-no more... Hng.." he did not stop. No way he's gonna stop. Not when Soobin is already hard and on the verge of cumming just by eating you out. But he holds back. "Shit!" Soobin felt you clench on his tongue, riding your other high. Your legs spasmed while he was cleaning you with his tongue, scraping every drop of your cum. It's something he can't waste.

He looks up at you, wiping his glistening mouth and nose with the back of his hand.

"Lay on the couch." He bosses, as he proceeded to lock the door. "Maybe buying this bigger couch has a purpose. Too bad it'll get soiled today, I just bought it yesterday." He smiled as he unzipped his pants, "Bend over. You're the one to grade me this time. Which is the best? My finger, my tongue, or my cock."

@binniesbooks 2024

[babysukiii]

how long can we be a sad song? (till we are too far gone to bring back to life)

modern day high school au

// your girlfriend lottie has always made it clear soccer is her main priority. when nationals near and she begins ignoring you, your final straw seems to be when she lashes out at you. //

warnings: angst but kinda fluffy at the end, breakups, asshole!lottie, jock!lottie, she’s mean for like a minute lol

you let out a quiet sigh as you sit on the bleachers and watch your girlfriend and laura lee continue to practice on the soccer field. even though practice ended an hour ago. finally, laura lee announces she needs to get home, and she waves at you as she makes her way off the field. you look over at lottie who’s offering you a smile. it’s way too late to go and watch that movie in town you wanted to see, so you know now your only option is hanging out at one of your houses.

you stand up, making your way down the bleachers and over to your girlfriend. “did you still want to hang out?” lottie asks, “i’m a bit tired, maybe we can just catch the movie tomorrow?” lottie offers and you feel your entire mood sour even more than it already was. “i just waited two hours to hang out with you.” you point out, and the raven haired girl frowns. “i never asked you to wait. i told you i have to really focus on nationals.” lottie states sternly, and you nod. “i know that. i know nationals is super important to you… but you’ve blown me off for three weeks now because of it. i just thought… i don’t know, you’d make a little time for me too.” your voice is quiet, and soft. you don’t sound angry but you sound disappointed.

lottie feels a wave of guilt wash over her. “i’m sorry. tomorrow i’ll leave as soon as coach ben ends practice. promise.” she insists, sounding so sincere you actually believe her. your dismal expression is quickly replaced by a happy one. you nod, “okay. can you meet me at my place tomorrow after practice? i have a piano lesson at my house so i can’t watch you practice.” you admit and she nods, flashing you the same smile you fell in love with. “of course, babe. come on, i’ll drive you home.” she offers kindly, and your heart skips a beat as she reaches for your hand, interlocking her fingers with yours.

the next day at school you spent the entire day eager for it to end. you couldn’t wait to see the barbie movie, and you had been going on and on about how excited you were about it. you even missed going with your friends, in order to see it with lottie because she promised. after school, you give lottie a kiss goodbye and made your way to your sisters car.

what you expect after your piano lesson is lottie to text you that she’s outside and waiting for you. but what happens is you get ready for your date, and you end up waiting two hours. two hours and not a single text or call from lottie. you don’t even bother texting her more than once because you feel so emotionally exhausted. she’s been putting you aside all year for soccer, and sure, at first you understood. this could get her a scholarship… but she’s rich! she could afford to get into any school, and play on any college team…

maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with me.

“honey, why are you all dolled up? you have plans?” your mother asks you, walking out of the kitchen wearing an apron that’s stained with some sort of red sauce. “no. not anymore. i was supposed to hang out with lottie today, but… she canceled for soccer practice again.” you confess hesitantly and your mother nods. “that girls gonna burn herself out with all the practice she does.” she comments jokingly, but you’re not in the mood to laugh. your mother realizes something is wrong right away.

“mom, do you think… do you think lottie likes soccer more than she likes me?” you question, your voice laced with insecurity. your mother laughs as if you’ve said the funniest thing on the planet. “that’s absurd, mija (sweetheart), that girl once walked all the way here just to give you flowers.” your mother reminds and you feel a pang of hurt hit your heart. “she… she just doesn’t do those things anymore. she’s always been so serious about soccer but this year? god, she’s been a nightmare. did i tell you allie broke her leg during a practice scrimmage? that’s how serious they’re taking this…” you trail off and the older woman’s eyes widen a bit at the revelation.

“she’s just a different person these days. it doesn’t feel like she likes me very much anymore.” you admit sadly, and your mother frowns. “have you talked to her about this?” she inquires uncertainly, and you nod. “not all of it, but i have told her i feel like she puts soccer before me and our relationship a lot.” you explain, “she always says it’s just in my head, and that she loves me… but she stood me up again after promising she wouldn’t and i—“ your voice cracks and your mother rushes over to you. “honey, no. this— this isn’t right. you need to talk to her about this. all of it.” the older woman says sternly, and you sniffle as you wipe a tear away. you’ve always been so sensitive and this entire situation was getting to you.

“what if— what if we break up? or what if she confirms that she does think soccer is more important? i… i don’t know if i can handle that.” you whisper the last part and the raven haired woman shakes her head. “well you’re going to have to, because the longer you let this fester, the worse you’re going to feel.” she comments stringently, causing you to look up at her with sad eyes. “y-you’re right. i’ll talk to her tomorrow.” you assure her, and just as your mother is about to respond, your phone starts vibrating.

the screen lights up with texts from lottie, and you look at your mom. “it’s her.” you say, and she shrugs. “don’t respond for a few hours. come help me with dinner, it’ll get your mind off her.” she suggests, and you press your lips together. “isn’t ignoring her just as bad?” you question and she shakes her head, “you’re just giving her a taste of her own medicine. come on; leave the phone there and come help me.” your mother insists, helping you off the couch and gesturing your towards the kitchen.

all your mother let you do was chop up some zucchini, and set the table. still, talking with her about other things than lottie was nice. and talking about lottie definitely gave you some perspective. you were definitely going to talk to your girlfriend about this, and you were going to put your foot down. you weren’t going to make her choose between you and soccer; you’d never even consider doing that. you just wanted a little time, and to maybe be prioritized a little better.

after dinner you end up going upstairs, taking a shower, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. you wander around your bedroom, nirvana blasting on your speaker as you dry your hair. your phone chimes again, signaling you got another text.

(7;56 p.m) lottie: tai made us practice late again, i’m sorry. can we reschedule?

(7;57 p.m) lottie: this saturday is all yours! i promise!

(8;12 p.m) lottie: hello?

(8;15 p.m) lottie: my texts are delivering, so i know your phones on.

(8;20 p.m) lottie: i’m really sorry about the movie

(9;33 p.m) lottie: no phone call tonight?

(9;35 p.m) you: hey, i got caught up with piano practice, and helping my mom with dinner, and then being stood up by my girlfriend

you know your response is petty, and unlike you, but you were still upset. lottie has never just pushed you aside like this, and to do it so consistently all of a sudden made you feel so bad. especially about yourself. it made you wonder if she was losing interest. if maybe she was only using soccer as an excuse to stop hanging out with you.

(9;38 p.m) lottie: well, i’m glad you’re alive. i didn’t stand you up, you know how tai gets when she decides something. i have to take nationals seriously.

you scoff at her response, and quickly get to typing.

(9;40 p.m) you: i understand that. but you’ve promised me four different times about this movie, and at this point i don’t even want to go anymore.

(9;42 p.m) lottie: i know you’re upset and i’m sorry. but if i want to win nationals i have to practice really hard. harder than usual. right now that’s my main concern

you toss your phone onto your bed, not even bothering to respond. it was like talking to a brick wall. tomorrow you’d have to face her and talk about this in person. the thought alone causes a nauseous feeling to settle in the pit of your stomach. there was this wave of dread that washes over you, and for the first time in your relationship with lottie, you feel as though you two aren’t on the same page.

the next day at school was hell for lottie. you barely spoke to her; you didn’t sit with her and the team during lunch. she knew you were upset but she didn’t think you were this upset. you’ve always been so understanding about her passion for soccer, and you’ve never acted this way before. but… then again, lottie has never taken practice this serious. she just doesn’t want to let her team down, and she can see how much the girls want this. she wants it too, but she knows they have more on the line. tai wants a scholarship, and going to nationals will look great on a college application.

you’ll get over it. lottie tells herself. that day she sees you waiting for her by the bleachers; there’s an unrecognizable expression drawn onto your features. she just finished changing into her practice clothes and cleats, and she tries to smile at you, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “hey.” she says as she leans in to kiss you, but you tilt your head to the side in order for her lips to land on your cheek. “hi… we should talk. i’ll make it quick.” you promise and she nods uncertainly, a feeling of unease creeping up on her. “i don’t really like the way i’ve been feeling lately…” you start, and she opens her mouth to talk but you stop her.

“… i’ve always felt like you and i have been on the same page, but lately i just feel like your mind is strictly on soccer. for the entire year you’ve been spending extra time practicing, and you barely talk to me about anything other than it. you blow me off for practice and you’ve missed all of our date nights for the last three months.” you point out, and lottie shakes her head. “y/n, do you understand what’s at stake here? not just my future, but all of my teammates. i’m not just working this hard for me, it’s for my team. i’m sorry if you’re feeling a little ignored and craving attention, but until nationals are over, you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with it.” she states, sounding a bit frustrated.

you look shocked with her words; she’s never been that blunt and cruel. here you were telling her how you felt and she was being like this. lottie can see the look on your face, you look as though you’re about to cry. though she’s much too stressed to care, so instead of deciding to apologize like she normally would, she scoffs. “i don’t have time for this. every day is another problem with you. it’s getting annoying.” lottie snaps, and you try to blink away the tears as you clench your jaw. she sounds so much like her father (who she hates), it nearly makes you laugh.

“well, i’m sorry for wanting to spend some time with you. i’m sorry i actually believed you when you promised me you’d make time and put in the slightest bit of effort for me. that was clearly my mistake. don’t worry, matthews, i promise i won’t be a problem for you anymore.” you hiss, tears in your eyes as you sound angry and hurt. lottie watches you leave and she stands there, feeling like a complete asshole. before she can even consider chasing after you, coach ben blows his whistle, signaling for all the girls to get on the field.

so here’s the thing, when you promised lottie you wouldn’t be a ‘problem’ anymore, she wasn’t exactly sure what you meant. but the next day, you came to school with a small box of her things in your hands. you march right up to her, there was nothing but determination on your face. lottie wasn’t stupid; she knew what this meant and it causes her heart rate to pick up anxiously. “the rest of your stuff you can come pick up whenever. it was too big to bring to school.” you say, keeping your voice quiet so no one can hear. lottie looks like a kicked puppy, “wh-what do you mean?“ you almost feel bad about the clear fear in her tone as she realizes she’s losing you.

“it didn’t fit in the box, so you can come and pick it up whenever.” you repeat more clearly, as if you hadn’t been clear as day the first time. “i know that… i just mean— why are you giving me my stuff back?” she asks, completely afraid of the answer. you don’t respond, and the silence tells her everything. “you’re breaking up with me over a fight?” she asks a bit angrily, and you shake your head; your poker face faltering. “i’m breaking up with you because you act like you don’t want to be with me! i’m not asking you to stop prioritizing soccer, i just wanted a little effort, lottie. you couldn’t even give me that.” you point out, pushing the box into her arms.

“like i said, you can pick up your other stuff whenever you’re not too busy.” you practically hiss at her, before you turn around and leave her standing there. lottie feels as though she’s been slapped in the face. the one person she had figured would always be there, was now walking away from her and disappearing into the hoard of bustling students. natalie, who had been watching the entire ordeal from her locker, walks up to lottie. “what was that about? it looked serious…” natalie starts cautiously, trying to make sure her best friend is okay. lottie looks worse than when becky martin started telling the entire school about lottie being schizophrenic. but you were there for her throughout all of that; never caring about her diagnosis or thinking of her any differently. she was always your lottie. but now she wasn’t your anything.

lottie starts to tear up, and natalie’s eyes widen at the sight of the broken-hearted girl. “she dumped me.” lottie admits in a frail tone, a tone natalie has never heard from the raven haired girl. “shit… seriously? what happened?” natalie asks, and lottie proceeds to tell her best friend everything. she tells her all about how she began neglecting you at the begin of the year, and you being you, always let it slide. yet as she became more and more emotionally and physically unavailable, she began leaving you alone.

she tells natalie about how these last few weeks she was a total nightmare. she even forgot to text you some days. natalie looks shocked at this revelation; you two always seemed like such a great couple. you hadn’t even let anyone know there was trouble in paradise. the bell rings, and natalie clasps lottie’s wrists and begins to lead her towards the schools exit. natalie knew the last thing her friend needed was to be surrounded by a bunch of annoying students in class.

as soon as they get to the bottom of the bleachers, natalie flashes her a stern look.

“alright matthews, you screwed up, but i’m gonna help you fix it.” lottie looks shocked at natalie’s declaration, and she shakes her head. “why? why do you wanna help me?” she questions, and natalie shrugs. “you’re my best friend. plus y/n is a good person who actually gives a shit about you. you’re never gonna forgive yourself if you don’t fix it.” natalie’s voice is stern, and lottie nods in agreement.

“what should i do?” the yellowjackets sweeper asks uncertainly, and natalie offers her a mischievous smirk. “i have an idea that could work.” natalie admits, as she begins to give lottie a list of ways she could romance you. lottie listens, clearly very interested.

that weekend is the hardest. lottie has never gone longer than a day without hearing your beautiful voice. you two never really fought throughout your relationship; you learned pretty early into your friendship with lottie that her home life was mean and harsh enough. you never dared add any hurt to her life. when lottie was upset she quickly realized she could talk to you about anything; you were so easy to open up to, and no matter what you were doing you always made time for her.

the entire weekend lottie feels like trash. she realizes that she doesn’t even know how you’re doing. you two barely broke up, yet it feels like she hasn’t truly talked to you for months. god, maybe she was a terrible girlfriend. she put soccer before you, and now she doesn’t even feel like going to practice. though she knows she has to. she has an obligation to her friends and team… but she can’t help but feel like she let you down, and you didn’t know it but you were one of the most important people in her life.

now she fears that if none of natalie’s ideas work, she’ll lose you for sure. she’s tried to text you nearly every day since the breakup on friday, but you refuse to answer any of her texts. she even tried calling you on saturday night, but you didn’t pick up. when monday rolls around lottie comes to school with a huge bouquet of sunflowers and red roses. your two favorites. she hasn’t felt this nervous since she first asked you to be her girlfriend, except right now she knew you didn’t want to talk to her or even see her.

everyone looks at the raven haired girl as soon as she walks into school. surely everyone knows about your breakup by now, because mari is your best friend and she also seems to have the biggest mouth. not to mention she had been glaring at lottie all throughout practice on friday evening. she could tell you told mari everything and by the looks she was receiving she could tell everyone else knew now too.

as soon as she sees you standing by your locker talking to mari and akilah, mari’s eyes zero in on the tall raven haired girl making her way up to you. your best friend taps on you, and nods in lottie’s direction. you turn your head, and instead of your eyes lighting up at the sight of her and the bouquet, your large orbs fill with dread. her step falters a bit but she keeps her head high as she approaches you. “y/n… these are for you. i’m really sorry.” lottie’s voice is small, and you shake your head.

“they’re beautiful, but they aren’t going to fix anything.” you deadpan and lottie frowns. “i know that. but i thought maybe they could be the first step to fixing things?” she suggests and you glance at akilah and mari. you reach for lottie’s free hand and lead her to a secluded spot in the hall. “why are you doing this here? in front of everyone?” you ask her with supplicating eyes, and she knits her brows together. “because you won’t return my calls, and i haven’t stopped thinking about you. y/n, if you’d hear me out, i know i could fix this.” she pleads with you, and those eyes nearly make you cave.

you quickly remind yourself how you both ended up here, causing you to shut your eyes and take a breath. when you open them, lottie has a hopeful expression etched onto her features. “i gave you plenty of chances to fix it when we were together. for the last two months i’ve given you nothing but chances. you told me time and time again that soccer was your priority, and i respect that. so please respect my decision and leave me alone.” you whisper the last part a bit harshly as you turn around and storm away.

lottie stands there, heartbroken and ashamed. she looks at the flowers that seem to be taunting her. she crushes the stems in her hand as she approaches the nearest trash bin, tossing them in. so much for flowers and a heartfelt apology. lottie feels like a fool for even trying.

a week goes by and lottie is practically a walking zombie. she’s barely been eating or sleeping. she was so used to falling asleep on facetime with you, or falling asleep texting you… now she can barely get a wink of sleep. all she can think about is how mean to you she was the day before you two broke up. god, she can’t get that sad, puppy dog expression you flashed her out of her head.

“come on, lottie! where’s your head at!?” tai snaps in the middle of a scrimmage. lottie had been paying less attention to anything that didn’t have to do with you these days. it’s ironic, it took her losing you to realize what she had. her notes for her classes were empty lately, her parents didn’t even notice she was barely saying a word at home, and practice was the worst. lottie was so used to seeing you in the bleachers during most of her practices; you’d be watching her with this big smile on your face, or doing homework. you always looked so pretty. now you weren’t there and lottie never realized how happy seeing you sitting on those bleachers made her. how important she felt that you spent time watching her practice because you didn’t want to be away from her.

lottie doesn’t get her head in the game even after being yelled at by tai. in the locker room, its worse. “what the hell, lottie?? we’re this close to winning nationals and you choose now to start slacking??” tai asks harshly, natalie steps in before lottie can respond. “hey, leave her alone she’s had a shitty week.” natalie states sternly and tai rolls her eyes. “so have all of us! newsflash, the world doesn’t stop because lottie matthews is going through a breakup. we’re a team, meaning you need to get your mind together and focus on the game.” tai’s voice is angry and demanding.

lottie feels a surge of rage wash over her. “not everything is about soccer!” she snaps back loudly, taking the curly haired girl and most of the girls by surprise. “god, you’re all so worked up over this fucking game next week that we’ve all been nightmares! jackie, you and shauna have been at each offers throats for weeks, tai you’ve barely talked to van about anything other than nationals, laura lee has been praying to god for nothing but us winning, mar’s been a bigger cunt than usual, natalie is stress drinking again, and my girlfriend dumped me because i was ignoring her for months! for a sport i used to have fun playing, with a team who used to actually give a shit about each other!” lottie lets it all pour out like a leaky faucet, and everyone stands there dumbfounded by the outburst.

“lottie—“ tai starts but lottie slams her locker shut. “fuck this.” she hisses as she swings her nike duffle bag over her shoulder and storms out of the locker room. she doesn’t even bother changing out of her uniform. lottie’s blood is boiling and her teeth are gritting all the way to her car. she feels as though in a week her entire life has spiraled downhill. she’s been downhill more times than she can count, but she’s never been there without you. this sucks.

she seems to be so upset that she doesn’t even realize she’s driving in the direction of your house. she feels so lost, and it seems she ended up where she feels the safest. with you. lottie aimlessly approaches your door; she’s still in her soccer uniform and her hair is in loose pigtails. the way you always said made her look undeniably cute. she knocks on the door and looks down at her dirty cleats. she thinks about how unhappy you’re probably going to look to see her; she isn’t used to that. she hates it.

her eyes well up with tears and she sniffles, the door swings open before she can think to cover up the fact that she was crying. you had seen her through the peephole, putting on your best angry face before you answered the door. but as soon as you saw the broken girl in front of you, and you heard the sad little sniffle, your face softens immediately. “are you okay?” even though you know it’s a dumb question, you still ask because you don’t want to sound harsh. she doesn’t look like she needs anymore of that.

“i— i didn’t know where else to go.” she admits lowly, roughly wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. you give in quickly, stepping aside for her to come in. “what happened?” you ask her as she steps inside, taking her shoes off politely in a way that makes you smile. even in her sad state, she still remembers your mothers rules. “i got into a fight with tai… you were right, lately we’ve all been terrible. i’ve been terrible. to you especially. i’m really sorry, y/n.” she sounds sincere and sad, you can see her staring hopelessly at you; waiting for you to say something.

you press your lips together before letting out a sigh, turning your head away from her. “it’s okay. i understand. nationals are a lot of pressure, and i just think maybe right now it’s better if we’re just friends. i want a normal relationship, and i want my girlfriend to be as excited about prom as i am. i want to be able to go to the movies and have date nights without worrying about getting in the way of your schedule. i just think we want different things now.” you explain, trying to keep your voice light but she can hear the sadness laced through your tone clear as day.

lottie shakes her head rapidly, standing up and inching towards you. “i want those things too. i love our date nights, and you never get in the way of my schedule. i promise. i am excited about prom— at least i was… when i knew i was going with you.” lottie’s response is quiet and low, making you frown. “you never even asked me to prom, lot. it’s next month!” you point out and lottie flashes you those puppy eyes you could never resist when you were together. why does she have to be so cute?

“please go to prom with me.” she insists and before you can decline, and goes on. “i want to prove to you we still want the same things! if you still don’t want to be with me after prom… okay. i’ll respect your decision. but you have to let me try. please.” lottie sounds desperate, and she’s borderline begging. you let out sharp exhale, “fine. fine. i’ll go to prom with you, matthews. but i swear to god if you mess this up again, we’re done.” you warn her and she nods eagerly, reaching for your hands.

“i promise! i’m not gonna let you down this time!” she swears as she leans in and places a kiss on your cheek. “this times gonna be different.” she assures you, and you allow her to pull you in for a hug. you melt into her embrace, and you hesitantly wrap your arms around her. you can’t hope but help she’s telling you the truth this time. you suppose the only thing you can do is wait and see.

[lightlycareless]

I found a picture of Naoya playing the piano and want to show it to you. My fav scene where naoya teaches his wife piano. I love the scene sm 🤭🤭

HIIII how are you!!!!??? Thank you for patience 🥺

Omg thank you so much for sending me this ajkghajgajgs Naoya is a man of many talents, and him using them to brighten your day is 🥺 I'll always hold that scene close to my heart, them bonding together is just 😭 oh, I wish we could have more moments like that.

And we can... I mean, I wrote a little something, like a deviation from what I have planned lol a what if, if you must 😏

warnings: none. fluff. it's based on this fic. now that's a whole can of worms. proceed with caution.

Imagine you deciding to continue your piano lessons after growing somewhat genuinely interested in learning.

After a few sessions you’ve began to show improvement. Sure, you still struggle with certain things, such as jumping from one octave to the other, but anyone could easily admit you were not the same amateur from before.

And yet… there seemed to be something holding you back from taking the next step. You were already a master of twinkle twinkle little star, so why couldn’t you move onto something a bit more difficult?

Well, it was plain simple. Quite obvious, actually, for an outsider that is. Naoya was too blinded by his role as a teacher to even notice.

It was all intentional, made from your desire to keep him close, enjoying the way he’d place his arms around you, his large hands over yours as he guides you into the correct position to play even if you already knew how.

All to keep feeling his breath on your skin, the cologne you now solely associated with him, and you suppose his attention too, especially when you played the shy, tense student that desperately needed the guidance of her sensei.

To voice such ploys made you feel silly, if not selfish, but you didn’t know how to voice your need without feeling embarrassed. You didn’t want to appear needy before a man that is always busy, and yet, here you were, acting as if you’d never seen a piano in your life.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Naoya loves spending time with you, even though seemingly mundane activities. But even he was getting a bit… frustrated with these lessons that were quickly growing repetitive. His perfectionist temperament demanded he’d do everything right, or at least strive for it, naturally extending to you. Obviously for you, the woman whom he wanted to please more than anything in this world.

You showed enough promise, a talent that could be polished if pursued, so why weren’t you advancing?

Was it… him, perhaps? Your actions consequence of his failure as a teacher?

Maybe. Naoya isn’t known for being a particularly good listener, less of an educator. There’s enough witnesses to asses to it.

Your husband just hopes his incapability doesn’t push you away from wanting to learn piano, Naoya would rather die than to cut short these already scarce moments with you.

Though it’s more likely that he’ll do that anyways, a well-prepared teacher appears to be a better alternative.

“… but I don’t get it. Maybe there’s something I’m not seeing.” Naoya frowns, adjusting his position near you and taking your hands with him once more, hoping that it’ll come to him. The solution to your problem.

He sighs when it doesn’t. For the nth time. Maybe he is a bad teacher after all.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t think I’ll be able to teach you anymore.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’m just having a tough time figuring out how to help you.” Naoya laments. “I may have underestimated my skills.”

You know what they say, the best way to check if you know something is by teaching it to someone else. Something like that, or so he’s heard.

“Don’t say that I think you’re doing great!” You encouraged, looking over to Naoya and his deep frown, evidence of the frustration your little ploy has inflicted on him. Had you known he would be so affected by it you would’ve gone easier with your obliviousness…

And yet, it was endearing to see your impact on him. How hard he was trying to make things work for you—you still couldn’t believe how much of an influence you had on him, even if he’s already proved the lengths he was willing to go to make you happy.

…Like the protective husband he swore to be on your wedding day.

“You don’t have to mock me, mochi” Naoya insists. “I think you’d be better off with an actual teacher if you still want to learn.”

You do, but…

“…I want you.” You murmur, so lowly, so… sweetly, that Naoya had to double check he heard you right the first time around, quickly swirling his head onto your direction, frozen the moment your doe-like, hypnotizing eyes, those he could never get enough of, landed on his, with such intensity that let him know it was all true.

The purpose you were attempting to convey many lessons ago instantly becoming clear to him. The intentions you were too shy to speak out loud, but not enough to sway you from trying, an unknown edge of yours that had him both impressed and absorbed.

One never stops knowing their partner, do they?

What an enthralling thought to have.

“Is that so?” He murmurs back, leaning closer to you. “You’d be fine with someone like me as your teacher, princess?”

“I couldn’t think of anyone… better.” You blush. And though intimidated by his piercing gaze, you persisted. When you once cowered away, you now wished to be the only person his eyes saw.

“Then I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

Maybe it’s because he was within your reach, or because you had enough of going around in circles, whatever it was, you couldn’t hold back anymore; and with the noise of your heart deafening your ears, you lean closer to him, removing the gap between the two and placing your lips over his. Gently, sweetly, like it was your first time, and took him in—sealing your newfound sentiments with a kiss he’s long been dreaming of.

So much that he’s almost in disbelief, remaining still as he tries his best to both contain his excitement, heart ready to burst through his chest, hands itching to pull you closer and keep you there, afraid that the moment he peels away you’ll disappear, just as he’s forced you to through the beginning of this marriage.

Naoya too felt like it was the first time he’s ever kissed anyone—perhaps kissed anyone with love. With that soft warmth he could only label as true love. What he feels for you now, has always been so, and hopefully, you too.

After a few seconds, much to Naoya’s dismay, you’re the first one to separate, slowly pulling away and opening your eyes to the sight of your flustered husband, the adorable face of a man that has dreamed of this day for god knows how long, giving you the impression (alongside a sense of guilt) that maybe you should’ve been a bit more direct with your actions.

Though how everything came to be… wasn’t that bad.

“You didn’t have to go through all that, you know?” Naoya teases, his attempt to cool down the heat on his cheeks. “If you just wanted to kiss me, you just had to say so.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you joke back, and he smirks, letting out a chuckle. “…But I guess I shouldn’t have wasted your time.”

“Being with you is no waste of time.”

Now it’s your turn to grow speechless, face red, perhaps even more than Naoya’s, due to the vast, unexpected sweetness of his words, and the overwhelming embarrassment it provided you, leading you to cover your face with your hands and making him laugh even louder.

“You don’t need to act this way with me, love.” Naoya says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “We’ve done more… heated things, after all. This is nothing.”

“Oh, stop it! Is that your way of comforting me?!” You gasp, burying your face deeper into his chest.

“It is the truth, love. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“You know well I wasn’t referring to that” you murmur. “…but… do you really feel that way…?”

“I’d give you the whole world if you asked.”

But even if you didn’t, he was going to do so, because he has long sworn in his own life that he’d do everything in his power to make up for all the wrongdoings he’s inflicted upon you. His best to erase the vile acts he did when he called himself your so-called husband.

For as long as it takes, all of his lifetime if so needed, and the next one, and the next one.

“I think I’ll be happy just to hear you play the piano for now.” You eventually add. “If you don’t have anything else to do.”

“I’m all yours today—”

“And...” you interrupt, Naoya blinks.

“And?”

“If I can kiss you again.” You say, shyly looking up to him. “If you want…”

“Hm, I don’t know… you’ll have to convince me.”

“How do I do that?” you tilt your head.

“By giving me a kiss for each time you had me going around in circles.”

With unprecedented speed, you quickly grabbed his face and begging to pepper kisses all over his face, Naoya more than happy that you were, and a bit startled too.

“Wait, Y/N—did you even want to learn how to play??” He rightfully concludes.

“A bit, I guess.” You giggle. “But really I just wanted to be with you.”

Naoya immediately succumbs to your gestures soon after that, putty on your hands as he lets himself be appreciated by the woman of his dreams, the love of his life—the owner of his heart.

Your heart squeezes with longing. Who knew Naoya could be this… adorable? So sweet, you didn’t have the heart to deny him—

Nor would you, setting to live out the rest of your life as his wife.

For good, this time.

I always liked the idea of you being able to feel Naoya's heart. Like, how fast it is beating because of how happy he is with you 🥺 Thankfully I do have another prompt with that exact same situation, though it's a HS au. Also, this is not their fated kiss I owe y'all, I think what I have planned is much better 😏 (or so I hope)

Now, thank you so much for waiting for my answer 🥺 I'm still slowly but surely working through them requests :> I always appreciate whenever you send me something (so don't be afraid of sharing more hehe)

Take care and hope to see you soon!!

[hwajin]

✞ 「 .✶۪ .° ✞ : 𝐇 𝐈 — 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐄 !! : a series

☆ — chapter one; Soda Pop :

✞ 「 .✶۪ : see series masterlist and warnings here

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter word count: 12.1k

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter warnings: fluff and angst, y/n's kind of an asshole, first mentions of cheating!!, stupidity and immaturity

✞ 「 .✶۪ : heavily inspired by: 'nana' by ai yazawa!

author's note: it's finally here!!!! i've been crafting on this series for a good year now, and while i know it's nowhere near good because serieses aren't my strength at all, i hope you'll still enjoy it!! pleaseee please please let me know what you think of it, every bit of feedback is highly appreciated <3333 enjoy <3

The sound of console buttons and video game soundtrack filled the stuffy studio, particles of dust dancing in the burning summer sun. Han bit against his lip piercing while he plugged his guitar into the old AMP the bunch of you had found on a flea market two years ago – it’s been roughly thirty dollars, and you had sworn to have found heaven back then; admittedly, though the old box was working to its’ best abilities, it was high time to hunt for a new one. Han’s heavy silver rings scratched against the yet untuned strings of his instrument, and the sound was almost uncomfortable; though never quite, for it was music after all.

You would never grow tired of it, you thought. Of music, of everything revolving it – it was your everything, your earliest memories, your dearest experiences; your closest friendships, even. Ever since your parents had bought you your first electric piano – one for kids only, and not of best quality altogether though you had loved it all the same – notes and tunes had been all around you, always. With seven years old you’d been signed up for your first piano lesson, which no other kid in your course had been as excited to visit as you had been; with ten years, mere three years later, when Han had moved into your neighbourhood with his parents, you’d convinced your own to let you visit guitar lessons with him. They hadn’t needed much persuasion; they’d noticed early on just how much you enjoyed the hobby, and they’d never been ones to forbid you passion. There had been fights when your parents had realised you’ve been far more serious about music than they had imagined, or hoped, even; at fifteen years old you had planned to drop out of school with your best friend, and both your and his parents had lost hours of sleep and nerves convincing you of the opposite. Two years later, at seventeen, both you and Han were sure not to apply to college, initially – that, too, had caused tears and frustration over both of you and your parents. You and Han, having felt pressured to take action, had decided to apply to a college, somewhat pretentiously, where you would start an amateur band – it would keep both you and your families happy.

You set up your microphone, guitar long in hand, the worn-out leather band cutting into your neck, pulling at loose strands of hair, the weight of your instrument laying heavily on your shoulders. You were used to it; enjoyed the feeling like nothing else.

“Guys, wrap it up, some of us have classes soon.”

Just then Changbin’s groan sounded against Jeongin’s shout of victory – in three years of knowing the pair there has been only one occasion on which Changbin has won a game of Mario against Jeongin; that the younger had been knocked out drunk back then, Changbin never wanted to admit. The older man threw his console onto the carpeted floor in frustration, emitting a cloud of dust where it hit – his determination to win was admirable, if you were honest, though his pouting and sulking was amusing every time anew.

“Bro, I swear you’re dead next time.”

Jeongin snickered as they both made their way to their positions behind you, and the rest of you erupted in a fit of protests and laughter. “You should accept defeat to be honest, I’d be embarrassed by now if I was you – there’s bad game play, and then there’s you.”, Han’s voice thinned out towards the end of his sentence when Changbin shot him a deadly look – the younger momentarily busied himself with his guitar again, merely smirking to himself at his friends’ sensitivity.

“Guys, c’mon now, we don’t have all day.”

The two friends both mockingly imitated you, though got behind their instruments – Jeongin stood behind the long-ready piano, Changbin picking up his long-tuned bass. The small college studio momentarily filled with vibrations and resonances of instruments – Jeongin playing warm-up chords, Changbin letting chime a long tone, Minho, who all of you – after you’d seen a commercial on the TV you had now long forgotten – had started calling Lino over your years of friendship besides his very active protest against it, gave a couple experimental sounds against the snare of his drums behind the thin plexiglass he was seated. It was heaven to your ears. There was nothing, you’d argue, that you loved more than the sound of the small room filling up entirely with the harmonies of your instruments, every single one coming together to play the songs Han wrote so diligently for your little amateur band besides his college assignments. Not that he was taking them too seriously, anyways – he planned to be a musician, no matter the cost.

“Alright, everyone in position, everyone ready?”, you waited for the lot to groan softly in agreement, looking back at them all to give you a nod, “I’ll count in…”, the tension in the studio thickened now, all bickering forgotten; and everyone waited for your commando, “five…”, a beat, your voice sounding through the room, “six…”, another beat, your voice louder now, your fingers ready on your instrument, everyone else watching you intently, adjusting in their position, “five, six, seven, eight!”

The room erupted in deafening volume, Jeongin’s synthetic piano sounding softly against Lino’s loud kick drums, Changbin’s bass harmonising with Han’s guitar; your voice sounding above it all.

It hadn’t been until you were out of school four years ago when you had started singing, so, naturally, you weren’t the strongest vocalist; it was Han who had convinced you to give it a try, arguing the tone in your voice to be unique, and diminishing, simultaneously, the necessity of looking for a vocalist for the band you had started planning back then, already. Your skills had gotten better over the years – your bandmates had made it fashion to remind you of it, no less because you yet needed to learn to acquire confidence in your skill. Four years later – you liked your voice, and the five of you had found the sound that fitted it best, despite your remaining weaknesses.

‘Hope’ – the name of the band, the name of Han’s and Jeongin’s favourite cigarette brand. You had been nineteen and not very creative, had all, except Lino, met on the first day of college which only half of you took seriously – you were one those after your initial rebelling against it, wanting something stable and secure in case practical music wouldn’t work out in the long run; so, you’d decided to study theoretical and historical music, hoping to find yourself in the same field after all. You enjoyed your studies – as much as one could enjoy talking of chords and cadences and harmonies instead of playing them, or discussing composers of genius minds who have died centuries ago –it was no comparison to the time you spent in the studio, the passion it brought, the utter joy that coursed your veins whenever you held your guitar in hands, stood before your microphone stand. Mozart and Bach could only spark your interest so much, if the small, dusty college studio and your bandmates in it were right around the corner.  

Changbin and Jeongin were both English students; both figured that taking a universally, to quote them, ‘easy major’ would allow them to focus on their music, and to spend as little time in a classroom as it was humanly possible to still pass – you wondered if they’ve ever seen one from the inside, altogether.

Lino on the other hand, a business major and taking his studies with diligence, though never seeming to be actually doing his assignments, only ever having finished them with perfect grades, seemingly magically, didn’t put too much hope into an amateur band, and simply enjoyed his hobby while working towards his future career. It was a shame, though – he was a genius drummer, his loudest when he carried two sticks in his hands; you didn’t remember if you’ve ever truly heard his voice over the past years, though he was compensating his usual silence the moment he sat behind his instrument; and if it wasn’t his instrument, he preferred spending his time with cats rather than with humans.

And lastly there’s been Han and you. Best friends since you were little, though you’ve never visited the same school, so all the more excited when you had decided to apply to the same college together – despite not for the same majors, you would still be together. The band was his idea, initially.

“LOOKING FOR: DRUMMER, BASSIST, PIANIST, SECOND VOCAL FOR AMATEUR BAND. CONTACT HERE.”

had been written on the hundreds of flyers Han had taken with him for the first day of college you had anticipated giddily, and he had hung up the pieces of paper on every free space of wall and pillar he could find around campus – back then you hadn’t been aware of needing a written permission of the colleges’ office to hang up advertisements, and Han was forced to take down his flyers within the same week –, you had laughed at him and called it silly; though Changbin and Jeongin, friends since a little before college, had sat next to you both at the first-semester-students ceremony, and had caught eye of the papers in Han’s lap.

“Wait, it’s your flyers we’ve seen around? We’d be so down!”

You had eyed them sceptical back then – they had looked far too typical for an amateur-college-band, almost, heavy silver chains hanging around both their necks, their nails coloured pitch black, Jeongin looking at you with a nose piercing and blond streaks in his hair, their outfits raven and dark; though you had looked at Han, unevenly self-bleached hair, an eyebrow piercing adorning his face, his own scratched down black nail polish begging to be reapplied, boots on his feet two numbers too big, and you’d noticed, almost shamefully, that all four of you had looked like the prime example of people to form an amateur-college-band on the very first day of classes. It hadn’t needed much more conversation after that; the two friends had been welcomed into the band that had previously consisted of only you and Han, and Lino had contacted you three days later – right before Han had bashfully taken off his flyers.

It had needed some time until the five of you had started to click and work together; though yours and Jeongin’s voice had mixed well from the get-go, and everyone’s skill had been to a far higher standard than either you or Han would have anticipated. Lino had surprised you the most; while Changbin had been cocky from the first day you met him and Jeongin had been confident about his skills, Lino hadn’t talked much, nor had he looked, even, like a typical drummer. Not that there was a certain look to them, you simply wouldn’t have expected that under the quiet nature there was so much vigour and emotion, so much volume the moment he had given you a first idea of his level and skill, to see if he was a fit for your band at all; it had been fascinating, was to this day.

The song ended, the cups of your fingers aching, your neck strained, your voice in need of water; it was a successful practice. Jeongin and Changbin both expressed sounds of satisfaction, Han joining them while the echo of your instruments vibrated in the room for a couple moments, before they died out eventually.

“That was so good! The best we did so far, I think!”

Voices sounding through the room, and you turned around to look at your friends. Everyone joined into exclamations of praise, turning off and unplugging their instruments, stretching, cracking their knuckles. Conversation of pride filled the room; the praise never lasted long, though.

“Bin, stay in my rhythm a bit more next time, especially in the second half – don’t get too excited.”, Lino’s voice from behind the glass while he made room to get up from behind his seat. When you had first started practising with him, the tone in his voice during words of critique almost scared you, though with time you acquired to him, and learned to love his honesty – he was never condescending about mistakes, and always accepting of bettering his own errors.

“Yeah, I noticed too, my bad. I lose my count after the chorus. And I was distracted by you two,” Changbin gave a quick look between you and Jeongin, “you need to harmonise better. There was some dissonance after the first part, you need to sit down and figure out the second half better.”

You nodded at Jeongin, he returned it, knowingly. There were never hard feelings after critique, not anymore – initially, when you had started out, all of you had wanted to prove your rights, all far too proud to accept defeat, though now you loved your bandmates for being able to speak what’s on their mind, for it would only improve you as a whole.

“Well, and you two lovebirds were perfect, as always.”, Jeongin commented nonchalantly while unplugging his piano and mic. He meant you and Han, though neither of you were bothered by the comment. It was a running joke; you bore the longest friendship in the group, harmonised near perfectly every practice – how could you not, if practising and playing the guitar together had been everything you’ve busied yourselves with when you’d been younger? Despite having tried to convince the rest of the band that neither you nor Han bore any feelings for the other, nor would fuck to ‘get it out of the system’, as Changbin had so lovingly commented once, the jokes never ended; you had simply grown indifferent to them. You snickered, shooting your best friend a quick look; he winked at you approvingly, turning off the AMP and packing away his fire-red guitar – you followed him, unplugging and turning off everything that needed to be unplugged and turned off, before putting your own black instrument on the designated stand in between Han’s and Changbin’s ones. Lino already waited by the entrance door, bag thrown lazily over his shoulder, a pack of ‘Hi-Lite’s in his hands, one cigarette between his lips. He offered Changbin one when said male reached him by the door, and didn’t bother offering the rest of you any – you didn’t smoke not to damage your voice, Han and Jeongin couldn’t stand the brand the other two men smoked. Han got hold of his bag lying on the old leather sofa and his scattered belongings – headphones, notebook and a pen, a snack he had bought earlier, a pack of his beloved ‘Hope’s – and gave Jeongin a cigarette while catching one between his teeth himself. The bunch of you made it out of the studio – Lino, as the oldest, bore privileges over the key to the studio, locked the room and scurried over to the rest of you as you already made your way to the main building of the University. You weren’t a college band, not officially, though your location of practice was on campus – you had asked Mr. Hwang, your music teacher and head of the music department, if there, by any chance, was a forgotten room the five of you could use. To your surprise he had been most enthusiastic about both your question, and your band in general; allegedly he’d been in one as well when he was younger which had never lead to success, so he took pleasure in encouraging you with your own; his visiting during your practices weren’t a rarity, and the five of you were quite fond – and amused, slightly – of his support.  

“Ji, you have fire?”

The guitarist searched for a lighter in his jeans’ back pocket, handed it to everyone after lighting his own cigarette.

“God, I need this before class.”, Changbin expressed in exaggerated exhaustion, blowing out blue smoke into the hot summer air. His black hair fell over his darker eyes, and you giggled at his comment.

“Do you, now? As if you and Innie will go to class today.”

Han laughed softly at your words, blew out his own puff of smoke while Changbin and Jeongin started to get defensive – a habit they acquired lately, because both of them were on the verge of failing their semesters. You knew they’d skip their lessons anyways.

Lino was the first to bid goodbye, having to walk opposite of the rest of you for his classes. He left saying he’d be back after his hours for another session of practice; the five of you had acquired to practice twice a day, more if the time gave chance. You all saw him off, continuing your journey further down campus. The heaviness of your boots crunched against the pavement beneath your feet, the black of your clothes attracting the burning sun and making you sweat more than it was comfortable; though you were used to it. Changbin and Jeongin separated at last, despite making their way to their classroom they surely wouldn’t have enough self-control to truly sit there for a whole two hours. You teased them about it one last time before they saw you off with curses and middle fingers, and you and Han made your way to your favourite spot on campus; the vending machine right behind the music building.

Ever since you had started college you had come here with Han to get a drink before most of your classes – it surely wasn’t a healthy habit, it was your favourite one, though. You had deemed it a necessity to find a spot which throughout your college years would work as a safe haven against teachers and possible annoying co-students, a spot where you could talk music and gossip and, inherently, everything and nothing, entirely undisturbed. The vending machine didn’t stand far from a huge weeping willow, working perfectly against the summer sun, and it was being refilled only about once a week – it was an old and shabby machine, and you’ve never seen anyone but you two in the proximity of it.

“God, I’m so unmotivated for class today. Wish I could spend your free window with you.”, you expressed in anguish as you and Han reached the dispenser and the shadow of the tree with sweat-laced faces. Han chuckled while plopping down on the bench by the tree trunk, leaning back, eyes closed and played malicious joy writing his features.

“I told you, we should both drop out and focus on the band. I don’t even know if I’ll go to my one class for today.”

Your loose coins clinked soundly in your palm before you threw them into the vending machine, pressing the number two for a classic can of Coca Cola. You huffed out in amusement at Han’s proposal, snickered at his laziness.

“It’s like you wanna fail. You know your mom’s gonna kill you if you change your major again.”, you bickered while taking the cool bottle out from behind the plastic hatch; the cold condensation felt nice against your hot skin, and your mouth watered in anticipation for a freezing drink. “What are you doing with all your free time skipping class, anyway.” Your tone wasn’t condescending, nor was it much lecturing; you’d lie pretending you didn’t care for your best friends’ education and future, though, and his nonchalance towards it was concerning more often than not – you weren’t even sure what his major was at this point, and it worried you that he might not know, either. He did have the talent to become a successful musician, yet the industry had never simply relied on skills; it was luck and appeal and timing as much as all else.

“Well, first of all; duh, I wanna fail. At least I won’t have to study anymore, and my mom won’t be able to tell me I didn’t try.”, he returned with pride you didn’t quite deem appropriate given the context, and you tsked while he made his way from the old bench to the older vending machine, playing with the loose change in his pocket.

“And second, I use all the free time to write songs for the band you’re in, by the way, so you’re welco-”, he traced off, something external catching his attention mid-sentence, something yet unknown to you, and the man went from cocky demeanour to absolute and utter frustration in mere seconds, “No!! No, this is so unfair, they haven’t refilled my fucking root beer yet!!!” His sorrow echoed through the open, and you needed a moment to register his words, the true mundanity and vanity of them before you started laughing at him whole-heartedly. He went to lean against the glass of the vending machine dramatically, a puffed cheek against dirty glass and it mushed his face, driving to humour you further. One hand of his slid down the glass where the empty spot of his favourite drink stood in all its’ pride; it was almost Oscar worthy, and, to take matters further – and to make you laugh some more, you were sure – he topped it off with fake-crying; you almost choked on the Coke you had started drinking already. You had always adored his humour, his ability to bring light-heartedness into all and every situation – you knew he prided himself in the sounds of your laughter, often took jokes far beyond limit, until your stomach pained, and tears smudged your mascara.

“You know, I don’t even feel bad for you. Root beer is fucking disgusting; it’s a sign that you should change your go-to drink.”, the cold, bubbling liquid felt nice against your lips when you took a gulp after your snarky comment, which earned you a snarkier look. You shut up with a last giggle, and watched your friend carefully eyeing the available options for a drink, brows furrowed as though a far tougher decision than it was, lips caught between his teeth in utter – yet playful – seriousness.  

You loved him. Not romantically, never romantically – you cringed at the thought alone as you sat and lay your eyes on him, huffing out in amusement about his seemingly real frustration; yet you loved him. There was no other person dearer to you than him; you’d had your ups and downs as young teens, when hormones had been the only thing ruling your bodies and brains, though you had survived that time, and had been closer than ever afterwards. He was fun; there had never been a boring day if it was him by your side. He didn’t take himself nor others too seriously, viewed the world carelessly, which you had always admired – there’d been days you needed a listening ear, and days where you needed someone to get you out of the static of your own thoughts. Han had always been able to provide both, never not taking you seriously, besides his immaturity, for the lack of a better expression; he had always been the shoulder you cried on after heartbreaks, or fights with your parents, or ulterior and general hopelessness; and he had always been the happiness you craved for right after, his talent to distract you with music or video games or his own banal miseries far more admirable than he’d ever admit. Around him, you bore no filter, and you knew he didn’t either; with him you were human, had always been.

“Guess I have to be basic and take a Coke too, then.”, he tsked as you watched him dial the same number you had after throwing in his share of coins, and you laughed at his comment. His lip piercing was caught between his teeth as he made his way over to you onto the picnic bench, swinging one of his legs over the seat – his large boots always looked too big against his slim body, almost comical; yet it suited him, strangely. His dry, bleached hair fell over his eyes in bangs as he settled in comfortably, sipping his drink with another exaggerated sigh and faked disgust on his features at the loss of his beloved beverage; you scoffed in amusement, taking another big gulp of your soda. While Han enjoyed a free window after practice – and had both the courage and enough lacking willpower to not visit the class he had scheduled right after –, you had to rot away in music class until the five of you were able to meet up again, for afternoon practice; the hours during classes you always spent counting the minutes to be back in the studio, and sometimes the temptation of dropping out and embracing the band full time with Han by your side was so calling, that mid-lesson texts of it, and hopeless, juvenile plans of a music career weren’t a rarity between your best friend and yourself – the guilt of giving up with no solidity beneath your feet yet always took the upper hand, so big plans of bigger stadiums stayed texts, and you continued spending your daily classes in excruciating boredom.

During the couple minutes you had together, right after practice and before your next set of lessons, Han and you talked of everything and nothing. More often than not, it was involving music, his ideas and plans for new songs, possible schedules to practise, mistakes you and he had noticed in the rundown before and needed to correct for the rundown after. Rarely, though not never, both you and him would express doubts or feelings of hopelessness regarding the band and its’ future; another point you were ever comfortable speaking of in the presence of only him. Not because the others wouldn’t understand, or care; they surely would, and you thought they could even be decent listeners and advisers, much to your surprise had you first met them. Yet you preferred to save insecurities for later, when you and Han were in lonesome, could talk undisturbed; neither did you know of the importance the other three bore for the band, nor did you think it a good idea to talk of pointless negativity – ‘Where do we go after college?’, ‘What if the band never really breaks through?’, ‘Do we want it to break through, or are we simply  five friends enjoying music and each other’s presence?’ –; you deemed those thoughts to lead to discouragement to practise and play altogether, let alone keep the motivation should you ever decide to take the professional route. Yet, you could always talk of such fears with Han, for he always shared your worries; though currently, he was rambling about a new song he was planning – one he was allegedly writing specifically for you, and for your voice.

“I’ll show you the song when I’m done, I still have to edit a ton and it’s basically completely unfinished, and…”, a sip from his Coke and he looked at you, curiously, “I know you’re not the most confident in your voice, and the song might be out of our skill range…”, Han watched you listen to him carefully, piercing eyes following his every word, “but I’m writing this song to fit your range and tone perfectly, like- I’m writing it for your voice.”, his hands fiddled with the tin of the can under your gaze, almost nervously, as if confessing something he shouldn’t. His cheeks painted pink, only a shade or two yet you noticed, and he seemed to suddenly blink more than usual; strange. You emptied your Coke in a last gulp and Han’s eyes caught yours before you scoffed, softly.

“It’s unlike you to be so nervous about it. I’m sure it’s gonna be a good song, and I bet we will like it – I know I will; it’s written for me, basically.”, you snickered, and Han merely replied with a choked chuckle.

“I’m not… nervous about the song. I actually think it’s the best I’ve made so far, and, like- I think it’s gonna sound insane live, just… I don’t know. Whatever.”, another chuckle, forced, almost, and he avoided eye contact; very strange, truly.

You watched him carefully, wondered where the sudden insecurities stemmed from. Music, and songwriting in particular were his passions as much as they were yours, yet admittedly, he bore far more talent than you did; you had always admired it rather than growing envious of his skill, so far more confused now at his sudden humbleness.

“Show me the song when you’ve finished writing it, I bet it’s nice. Don’t be weird about it.” You nipped at the can of Coke one last time before throwing your worn-out bag over your shoulder, sighing exasperatedly. “Anyways, I have to hurry now. Don’t want Hwang to scold me in front of everyone for being late again.”

Han mumbled a reply, and you cocked your head at him in curiosity one last time – he wouldn’t leave a nagging thought uncommented, not if it was truly bothering him, though maybe he wouldn’t want to distract you before class. He would surely, you thought, mention whatever was making him nibble at his pierced lip and light another cigarette before you were even out of sight later before practice, and you took a mental note to ask him when you’d see him again. You left your empty can of Coke by the bench – you always allowed Han the pleasure of the deposit money for both his and your drink; he never not returned it by standing you a soda every once in a while – and made your way apart from him, from the cooling shadow, from the freezing drinks inside the dirty vending machine, from the comfort of your best friend – you bid goodbye with a last “See you later!” and disappeared behind the corner towards the music building, not without questioning Han’s last seemingly troubled expression.

☆.☆.☆

You sat behind your shabby, wooden desk in the hot, sweat-scented classroom, dimming out the chattering and gossip all around you with your earphones, scribbling doodles and lyrics into your notebook. Your blue pen materialised hearts and clouds and words into your yellowish piece of paper as you waited for Mr. Hwang to enter the classroom, as you waited for the two hours of boredom to pass as quickly as it was possible – or for your teacher to talk of a subject which could interest you, for that matter.

You furrowed your brows at the verses you were trying to make sense of; you weren’t much a songwriter, and despite Han’s patient teaching for the past couple months and your urge to improve your skill you were far from happy with any recent results. Your texts didn’t seem to carry a red line, context was hard to make sense of; you wondered if you had any talent for songwriting at all, or if you should leave said work to your best friend. You’ve acquired a habit of writing down anything you could think of for the sake of practice, to gather any spark of inspiration in written form, and going over it with Han on later occasion – only few verses and sentences of yours found themselves in a couple of his songs, and though you wished it could be more, he made it fashion to remind you it was already something to be proud of.

The heavy creak of the door and the following footsteps were the reason you stopped the music which blasted in your eardrums before taking out your earphones, the silhouette of your teacher strutting through the now murmuring classroom, whispers which sounded like questions, and a general confusion spread between the students; unbeknownst to you, yet, as you packed away your phone and opened your notebook on last weeks’ notes, before you finally converted your eyes to the front, finally caught a peak of you teacher; though it wasn’t the teacher you’ve expected to walk into the classroom, not Mr. Hwang, and your jaw would have hit the rough wood of your table if you’d had been any slower at gathering yourself. The man – not a stranger, though unseen and unthought of by you for the past five years – made his way into the spacy classroom, brown briefcase in hand, white dress shirt hugging the lines of his muscles, the ones on his arms exposed as he’d rolled up his sleeves. His attire was missing the tie you remembered him in, and, different to five years ago, the two top buttons of his shirt lay open around his chest – not showing inappropriate skin, though enough to tease, almost, to make you drool in your seat. His black dress pants moved with him as he settled behind his desk, briefcase on the table, one watch-adorned wrist making its way into his pants’ pocket leisurely as he looked around the class. He was visibly older, now that you had a good view of him – smile lines deeper, skin more textured, a certain calmness writing his pleasant features –he was just as attractive as you remembered him to be; more so, you’d dare to argue.

“Hi, my name is Mr. Bahng. Professor Hwang suddenly fell ill, unfortunately, and I’ll be his substitute teacher for the time being. I normally don’t teach college classes, but other professors sadly didn’t have the time – I’m well acquainted with Professor Hwang, though, so I agreed to take over his class for a few weeks.”

He was friendly. A charming smile adorned his face, a slight blush played around his nose as he looked around the room, looking at each student for a second or two before locking eyes with the next. For closure, for trust. Then he locked eyes with you, and it felt just like five years ago, when you were fresh eighteen years old, and a bored high school student in your last year before graduation.

.☆.

“I’ve never been so excited for class, oh my god.”

You had sat giddily in your seat, anticipating the arrival of your new music teacher. You had only seen him once so far, last week, when he had freshly relocated to the high school you’d gone to, and had been, quite literally and much to Felix’s misery and irritation, head over heels for the man – not because your friend had borne a crush for you; simply because you’d been utterly annoying with your high school love for your teacher. You’d known your yearning had been futile even back then, had known that Mr. Bahng wasn’t possibly interested in a mere girl who had just turned eighteen, yet you’d been young and in need for fun distraction, for amusement. And if that meant drooling over a young, hot teacher who had been just your type, it seemed, then you couldn’t complain.

Next to you, Felix had huffed in amusement as you kept eyeing the entrance door of the classroom, then the clock on the wall in front of you, then the door again. He had prepped his material for class already, in much contrast to your own entirely empty desk; saved for a piece of paper and a pen borrowed from your dearest high school friend.

“Your crush is getting unhealthy… he’s not gonna fuck you, you know.”

Felix hadn’t been judging, yet his voice had been teasing. You’d shot him a glance, had tsked at him which your friend returned with a mocking impression of you – fluttering eye-lids, airy lashes, a dumb-ish smile adorning his face.

“I know he’s not gonna fuck me… that’s not the point, though. Class is boring, and you take your academics way too serious to distract me from it.”, you’d retorted sarcastically, which Felix had accepted with a light-hearted scoff, going back to his notes from last week. You hadn’t been wrong; he wanted to get into college, and with good grades preferably. He’d known you had other priorities; he’d respected, enjoyed, even, your passion for music, and you'd always have the talent for it. The two of you had always been inherently different, though it had never bothered your friendship in the slightest.

Just as Felix had been about to retort with a snarky comment – or another far too accurate impression of your behaviour whenever Mr. Bahng was around – the door to the classroom had opened, and your music teacher had walked in – dress shirt buttoned up all the way, sleeves rolled down even in the hot weather, a careful tie adorning his fit. There’d been fewer lines of muscle back then, though they had been prominent enough to drive your teenage mind utterly insane. Your eyes had been glued onto him as he had welcomed the class, and Felix had struggled containing his laughter; you had been bashing your eyes at him, and you had been wearing a stupid smile around your lips at a mere look at him, just like your friend had mocked about earlier – and you had been either unaware of it, or you hadn’t been bothered enough to care.

You had eyed your teacher the entire lesson, and as much as Felix had wanted to stay focused, he had giggled and laughed at you, amused at your heart-eyes for someone so entirely unattainable. More often than once you had been in need to copy Felix’s notes because your thoughts – and eyes – had been elsewhere than the board, and more often than not Felix had pretended to stop helping you out in class any further, until you’d gotten over your crush; only in light hearted manner, though, because he couldn’t truly deny you of his help, would have felt far too bad to. Though, Felix had always admired your self-reflection in the matter of Mr. Bahng – there hadn’t been one incident in which you’d been unaware of the hopelessness and the unattainability your one-sided love presented – much to his dismay, because during free windows you would complain about it to no end –; and altogether, you had never spoken of love, in the first place. It had been butterflies, distraction from lessons, stupidity and immaturity – and you had always been aware of it; had always been aware of the impossibility.

.☆.

“Oh! And…Y/N, right? It’s nice to see some familiar faces!”

While you had been deep in thought, eyes wide and mouth agape – looking but a deer caught in the headlights, and upon the realisation of your expression you grew bashful – Mr. Bahng had named few students he remembered teaching back in school, happy some chose to follow the musical path before he started with the class, not lingering on you for a second longer after you nodded and smiled in approval; it almost frustrated you, his lack of attention to you – though anything else would have been strange, admittedly.

He had changed almost tangibly, though not by a lot, and into a direction far more pleasant than you'd had dared to expect. There was a change to his behaviour; when you had first seen him teach, he had been nervous, clammy; despite never in loss of control over the class he had clearly not borne much faith for his skills as a teacher yet. Now, standing before you in all his glory, black hair carefully slicked back in purposefully messy waves, constant lazy smile painting his features, he was more confident, far more secure in himself. It made sense; he’d been a fresh teacher five years ago, when he had walked into your classroom in uncertainty, so the gained experience surely did his practice advantage. He spoke with ease – about what, you weren’t quite sure –, each of his word dancing past his lips in serious and clear, yet laid-back manner, his writing on the board as messy as you remembered it, and more cursive now, his eyes finding home on every student sitting in class for a few moments before he moved on; he wasn’t pushing, yet he lured you into trusting him, into listening to his lesson – if you hadn’t been far more interested in his alternative qualities.

Mr. Bahng had always been a good teacher – though it had barely been the quality you liked about him most. You weren’t realising the pain your teeth caused your lips while you were looking at him, melting at the sight you had entirely forgotten over the past years. It was embarrassing, the way your eyes scanned the outline of his shoulders straining against his white shirt when he stretched to write on the board, how they followed the lines of his arm, the tensing of the muscles there when he applied pressure to the charcoal. You watched his hands – veinier than you remembered – as he erased older writings with a wet sponge; the water dripping down his skin felt far more erotic than it should, and, as though teasing on purpose, he got rid of the fantasy far too quick with a simple tap of a towel, leaving his hands dry, and you hot and bothered.

It was embarrassing, the way you couldn’t get your eyes off the curve of his back, and how the tucked-in button-down hugged around his torso, the slimness of his waist in contrast to his shoulders. He presented himself so very matter-of-factly before a class not his own, and it didn’t leave you cold – the subtle dominance, the care he radiated got you squirming in your seat, fiddling with your pen. The two hours you usually spent listening and taking notes were spent in utter awe at the man, in fantasising – you suddenly wished to be kissing down his chiselled jaw which tensed with every of his word, dreamt of licking down the vein on his neck which appeared whenever he turned his head to his right. His hands danced upon your body in your imagination, pressing you against his table, hovering over you and engulfing you whole, sending shivers down your spine with every kiss he granted upon your neck, with every bite he teased against your skin –

You coughed, without much purpose but it tore you out of your thoughts, and you straightened your back to sit up-right in your chair. You grew bashful at yourself, your imagination and the wet patch between your legs; you wouldn’t have expected the man to have the same effect on you as five years ago, and if you truly thought about it, it was quite embarrassing. You hadn’t even thought about your high school music teacher the moment you had graduated, had forgotten him entirely; now you were sitting in his class again years later, as though freshly eighteen anew, a dumb student yearning after a far older man; only now, you noticed as you watched him talk, the circumstances were far different – far more to your advantage. Technically, Mr. Bahng wasn’t your teacher anymore; he was teaching you, though you doubted it to count. He’d be gone again in a few weeks, when Professor Hwang felt better – so, you convinced yourself, he wasn’t your teacher, not technically. The age difference had stayed the same, quite obviously; though now it didn’t seem to quite bother you, not anymore – you’ve been with guys his age, and not rarely. Now you were older, and your crush of far better solidity, realer, almost; you could have him, could manage to wrap him around your fingers. The chances were far better. You weren’t, in fact, freshly eighteen anymore, nor were you a dumb student; and you bagged experience. It wasn’t of advantage to you that he remembered you from school – there was a risk you had stayed a student in his memory, young and immature and far too involved into a music teacher, though you didn’t think that would stand in your way; Mr. Bahng would be easy prey, surely. He wasn’t an impossibility anymore, he was there and real, easy to seduce.

“Let’s see… Y/N, you know the answer? You look sort of distracted.”

You hadn’t much realised the shameful path of your thoughts until the very man you had been sinfully thinking about had started speaking to you himself; you had, in fact, been distracted, and, much to your embarrassment, did neither know the answer nor were you aware of the question he had asked, altogether. You blushed, apologised bashfully – he simply continued with an understanding hum and a quick, kind gaze your direction, before picking another student to answer his question; you needed him, as soon as you could have him.

You’d be ashamed of your fantasising and longing, if it had been under different circumstances; though expectantly, you weren’t at all surprised about the tension flooding in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Mr. Bahng, or the way your thighs rubbed together when his eyes scanned yours for mere seconds; it had been ages since you’ve last been intimate with anyone, and your body was urging for closure, for contact and touch – it wasn’t an absurdity that the man who had caused many sleepless nights prior was now the culprit of a similar outcome.

You picked up where you had last stopped your train of thought; you could seduce him. Surely, if you craved intimacy and closure there were far easier men to aim for – but where would be the fun in that, truly? You had always liked a challenge; you had always liked him. And though your skills hadn’t been of much use lately, you believed yourself to have the charm – there wasn’t anything speaking against your plan, if you thought about it. If you disregarded the morality of the situation, that was.

The two hours of boredom flew past you today. Your notebook was entirely empty; you already dreaded having to find someone ready to lend you their notes of the lesson, though you cared only little while you watched student by student disappearing into their next lessons after Mr. Bahng had dismissed the class, each student opening the opportunity of talking to your teacher further and further. You took your time with your own belongings, dragging out the process of packing away your paper and pen, searching around in your bag for your headphones though it wasn’t at all necessary as they lay right atop your other stuff, only standing up when the last student left the hot classroom; and you found yourself alone with Mr. Bahng. He smiled up at you kind and unknowing as you made your way up to his desk, eyes not much lingering on you as he continued collecting his own materials and leaving the desk ready for the next professor; only when your smiling figure hovered over his own across the desk he looked up at you from beneath his lashes, his seating position painting the illusion of curious puppy eyes – he was far more attractive in the close up, and excitement, a sense of anticipation filled the entirety of your chest.

“Y/N, hello! Do you… need help with anything?”

You stood and stared; you hadn’t even thought of things to talk about with him, hadn’t prepared a pretentious question that could work as a possible opener – suddenly you grew embarrassed, bashful. You felt stupid under his gaze; what the hell were you doing?

“Oh, no… I just wanted to say hi! I haven’t seen you in ages… are you doing alright? Are you still teaching in *insert name of school*?”

Not bad, you thought, though you cringed at yourself; you wondered where all the previous confidence went the moment you stood before the man. The effect he had on you was far too embarrassing. You were far too old to feel like a teenager in love.

The teacher cocked his head at you, brows raised; he hadn’t expected the question, hadn’t anticipated small talk, seemingly. Yet he huffed out in amusement after blinking at you for a few seconds, and your heartbeat against the bones in your chest was deafening. You hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Uh, yeah, it has been a while… I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.”, he snickered, stood and continued packing his stuff. “You were… never really good in my class. I never knew you had an interest in music.” Seemingly harsh words though it was a light-hearted comment as he ended it in a laugh, and you joined his amusement. You were sure you were blushing, though you decided to ignore it.

“Yeah… I never had an interest in school, you know. I always liked music, though. I just prefer listening to and making it, instead of… just learning about it.” Your voice sounded smoother now; he was easy to talk to, kind, funny. He gave you a quick look before continuing collecting his variation of pens and a last notebook, a smirk dancing around his lips – god, you needed him.

Mr. Bahng hummed approvingly at your words, locking eyes with you after snapping in the locks of his briefcase. A smile and a cocked head, and you bashed your lashes at him; just like Felix had mocked five years ago. What were you doing, truly?

“Making it? You’re a songwriter?”

The genuine interest in his voice made you light-headed, stole every thought from you. His dark eyes pierced through your own, unmoving and sure, and you almost trembled under his gaze; if you wanted to get anywhere with him, you needed to channel the charm you thought you acquired, and grow resistance against the giddiness he caused in the pit of your stomach. Your current attempts were all but miserable.

“Uhh, not really. Not yet, that is. I’m... my friends and I are in a band, though. We’re practising here on campus.”

You tried to sound as laid-back as possible, watched his reaction carefully; you enjoyed being able to look at him to your desires, eyes travelling his features up and down, growing weaker any time you passed his plush lips he couldn’t seem to stop wetting with his tongue, or his jaw which tensed with every word he spoke. He was as irresistible as you remembered him to be, and you needed to learn to have the same effect on him. You had a time limit after all; Professor Hwang wouldn’t be sick forever.

His brows raised the moment he heard the word ‘band’ – his mouth formed a silent ‘ah’, and your body heated up at the anticipation of his next words; he was interested in you now, and you deemed that to be of advantage to you.

“In a band, huh?”, he huffed in reminiscent amusement, eyes growing softer, “I love that. I’m jealous, actually. My friends and I had always been so busy in college, but making music together has kinda always been… a dream, you could say. If I can be so honest.”, his cheeks blushed at the sudden confession, the tips of his ears reddening; he looked even more insatiable when flustered.

The man swung his briefcase over his shoulder; the conversation was obviously coming to an end, yet you felt as though you couldn’t let it. You didn’t expect to fuck him right then and there, today, to succeed with your plan in the short span of ten minutes – yet you needed more of a lead than you currently had.

“Well, you’re never too old to start. Except, you know, you’re busy with… a wife and kids, or whatever.”, you laughed at your own joke, eyeing him curiously; and the man didn’t join your amusement. His smile drooped, the creases between his brows deepened; and only now you noticed the shimmering gold band around his left ring finger. Undeniably, he did have a wife, and kids possibly; his reaction and the ring spoke for themselves. Yet, undeniably also, and much to your contentment – he didn’t seem to be on good foot with the subject. As the pair of you continued making your way to the door of the classroom you apologised upon having noticed his silence and sudden clamminess, yet, internally, didn’t regret your joke in the slightest; any form of closure and trust you could tickle out of him would work best for you in the long run. You flinched at your own sadism and the utter lack of remorse you felt at your planning. Though, there wasn’t any reason yet to feel guilty; as of now, and as far as everyone could be concerned, you were a student talking to a substitute teacher you’d known from high school. Whatever developed would be as much in your hands as it would be in his own; after all, no matter what your ultimate plan would be, Mr. Bahng would need to be the one accepting or dismissing your approaches. So really, no matter how you viewed the situation, you couldn’t be the villain in the picture. Not really.

“No, no, don’t worry. We’re just… my wife and I had been hitting rough patches lately, for some time. Nothing crazy, just- typical marriage stuff. Not that it is of any interest to you.” Flustered again, his face changing into a light tone of pink, and he hid behind the classroom door he held open for you. 'Rough patches. Some time now.' – his words shouldn’t fill you with the excitement they did, and for only a second you wondered if your plan – dumb, now that you truly thought about it – was futile, immature altogether. You’d be a homewrecker, you’d be moving in morally grey area, you’d get yourself into a messy situation which would distract you from music and the band if you let it get to you; though then you watched the teacher exit the classroom behind you, a hand in his pocket to fish out his keys, warm and curious eyes on you as he locked the door – any doubt ceased to exist that very moment and having the man fall for you over the next couple weeks materialised as a plan in your path of thoughts again after you bid goodbye, the pit of your stomach ripe with giddiness as you hurried to the studio; Han would die hearing the news.

☆.☆.☆

When you opened the door to the studio the soft vibrato of an electric guitar filled your senses; right before Lino’s classes start, he hands the key over to Han, to let him use the studio in his free windows while waiting for the rest of you. You knew the stuffy room was Han’s favourite place to be creative in, to use for writing songs and practice whenever the five of you couldn’t get together. You would always be the first to meet him right after your music classes, the others arriving about half an hour later – though today you took longer, so you didn’t have much time to gush about your news.

“Hi! You’re late today. Did Hwang keep you?”

As soon as Han had heard the door open his eyes had searched for your figure, and the sounds of his guitar died into nothingness. He took his instrument off – the worn-out fabric having left a visible red mark on the soft skin of his neck – and plopped down on the sofa positioned in a corner of the room, right beside the set-up of instruments. He chewed on a piece of gum, lounging onto the old brown leather after placing his guitar on its’ standee; he hadn’t yet noticed the buzz you radiated as you closed the door behind you and made home in the dusty studio, throwing your rucksack against the sofa carelessly. Without awaiting an answer from you, Han started talking mindlessly, scrolling through his phone in the process.

“I actually thought we could practise this new song I finished earlier. I could play it for you when everyone’s here and go over it all. It’s not the one I was telling you about befo-“

“Wait, wait, wait, I need to tell you something. Urgent. Don’t need the others to know.”

Your voice cut off his, and Han’s eyes lost the screen of his phone now. He converted them to you, perplexed; finally, he noticed the blush around your cheeks and neck, the mischievous sparkle in your eyes, the smirk on your lips – you had been up to no good. You stood against the backrest of the sofa, watched him sit up a bit to look at you properly. His eyes were curious, his phone gone in his jeans’ pocket again, his brows slightly furrowed; the look in your eyes was almost scary, your hovering body over his own near bone-chilling.

“Do you remember Mr. Bahng.”, your voice was almost trembling, and he thought to see stars in your eyes at the sound of the name, whereas his heart stumbled in its rhythmical beating at it and calmed only seconds later. The tempo had increased though, and he felt the heavy muscle pump against the bones of his rib cage in silent fear of your next words. He looked at you wordlessly, speechless.

“My high school music teacher.” Your face emitted the same excitement and giddiness as it did when you talked of your many celebrity crushes, in anticipation of something Han wasn’t even sure of, nor wanted to know. You must have taken Han’s silence for memory loss, though he surely didn’t need the explanation.

Mr. Bahng; the name couldn’t not ring a bell. Though the both of you had never gone to the same school, there hadn’t been a single Wednesday in which Han hadn’t been victim to your gushing and thirsting over a man almost double your age, and the whining about the unfairness of the situation – if you’d been born just a little later, or Mr. Bahng just a little earlier you would have had a chance to get into his pants, yet you’d been left to only yearn for him from behind your desk, every week anew, a hopeless teen in a bad romance movie. Han did remember your high school music teacher; though he couldn’t make sense of the importance of him now. And he was scared to find out about it.

After his further silence you continued, Han’s face unchanged.

“Hwang is ill, and Mr. Bahng is gonna be my substitute teacher for a couple weeks. He’s so hot actually... I forgot how hot he was.”, excitement in your voice, and suddenly words gushed out of you in a waterfall, “He like- I didn’t expect him to walk in at all and then he suddenly stood there at the desk and he remembered me and he got so much hotter and like- I sat there and I felt like I was in school again but I realised I’m not in school anymore and am way older now so the age difference isn’t that weird anymore, you know?” Han almost hadn’t caught the question, realised too late that you expected him to say something, anything. Wrongly so, because he was still processing your words. You were excited, far too much for his taste, though he wasn’t sure why he despised the anticipation in your voice when you talked about your teacher. And, besides; ‘age difference’? ‘Not weird anymore’? He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to, because he couldn’t find any correlation in your words. When Han didn’t make a sound after a whole twenty seconds, when he kept looking at you with big, questioning eyes and a mouth agape you sucked in your breath, stepped closer to the backrest of the sofa. “Do you know what that means!?”

That sparkle in your eyes again, and Han did, in fact, not know what any of your words meant – still his heart sank, his gut felt as though having taken a punch. He wasn’t expecting anything he’d be excited to hear.

“I can fuck him now.”

The boy choked on his piece of gum, coughing in reaction to your words – his eyes watered, his palm beat against his chest in order to get rid of the sting in his throat, to fill his lungs with proper oxygen again. He hadn’t expected your words; and yet internally, he must have. His body had reacted before you had declared your news; when you had first mentioned your teacher. The name itself sent a set of shivers down Han’s entire body. The absurd confession of wanting – and planning, apparently – to fuck said teacher was even worse. A feeling he couldn’t quite explain found home in his chest, in the pit of his stomach, in the veins pumping right beneath his skin. His hands felt clammy, far too sweaty. What was that reaction? It’s not like he was jealous, he couldn’t be; your words couldn’t make sense to him, though, sounded utterly wrong. Fucking? Your teacher? It wasn’t like you.

“That’s insane. He’s your teacher.”, Han retorted after far too many moments of silence in which you had nothing but stared at him, expectantly. Han reciprocated your gaze with an emotion in his eyes that caused you to furrow your brows; it wasn’t agony, per se, but it was more than worry. It confused you.

“Well, he’s not really. He’s only here for a couple weeks, it doesn’t count.” You made your way over to take a seat next to Han, shoving his legs to the side to make room. He let you, feet flapping off it without resistance, the heaviness of his boots against the wooden floor echoing through the room; the strange expression in his eyes deepened, and it was too intense for you to keep looking.

“That’s still… he’s still a teacher. Like, he’s in a power position, you can’t- you can’t just fuck him. That’s insane.”, Han’s voice was far too agitated for your liking. “And besides, I doubt he’d fuck you. You’re just, like- a student. What’s in there for him except the loss of his job.” He didn’t look you in the eyes while talking – a rip in the old leather sofa was far more interesting to him suddenly, and his teeth nibbled on the silver metal of his piercing. The fingers in his lap fiddled; he was too nervous, too upset and it angered you.

Your head snapped at him; you wouldn’t have expected him to be so against the idea. Maybe you had been dumb, after all. Could Mr. Bahng lose his job? Have you been delusional, too enamoured by his looks you had forgotten over the past five years and influenced by the lack, the drought of any recent intimacy? But then again; Han’s reaction enraged you. It felt like jealousy, far less like the worry you would have understood. And you couldn’t make sense why it did.

“First of all, don’t act all high and mighty when I know you’d happily sleep with like half your current professors if you’d be given the chance – the only thing you ever tell me about class is how good Mrs. Yoo's ass looks in the skirts she’s wearing.”, your voice sounded loud through the room; not truly angry, but defending, maybe. You were too stubborn to admit the stupid plan was all but immature; and you despised that Han wasn’t as excited as you had been. His behaviour ticked you off; it didn’t occur often that the both of you weren’t on the same page about something.

“And besides, maybe Mr. Bahng is horny for me, too. His marriage is shit, as much as I know, so he might- “

“Marriage?! Y/N, don’t tell me you’re serious?” Han’s voice vibrating through the studio made you flinch in your seat, and you looked at him, eyes wide and brows scrunched into one thin line. You knew where he was coming from; but he acted differently altogether. You knew he wouldn’t be in one boat with you about the marriage bit, but you hadn’t imagined him to react this way, throughout the entire conversation; he was jealous, and you had never seen him this way. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, and the irritation over it caused your head to ache.

“Well, I am serious. Just because you can’t get laid doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with someone I’ve had a crush on since forever, now that the opportunity is there. Besides, I haven’t even fucked him yet, so get your head out of your ass.”

Your words were harsh, and you regretted them the moment they had materialised in the stuffy room. The studio tensed, your bodies did; and you stayed silent. You didn’t apologise; your stubbornness wouldn’t let you. Additionally, you didn’t even believe to be in the wrong, not entirely. Sure, you were moving in morally grey areas, and you had hit a sensitive spot within your friend; but you hadn’t lied, and he knew it as much as you did. Yet he only kept looking at you, for two seconds, for six, for ten; with every second you grew more and more bashful under his gaze, with every passing second the words you’d said sunk into his brain, embedded there. Until he truly grasped them a whole of twenty seconds later; the fact you were ready to screw your teacher, the fact you’d thought Han would have been excited about the news, the fact you wouldn’t apologise now or rethink your plan in the several moments he was granting you stabbed a wound into his fastening heart. A wound the motive of which he wasn’t all too sure about, yet it felt deeper than he’d anticipated it to. You stayed silent and he stayed looking at you; until he couldn’t bear holding your gaze anymore.

“I need to go out for a smoke.”

The guitarist got up, almost tripped over the dirty carpet under the sofa as he made his way out of the studio. You were fuming, felt guilty, felt bad; you were 22 years old; how could you still fight with Han as though you were both mere teenagers? How could you continue being so very stubborn, believe with so much conviction to still be in the right?

Han didn’t get the chance to open the door to the studio; before his hand could reach for the door handle Lino walked in with the rest of your bandmates, all chatting and quarrelling about something unknown – and, in your current state, uninteresting – to you, before they all fell silent at the sight of the both of you; Han’s head hung low, the usual excitement when everyone arrived absent, you sitting in the corner on the sofa with crossed arms and a look in your face which nothing but scared the rest. Changbin looked from Han to you and back to Han again while Lino and Jeongin made their way inside – slowly and quietly – to set up their instruments; not without questioning looks in their faces. The tension in the room was tangible, and the silence between the two of you was unusual, so you didn’t blame them for their sudden bashfulness.

“Yo, did you two fight? You look beaten up man.”, Changbin expressed with a palm to Han’s shoulder. You ignored his question, got up from the sofa to set up your guitar. You would get it over with practice, and see Han again tomorrow; everything would be settled by then, as always. You would talk again as though nothing happened, if you only survived today.

“It’s nothing, just need to get out for a smoke.” Han’s voice not convincing and to make matters worse, he shoved Changbin’s hand off, and the elder looked at the others with confusion-written eyes when Han left the studio without another word. All three of them looked at you then, wordlessly; though you continued setting up your instrument, throwing the leather band over your neck, plugging the cable into the AMP before turning it on, and soft vibratos halled through the room as you started tuning your guitar. None of them said a word, neither did you; you didn’t as much as look at them. Maybe you weren’t all that grown-up, far more immature than you believed yourself to be. Maybe the idea with Mr. Bahng was stupid, and Han had been right entirely; and the fight for nothing, inherently. It wouldn’t be the first time your ego was too big for your wrongdoings to be visible to yourself – though, in the heat of the moment and in your anger, you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, so you continued sulking, until Jeongin declared to go out for a smoke as well, and the others agreed to join him; leaving you in the studio by yourself, alone with your thoughts – you were thankful for it, if they’ve left on purpose or not.

Han was in the wrong, you thought. Not that you were entirely in the right, either; but he had overreacted, surely. Mr. Bahng wasn’t really your teacher – he wouldn’t lose his job if he fucked you, not if no one caught you until he was gone again. And that was only a matter of weeks; you weren’t sure how long it would take to persuade him – if it would work at all –, so, for all you cared he could be gone before you caught the chance of getting into his pants. You remembered your previous train of thought, and Han’s words; if there was nothing in there for Mr. Bahng, the situation would dissolve, anyways. Eventually, it was up to him if he’d accept your seducing or not – you would simply open the opportunity, everything else wasn’t in your hands anymore. The marriage was the only thing you felt worse about after having talked to Han. You felt guiltier now, were aware that you shouldn’t pursue a married man; and yet, again, you remembered your thoughts you had brewed on when you’d sat in the classroom. If Mr. Bahng’s relationship was so great and worth working on, he would shut out your attempts. He would pretend not to notice your flirting – however you would you didn’t know yet – or he would shut you off clearly, verbally. You would only offer yourself; the rest would be up to him.

It was your stubbornness, surely, and maybe you should simply sleep over your thoughts for a night, but no matter from which perspective you looked at the situation, you couldn’t truly feel guilty. Or maybe you didn’t want to – whatever the reason was, though, giddiness filled your insides again at the thought of next weeks’ class and the possible start of your attempts; until then Han and you would laugh about your fight, and he’d be as excited as you were.

Outside, Han was puffing blue smoke into the scorching air. Changbin and Jeongin talked of something he didn’t pay attention to, Lino eyed him occasionally, which he didn’t notice; neither of them talked to him after he had shut off the question if he was fine with a voice that led them to understand he wasn’t really, but wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, either. He was thankful they didn’t push him, that they acted indifferent.

It’s not like he was jealous – he was simply being a good friend to you. Who knew what kind of trouble you would find yourself in if you fucked your teacher; surely, he was only being caring, prioritizing your well-being. The stinging pain in his heart when he remembered your excitement he chose to ignore, and the insides of his stomach flipping and squeezing together in agony at your carelessness about his reaction, about the entire situation he couldn’t quite interpret, so he chose to ignore that, too. Because if he thought about it too much, confusion and perplexity formed his entire being; confusion about his own reaction, perplexity about the fact he had expected to be excited with you but couldn’t be, physically. As though something was holding him back from feeling happiness about your own, when it involved another. He was angry, he was irritated with himself; atop all, he hated fighting with you, deeply. You were the one person he shouldn’t fight with, ever, the one anchor in his life. If things were bumpy with you, everything else felt out of balance.

“C’mon, let’s practice.”

Han hadn’t noticed how the others had grinded their cigarettes with the soles of their shoes, and with a pat to his shoulder Changbin entered the studio first, followed by Jeongin, then by Lino; who didn’t go in without a last concerned look at his younger friend who was eyeing the asphalt beneath his feet. Han almost didn’t want to go in, didn’t want to face you – he feared his bodily reactions if he happened to see you, he feared to feel the sting in his heart again, the one he found so hard to understand, to name. He threw his cigarette on the ground, tapped out the burning, orange blaze with the pad of his boot. He would get over with practice; tomorrow you and him would be back to the old same again.

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh @chrizzztopherbang @qtieskz @rylea08 @miss-fallon @sikebishes @h0n3yj4y @lashaemorow

[thelamb1429]

Eyeless Jack Headcanons

Alright I’ve put these off for long enough so here’s some of my headcanons (like always, if yall wanna request anything just let me know, i’ll have more time to get things done this week <3)

Appearance Headcanons —-}

Jack was around 5’10 before he was turned into a demon, but afterwards be ended up growing to 6’11

Because of this, finding clothes to fit him is very difficult with his newfound height

Not only that, but his legs have become digitigrade legs. So normal pants don’t exactly work for him. So he tears off his pants a little below the knees and unfortunately has to walk around barefoot due to his animalistic feet

Speaking of animalistic? He has both a long tail with a tuft of fur at the end and long, furry ears on the side of his head.

His skin is a darker grey, and he has his hair in a protective style when possible (due to his claws he struggles a bit, but if he asks Nina or Jane they usually help him) (also i deeply apologize if the terminology is wrong, let me know and i’ll be sure to change it)

Having his hair up helps with his… activities

Sure, he can’t see, but he’s much more sensitive to texture and can’t focus on hunting down his prey his job if his hair or clothes are in the way of his work

Similar to many others, i headcanon him as having three long, black tongues which can each move separately.

I like to think he got a tongue piercing in college, so one of the tongues is still pierced

I headcanon him as being pretty thin and lanky in addition to his insane height. He probably was a bit on the thinner side in college (because nobody in college can find enough time to eat more than a microwave dinner). I imagine his current diet doesn’t let him pack on a ton of weight either, but he’s fairly athletic regardless

His voice is probably a bit distorted, like a few different voices layered together. Some people think it’s cool, but normally to others it’s off putting

Diet and Behavior —-}

He does not eat kidneys in my headcanons. Biggest reason why is that not only are they a generally unhealthy area to eat from (because they hold waste), they wouldn’t be nutritious for the exact same reason. Instead, he probably eats other organs in the abdominal section

He probably could store his meal and have enough for about five days at a time (if he rations properly). The longest he can safely go without eating is only two weeks, but he’s responsible enough to make sure nobody ever has to deal with that insatiable hunger

Now for behavior/personality!

I think that by becoming a demon he gained many feline traits. Not just the physical ones in terms of appearance, but others too

For example, i think he purrs when he thinks nobody else can hear it. At least whenever he’s purring for a good reason. Cats also purr when stressed, so he probably wouldn’t be able to control that near as much as he can control his happy purring

When he’s cold, his left ear twitches pretty much uncontrollably and it annoys the living hell out of the poor guy

His overall personality is probably still similar to the one he had before the incident. I feel like he’d be reasonably talkative, but i dont think he’s overly social. Just kind of average social battery

He’s definitely more of a thinker than a feeler, and i see him as someone who always has to see to believe

He’s probably very sarcastic, and i feel like his sense of humor is a bit jokingly nihilistic. Like that one “nothing matters!” Pic with the dolphin and the kid giving a thumbs up

General Headcanons —-}

He knows how to play the piano because his mom made him do piano lessons when he was younger. Of course, he can’t see now, so he adapted and learned to play by ear

He navigates the world around him by sensing heat. In a way, he can see in the way you can use a thermal camera. He also prefers to be by people he senses are warmer because he’s naturally cold as hell

He used to wear glasses before the incident. Even though he can’t see now he’ll sometimes put them on out of force of habit. It just feels weird to him to not feel the frames on the bridge of his nose

When he gets startled, his tail fluffs up like a cat’s does

Just for fun let’s say he makes biscuits on his pillows when he goes to bed

—————

Yeah some of these are super half baked and probably seem odd but hey if i come up with any more i’ll share them (i have so many headcanons for so many characters and too little time :/ )

[vivievienne]

The artist who painted my gray heart red — Akitoya

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which Akito is a street artist and Toya is a simple pianist who just by case went to an event and changed his life.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Akitoya, save me, akitoya.

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Might be ooc, fluff, includes anhane, An as a cafe owner, trigger word — Toya's dad, Toya's perspective.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1569.

Is there was something more worthless than composing?

You play the same melody until you got the right notes and it finally starts sounding good, but even after all effort you pull in it, you still feel empty.

Toya Aoyagi feels empty.

He sits by the piano, looking at the paper before him.

No, it doesn't sound right. I need to change it.

And again he started playing the same cadence, but changing one note.

No, it still doesn't feel right.

He hits the keys with his fingers.

They hurt him. He spent a lot of time at playing this melody, and he still doesn't find out what he should do to make it better. 

He was clueless.

He stood up from the bench and took the paper with him.

He puts it in the drawer.

He wasn't satisfied with his work. His father... No, don't even think about him, he thought to himself.

Maybe a walk wouldn't be that bad, huh?

The thought of the coffee in the near cafe was somehow tempting.

But he didn't know one thing then...

That a ginger boy will change his life with this sassy smirk which somehow manages to soften when he was around.

***

Toya leaved his house and walked through the Vivid Street. It was a safe place for street artists and performers, and as well a place where was the best cafe, in his opinion, operated by An Shirashi.

But seeing a graffiti artist was something new to him.

After all, this wasn't any place where you can freely paint, in fact, it was a vandalism. So, it was quite unexpected to see a ginger with spray in his hand, when the Sun wasn't even setting.

Toya doesn't know how to describe the feeling he currently has.

It was something that he hasn't experienced before. He wanted to be the one, who was painting on the wall. Not the one, who stares at this boy. He knew it was illegal, but... why he wanted that? Why he wanted to be him?

"Hey, are you hearing me!?"

Toya heard a nervous voice and he quickly understood that he was staring for too long, so that person noticed.

"Uhm... Yes, sorry for that" he quickly replied with a calm tone, trying to hide his confusion. He looked at the boy before him. He noticed that he has some paint on his clothing and he wore... like three hoodies? It wasn't this cold, in fact, it was quite warm...

"Why are you staring like this?"

"Like what?"

They looked to each other eyes with confusion.

Toya never saw more beautiful eyes than these.

"Like this" the mysterious boy replied with slightly anger in his voice.

"Oh, apologise for that" Toya wasn't sure what he should do now. Maybe he should walk away like nothing happened...

"Do you like this?" The boy asked, pointing out the wall.

Toya wasn't sure what to say about the graffiti. He was looking at him after all... He gave it a simple glance and nodded. "Yes, it's quite interesting"

"Nice."

Oh no... it became awkward...

"You must do it for long time... right?" He tried to save the conversation. This mysterious boy... He felt an urge to keep the conversation.

"Graffiti is easy when you have a proper instructor. I bet you could do it as well. But for me? A few years to master this, I would say"

Wait...

"What do you mean by the first part...?"

"I mean that even someone, who doesn't have an experience in arts, would definitely do a graffiti after some lessons" the ginger seems to be on the edge of rolling his eyes at Toya's misunderstanding.

"Oh, right..." he nodded.

"Anyway, I'm gonna get back to work. Have a nice day or something. I don't know" The ginger says almost carelessly. He turned back to the wall, while Toya was standing like he was about to go blank.

"Oh... Right... Have a nice time working... or something"

He wanted to ask him how he could be this carefree when he literally almost had a heart attack! Just how... God, how good he ended it before he could. It would be more awkward. He immediately goes to An's cafe. The only thing Toya needed now, was a good coffee.

***

"Shirashi..." Toya tried to start the conversation. An looked really stressed today. She usually stayed a bit longer at his table to talk with him, but today... Something definitely happened... "Shirashi", he repeated a bit louder.

"Oh, Toya, right... How can I help you?" she finally answered with smile on her face.

"You seem to be struggling with something" he started slowly. "And I was thinking..."

"Oh, you know", she interrupted. "We will be hosting an event at the cafe soon and I have a lot work to do. There's a lot to do, but it's so little time to do it."

"An event?"

"Oh, right!" An quickly goes to the counter and took a small paper. "Here. Look" she handed it to Toya.

The title says: "Vivid Rad Street Night".

Toya was more and more intrigued.

"You can go to it, y'know?" An smiled. "I bet you'd love that. After all, you're an artist too! You would clearly enjoy the performances. I swear, you won't regret. I also will participate in it with Kohane as a singers! Please Toya, come!!" Shirashi's eyes were shining bright as the stars in her hair. She was really excited to be the host in this.

"I'll think about that, Shirashi" Toya nodded and watched as she left him after a short goodbye, because 'she has a lot on her shoulders and she needs to deal with it as fast as she can'.

He holds in hand the small poster. As he was reading through this, he knew that he should attend this event. Something tells him to. He cannot say what exactly it is, but he believed An that he won't regret coming there.

Also, doesn't it better than staying at home and looking at the wholeheartedly hated piano?

***

And that's why Toya is in the cafe watching how the hosts are beginning the show.

But why that ginger graffiti artist is here too...?

He noticed that his name is Akito Shinonome.

And that he is not just an artist but also a singer.

He was beautiful, when he was singing.

I wish I could be as happy as him when I compose.

"You staring at me, again." Toya was clearly confused when he heard this known voice behind him. "I almost thought that you are interested in me" he snorted.

"Right... I just think you talented, that's all" Toya replied, trying to remain his composure. Still, the last part got him thinking... Is he was interested in him? No, it cannot be that simple. First sight love doesn't exist, and he wasn't interested in boys... But he couldn't remember at all when he was interested in girls either....

"Maybe a little introduction wouldn't hurt, huh?" the ginger asked. "I'm Akito Shinonome. You?"

"I'm Toya... Toya Aoyagi." Akito was as straightforward as he remembered him. How this boy could be this opened?

"I guess you're not a street artist, yet, you still went here" Toya saw the slightly roll of Shinonome's eyes. Is he doesn't really know about any ethical standards?

"I haven't had anything to do... And Shirashi told me that she's hosting an event here..."

"Wait, you know Shirashi?" Toya got interrupted by Akito's quick question.

"Yes, he does. After all I know every musician who lives on Vivid Street" An came with a smile. Behind her Toya saw Kohane, her singing and romantic partner, who was known for her shyness, but also for her adoration towards strange, in Toya's opinion, things. "Hi, Toya! I knew you would come here!"

"Hey, Aoyagi" Azusawa smiled softly and waved at him.

"Oh, Shirashi, Azusawa. You soon should get on the stage, right?" Toya asked.

"We were about to going to backstage, but I saw that you talk with Akito and couldn't help, but come to you to see are you guys getting along" An said with a proud smile. "But as I can see, you get to know each other pretty well, so we won't bother anymore. See ya on the stage!" She said and pulled Kohane towards the backstage with her, leaving Akito and Toya by his own.

"She won't ever change" Akito sighed and rolled his eyes. "But she mentioned that you are a musician, right?"

"Oh, that..." Toya rubbed his back of his neck at this question. He hated to say that he was a pianist and composer. Just like his dad... "I'm a pianist..."

"A pianist, huh? You seem to be a bunch of surprises, don't you?" he snorted and smirked. "Well, that's good to know you're into music. Maybe a singer as well?"

Toya was slightly confused at this question. What this ginger was going to say?

"Actually... I don't even tried" he replied calmly.

"Wanna try then?"

Toya felt that he was hit with a truck.

He asked him about trying?

He doesn't say he have to... He asked him to try.

Try.

"I'll look for a partner" Akito explained. "Singing by your own it's not a big fun. So, would like to try, at least? You have an experience in music, so I suppose that you could fit as one."

He asked him... He asked...

"Of course... I would"

"An, what are you doing?" Kohane asked her, when they went to backstage.

"Can't you see that I am trying to get Akito a boyfriend?"

"I can but... Isn't he is able to do it by his own?"

"Treat is as a little help to love."

"And what if they won't fall for each other?"

"Can't you see how Toya looks at him? He definitely fell in love with him, even if he didn't realise it yet."

"But what about Akito?"

"Fell later, fell harder. Remember this, Kohane."

[deanoheartspie]

SUNSHINE 6

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x female City Gal Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

A/n: Hello! I've been slowly going back and fixing up my past chapters ( still editing and such but ofc it'll take time! So beware of all of that!) ALSO CLOSED MESSAGES I've gotten a crap load of bots spamming my inbox so if ya need me send me an ask and I'll get to you!

Edited?: fixing up

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

DEAN'S POV

~Weeks went by and surprisingly enough I became more close to Y/n, we have a somewhat friendship now.

I sat in the stands alongside Rory and Lisa, watching Ben during his baseball game. I had invited Y/n but in all honesty, I didn't think she'd show... Yet she did, she hadn't met Ben yet but here she was making her way to sit near me.

She wore a beautiful sundress... That showed off her curves and god her smile... Maybe I had been staring too long but Lisa smacked my arm pulling me back to reality.

"So which one is the little guy?" Y/n asked looking at all the boys on the team as they sat out. I pointed to the little boy who had spikey hair... Even though the kid wasn't biologically mine I still took care of him as one of mine own since he didn't have a father.

Rory shyly walked towards the woman and sat between her and me, holding each of our hands. That caused Lisa to give me the 'You better fix this' type of look. "Rory baby... Momma wants you to sit with her you don't want her to be lonely right?" I asked the little girl scooping her up, she frowned shaking her head before hesitantly sitting with Lisa.

I felt bad. Of course, I did. The last thing I needed was for Lisa to go off on me later.

Y/n searched my eyes, giving me a reassuring smile and hand squeeze before tugging her hand away, without a care in the world I held her hand tighter not wanting the warmth of her hand to leave. I noticed the way she blushed and looked off at the field.

"Woohoo! Go Bears" She shouted standing up, I snorted gently pulling her down "Sweetheart... Wrong team" Her face grew redder, clearly embarrassed.

"S'okay. I'm sure they appreciate your support" I teased wrapping an arm around her waist, kissing the top of her head.

Why was I being so... Touchy-feely? What is going on with me? Goddamn Y/n what have you done to me.

-------

"Dad, did you see me? The practices after school helped more! I hit the ball farther" Ben stated throwing his fists up into the air, smiling happily.

"Yea-" I was immediately cut off by no other then Lisa.

"What do you mean after school? You have piano after school?" Lisa looked Ben and I up in down, trying to see who'd crack first.

"We mean after Piano practice" I lie, during the years I've seen how miserable the poor kid was, the moment Lisa found out he had some musical talent she forced piano, and voice lessons down his throat. So when Ben came to me, a year ago saying he wanted to try baseball, how could I deny him something he wanted? Lisa and I came to an agreement that he stay in piano, but... Ben would flash off those adorable puppy dog eyes each time and I always found myself driving right past the studio.

"Hmph good." Lisa huffed and sighed, gathering the kid's things which I helped put in her trunk.

-------

When I arrived back at the ranch, Y/n was already waiting there with a small smile. If I'm being serious, my mind kept going back to the day she said she was a runaway bride. It didn't bother me, it just made me a little worried.

"How the hell did you beat me here?" I mutter taking off my baseball cap and walking up onto the old porch that's going to need to be repaired sooner then later.

"Because I've seen fast in furious"

I quirk a brow and walk past her, "Sure sweetheart. Let me guess you got lost and went the muddy route?" I state seeing the mud on her tires proving that I have solid evidence.

"Yeah... Yeah, I got lost! I can see why no one takes the quick route... It's sorta scary"

We both walk in tossing our boots off, I nod and smile a little "Thanks for coming to the game...even though you cheered for the other team twice" I playfully smirk and walk over to the kitchen making us some sandwiches.

"Anytime, I surprisingly had a good time. I've never seen baseball before but it was cool to see the boys get happy whenever they hit the ball." She softly smiled and turned around raiding the kitchen for whatever she must be looking for.

I learned very quickly not to ask what she's looking for, even if it's to tell her that it's right in her face. Especially at night when she's raiding the fridge, with her messy hair she looks like a raccoon which I also learned not to call her that when she's half asleep.

She pulled out some leftover chocolate cake from last night, hell fuckin yeah.

"Are you gonna' share that?"

She holds the container closer to her chest "Nope."

"Oh, c'mon! I made you a sandwich, it's only fair" I try my best to mock the kids' pouts since they always seemed to work.

"Fine fine, one slice only because you ate all the pie yesterday"

"I asked you if you wanted some" I muttered, going off to the back porch and setting down our plates, this became our ritual. We'd eat and talk, every damn day we did this. I didn't mind it on bit.

"After the fact that you were almost done with it" She followed behind with the two slices of chocolate cake, she sat down her hair flowing in the wind.

"I still offered" I argued with a small smile digging into the piece of cake first before taking a bite of my sandwich.

I looked at the view in front of me, and god I loved it. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else, the way the birds chirped and how the flowers looked in the field. Beautiful, this time though. My eyes weren't on the field they were on her

"Hm, back to our subject from yesterday." She whips out a clipboard from under the chair, she was trying to be funny as she showed me her fake 'file' she made of me with all the things I like, etc.

"Would you ever leave?"

That question caught my attention.

"What do you mean? Leave the ranch?"

Y/n shook her head “I mean leaving this town. It never gets boring?”

I've never actually given it much thought before. Living here all my life, what was the point of leaving a place that you have it easy in?

"Nope. I did go to New York once. Never again, way too many people for my liking, I also got my younger brother around here so I don't plan on being far from him and his little family."

New York was a shit show, way too many people with attitudes, and too crowded. In my opinion, it was like hell. Though did have cheap hotdogs which were a nice plus and some of the views, besides that, it all was way too expensive and not worth it.

"Would you ever move back...?" I question, wondering how long she was planning on staying.

She stayed quiet, fiddling with the ends of her sundress as she kept her head down low.

We sat in total silence until she spoke.

"Maybe. It has been my home... But I like it here too so it's a little confusing." she admits running her fingers through her hair.

"So as of right now your staying?" I look at her, I feel those god forsaken butterflies in my stomach.

"Yes sheriff you don't have to worry about me up and leaving without two weeks' notice" she teased bumping her shoulder with mind, she smiled.

The way she smiled always made me melt... I liked seeing it. Seeing her happy. Without a thought second I blurt out "Will you go on a date with me? As friends...or y'know?" The moment I realized what I had said it was too late to take it back and didn't want to seem like a jackass for taking it back anyways.

I saw her thinking with a faint blush on her face, maybe she was thinking how to let me down slowly so it wouldn't be awkward.

Y/n lifted her head up and nodded "I'd like that Dean."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

----Tag list----

@deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @mrsjenniferwinchester @ladysparkles78 @hobby27 @khaleesihavilliard @foxyjwls007 @lucidlivi @jc-winchester @globetrotter28 @beskarfilms @the141bandicoot @alysinwonderland-at-tea @randomgurl2326 @ambergoddess444 @westernwinchesters @lemmons1998 @julie04090 @nic-kolas @raisinggray @alternativeprincess94

[anistarrose]

okay serious inquiries now, i wanna hear about the adopted ango fic and freak4freak4freak4freak 👀

(WIP meme here, still taking asks!)

thank you once again, fex! I feel like I've mentioned the Lucretia adopts Angus fic to you before, it's the one where she raises him on the Bureau and he even gets to have an ambiguously evil Red Robe uncle (who is allowed to give him piano lessons, because Lucretia is a total softie).

more relevant to the only writing I've completed, though, is the way THB meet Angus on the Bureau, and Angus actually sneaks off to get on the Rockport Limited with them once he hears there's a murder mystery in play. Lucretia obviously panics about this, because she does not want her son getting anywhere near a Relic — and this Angus & Taako scene is dealing with the fallout. the writing's old and there's stuff I'd change but the skeleton of it holds up, IMO. bit of outsider-looking-in on Ango and Lucretia's relationship:

Taako raps on the door to Angus’s room, trying not to sound neither too threatening nor too invested. “Hey, it’s, uh — it’s cha boy. Taako. Can I… come in?” “Whatever,” Angus sniffs, which is…  Well, Taako hasn’t known Angus for long, but that doesn’t sound at all like the polite, oddly mature little pipsqueak Taako’s gotten so used to seeing around the Bureau. He really is upset. Shit.  Taako wishes he could just send in the big armored teddy bear instead, ‘cause Magnus might comfort the kid with some actual success — but of course, Taako had to be the only one loitering to hear two distinct voices being raised in the Director’s office. To see Angus bolting out of a debriefing with his actual mom, covering his face with his hat and making a mad dash for his bedroom across the quad. Angus clearly loves his mom, and the Director clearly loves her kid. Taako never got any bad vibes from either — just vibes of a weird kid, in the care a parent with a weird enough job, that things cancelled out and everyone’s weird, weird needs got met. In a way he’d never admit, it actually made Taako kind of jealous. But Angus is upset, probably shedding tears, over the debriefing-turned-argument that Taako didn’t mean to overhear — So he opens the door, and steps into Angus’s room.

Angus has trauma and it's causing him to catastrophize about the argument, worrying his Mom will send him off the Bureau to keep him safe and he'll lose the only family he has. so Taako kind of clumsily, uncomfortably, tries to reassure Angus — that because "the Director" cared enough to adopt him, she would never throw him out for nothing.

but then... Angus spills the beans. the Director has "a brother" who definitely isn't bio-related to her, but the adopted nature of their family doesn't keep them from having an extremely terse relationship that they only even keep that civil for Angus's sake. so Angus is very scared that if two people he thinks are good people could have chosen to be family once, but then turn out Like That, then who's to say the same won't happen to him?

obviously, Taako isn't even getting the "evil Red Robe" piece of information in the story — but even so, he just has no idea of how to respond to that.

*

also, freaky found family! that was the one I was actually writing most actively before work picked up, but you can expect me to finish it as soon as I'm unemployed again if not sooner lmao. it's BLT Trio plus Kravitz (or Reaper Squad plus Taako, if you prefer) hurt/comfort and cuddling, but it starts out with house hunting fluff:

Kravitz sniffs the air, in the direction of the charred crater in the wall. “Is it just me, or is there, like… a smell coming from the Hole? I mean, we agreed the house is probably on the market because of the Hole —” “Yeah, oh, completely. But the — the Hunger smell? Dav figured out a couple days back that baking soda can handle it.” Barry puts his hand on his hip, shaking his head and smiling. “Never had to figure that one out before, the way things were, but — but good ol’ sodium bicarb, turns out that does the trick —” “Oh, good,” Kravitz says. “I have lots of that on hand to deal with zombies.” “Ah, mix it into your salt circles, right?” “Obviously. I like a three-to-one ratio. Does the job, and cost-effective.” “Man, they should — uh, they should pay you to go on baking soda commercials.” “I’ll keep that in mind, Barry.”

[melanieph321]

Pedri x Black Reader - Our Secret Part 9/10

The end is near 😫

The story of Marcella and Pedri. As students of the most prestigious high schools in the country, the two are very focused on developimg their indvidual talents. Marcella has music whilst Pedri has football. However, worlds collide when Pedri's secret is revealed, he has diabetes.

Enjoy!

"Mi queridaaa!!!"

He could not escape it. Everywhere he went someone was playing it on a loop, a video of Pedri, half naked, singing in front of his bathroom mirror.

"Mi corazoooon!!!!" They teased, his own teammates. "I mean your voice is really good Gonzalez, but why the pink underwear?" They laughed. And laughed. To a point where Pedri wanted to bury his head below the football pitch just to smother the noise.

"How could she do this to me?" He groaned. They were in the locker room, preparing for the last training session before Saturday's game. Pedri however, found no way to get his head in the right place, having a slight mental breakdown.

"Are you sure it was Marcella who spread it?" Pablo asked, not as amused by the video as his teammates were.

"Who else?" Pedri said, running a hand down his annoyed face. "The video is a screen recording of a facetime call that Marcella and I had a couple of weeks ago. I had no idea that she was filming me." He was embarrassed, and angry for being embarrassed.

"M...maybe you should find her. Talk to her, you know?"

"Oh, I'll find her." Pedri assured.

Marcella was in the middle of rehearsals when Pedri stromed into the auditorium, face flushed red.

"Gonzalez, to why do I owe the pleasure?" Señor Garcia did not seem bothered by Pedri's sudden interruption of his lesson. The girls on the other hand....

"I came to talk to Marcella." He said.

"Pedri?" She frowned. "What's going on?"

"You tell me. You're the one who's been spreading that video of me singing your song."

"I..."

She was interrupted by her friends as they struggled to restrain their giggles. "Mi queridaaa." They teased.

"Ladies." Señor Garcia shut them up with a stern look.

"Pedri I'm sorry." Marcella stepped forward. "I don't know how...."

"It doesn't matter how. Why would you record our private conversations?"

"I..." She stuttered. "I thought it was adorable and just wanted to keep the video as a memory. I've must have forwarded it to someone accidentally, but it's not a big deal Pedri, you sounded really good."

"Marcella, who cares how I sounded, I was half naked in that video. Everyone in school has seen it, everyone in town. "

Her friends laughed, louder this time. Marcella ignored them and only looked to Pedri. "Look I really am sorry, but who cares what everyone in school thinks, why do you care so much about what everybody thinks of you Pedri?"

His eyes widened, a bit stunned. Her words cut deep, perhaps because they were true.

"I mean you really shouldn't care." She mumbled

His eyes squinted. "You've told people, haven't you?"

"Told people what?"

"You know what!" He snapped.

"Gonzalez." Señor Garcia rose from the piano, indicating that Pedri should calm down. But how could he be calm? His girlfriend had betrayed him in every kind of way. He looked to Marcella, nothing but ill will in his eyes. "I'm sorry but you and me....it's not working"

"Pedri?"

Marcella's friends gasped.

"Gonzalez?" Even señor Garcia seemed taken aback.

Pedri ignored them all, and couldn't careless as he stomped out of the auditorium.

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

"So, you broke up with her. Just like that?" Pablo appeard confused. It was odd having him back in the passengers seat as they rode home in Pedri's car.

"She betrayed me."

"By leaking the video?"

"That and telling everyone my secret."

"Which is?"

Pedri turned to his friend, not sure why Pablo appeared to suddenly question him.

"She told people that I like to sing, okay. No one was supposed to know that about me.

"Man." Pablo gestured dismissively with his hand. "That's no secret, everybody knows that. For as long as I've known you you've been going off in the locker room showers after every training." He laughed. "Even coach knows that you've got good pipes. What's this really about Pedri?"

He was onto him. Why was everyone suddenly ready to interrogate him?

"I get it." Pablo nodded.

"You do?"

"Yeah, you're nervous."

"I am?"

"Yes, about the game on Saturday. Now that you've got teams like Sevilla scouting you, you're anxious about your performance on the pitch."

"Right..."

"I say don't worry about it." He shrugged. "Play like you always do."

"Like I always do?"

Perhaps it was the game that was getting to him. There were more scouts coming,  coach told Pedri this after the days training. It was other big clubs, clubs that also may be interested in fulfillung Pedri's life long dream of becoming a professinal football player. Everything had to be perfect.

"Maybe you shouldn't have dumped her..." Pablo mumbled as he gazed out of open car window, the wind stirring his hair.

"Marcella?" Pedri muttered, a jab of guilt as he realized what he had done.

"I mean, she was annoying." Pablo second.  "And I stand by believing that she has symptoms for insanity, however...." He had difficulty getting the words out, as if it was causing him pain to say them out loud. "She did seem to make you happy, no?"

Pedri sighed, his skull knocking back against the headrest. "Puta."

Saturday came around and only then did Pedri understand the weight that was on his shoulders. There were  alot of people cheering for him, more than usual. Coach had him shaking several hands before kick off. It was mostly former Estudios Filántropos players who wanted to congratulate him on his success. Even Pedri's family was in the crowd, his parents and Fernando. They were all cheering for him, but where was Marcella?

"Pass the ball Pedri, what's the matter with you?"

His head snapped back into the game. Neither of the teams had scored, making the players and coaches desperate as they played well into the second half. Pedri had the ball at his feet, expecting to pass it to Pablo who was clear of all of the opposite teams defenders. However, Pedri fumbled, failing to make the assist. His head kept shifting towards the right, then the left, searching the crowd, searching the crowd for her.

"Gonzalez!" His coach called out from the sidelines. He gestured that Pedri's time on the pitch was up, that he should make the switch.

"No." Pedri protested. Controversial to the crowd as he refused to step off when told to.

"Gonzalez!"

"No!" He shouted. He was feeling great. They were well into the second half and he could neither feel or was suffering from any kind of fatigue. His insulin levels had been stable ever since he started taking the right amount of shots. It was really thanks to her that he was able to play for this long. "Where are you Marcella?" His eyes continued to search the crowd, desperate to find her, to know that she came for him, because if she did there was a chance that she could forgive him for his mistake.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

The game was slowing down all of a sudden. Pedri's mind getting clouded. Pablo who ran beside him had noticed this, uttering his concerns.

"No." Pedri groaned as it all hit him at once, the chest pain, along with the shivers and cramping of his muscles. He was having a seizure.

"Hey, stay with me! Stay with me....."

Pedri's body hit the ground as he fell back. The screams of his friend was the last thing he remebers, as well as the beating of his heart. It was slowing down.

"For fuck sakes Pedri, don't do this to me!"

He wanted to laugh, laugh at the distress that he was causing his friend. Pablo had tears in his eyes. "Stay with me. Come on Pedri, stay with me." He was his best friend and a true Filántropos. Pedri should start calling him for who he was. He was Gavi now.

"Gavi?"

"Yes?"

Pedri's voice was so faint. His mouth had began to dry. "Tell Marcella...."

"Yes?"

"Tell Marcella...."

He wanted to tell her so many things. So many things. Unfortunately, with that thought, things went dark for him. No time to make things right. No time left to regret.

[mrchiipchrome]

I hate people who say ‘swearing doesn’t make you cooler it just makes you sound immature’ like bitch I don’t do it for you or to sound cool I do it bc I need to express myself in the way I fucking feel like. Do you expect me to say ‘holy moly I had a really bad lesson’??? Like ffs if I wanna tell my teacher that the lesson went like fucking shit then I should be able to without fucking criticism, I literally don’t even do it for anyone except myself so you can shut your fat ass up and keep failing everything you fucking piece of shit pick me ‘I’m so much better than everyone else because I don’t swear’ ass bitch. Like we’re not even friends so how can you fucking dare try to tell me what to do, unprovoked and unprompted, I don’t tell you to stop being so fucking stupid and yet you are, fucking no ass, no friends, no nothing ass person trying to make me be like her loser ass self like shut the fuck up and disappear not like you’d be missed by anyone you fucking worthless piece of human garbage. Instead of trying to tell me to check my language, try checking the door before you walk in the room you Oompa Loompa, 10000 kg, no sense of style, looking like you got dressed in the dark, paler than a fucking vampire, failure, no one likes you, no bitches, no future ass bitch. She honestly needs to check her superiority complex because she’s truly more pathetic than me trying to find a gf, I swear even if she was the last woman in the world not a single person would hit, looking like an iguana mixed with a trash can and lighter fluid, she looks like the melted version of wheelchair Barbie only if wheelchair Barbie was plus size Barbie, no eyebrows ass bitch, no eyelashes ass bitch, caca eyes ass bitch, shit stained face ass bitch, skid mark ass bitch, looking like her name is skidmore muncy, cankles having ass bitch. When I say that your standards would have to be in Dante’s 8th circle of hell to even look her way I am not fucking lying, her wannabe goody two shoes ass persona is so fucking annoying I swear it makes me want to rip my ears and eyes out the second I hear and see her, and don’t even get me started on her fucking voice that sounds like a giraffes shit hitting your head whilst someone plays an out of tune piano and drags their nails over a chalkboard. Her entire being is like a a cancerous cell, I swear that she’s a failed fucking abortion because there is genuinely no way anyone would willingly give birth to that creature, someone had to have a gun to her mothers head all throughout labour to keep her pushing bc that child would never be born otherwise. I swear I couldn’t be paid to be that annoying ass bitches friend, it would make me even more suicidal than just hearing her from afar would. And she pretends that she’s so good just because she listens to girl in red like fucking congratulations you’re like 90 fucking percent of lesbians, no one cares about your fucking ass music taste because you’re not important, the world doesn’t stop spinning just because you’re listening to some stereotypical artist. I swear she’s like the hitler of the school, you always have to be so fucking politically correct when you’re even near her bc otherwise she’ll start her fucking crying again like shut the fuck up and get a personality. Literally the plain boiled chicken breast of the school, she doesn’t even realize that no one likes her, and that people are only remotely nice to her because they feel bad that she has the personality of a piece of coal, she’s more boring than the word boring. She’s a pimple on the day you take the school pictures, she’s an air bubble in your veins, she’s that fucking annoying ass hoe you never want to see but always do, she’s the paper McDonald’s toys, she’s a hole in the bottom of your shoe on a rainy day, she’s the ball that hits you in the face in PE, she’s everything i strive not to be both looks wise and personality wise because if I end up like her I would legit kill myself.

[blueraineshadows]

Midnight Melody Part 2

Please read Part 1. GN!MC x Ominis Gaunt: deep feels and fluff, jealous Ominis, and a first kiss.

In the 2 weeks that MC had spent sneaking out to the common room to sit with Ominis whilst he played piano, they had come to decide that they liked his company very much indeed. How easy it had become to sit on the bench next to him, the touch of thigh now a welcome comfort. How charmed they had become to hold conversation with him, learning that they shared a love for the same books and music. There was a tranquility to be found in his company, and it was becoming a delight to their heart. Missed sleep was no longer an anguish, not when it was for a pleasant reason.

During the day, through lessons and shared school activities, their talk was kept to the minimum, mostly about the work in shared classes. At dinner, MC sat near Ominis, but most of the time was held in conversation with Sebastian. Any chance to talk about a shared passion kept for the later hour in the quiet of the common room. But this was alright, in fact it was more than alright, it made the time more personal, special.

MC was sitting up in bed reading, waiting for the others in their room to drift off to sleep, a book spread on their lap. Eventually the steady sounds of sleep filled the room, and despite themselves, MC felt a little sleepy too. But, the pull of time spent with Ominis won out, and they slipped from the dormitory in slippers and a robe over their pyjamas.

There were no soft melodies coming from the piano this night. Instead, Ominis was seated in a wing back chair by the fire. He lifted his head up as MC approached, his face clearing from his deep thoughts. "You came," he said.

"Of course," MC said. "Did you think that I wouldn't?"

"You told Sebastian that you were tired at dinner, I assumed you would remain in your bed tonight."

"I was too tired for what Sebastian was proposing. I did not feel like a late night adventure tonight," MC said. "This is much more acceptable."

Ominis nodded slowly, his face turned towards the warmth radiating from the fire in the hearth. He seemed distracted, his face serious and missing the spark of dry humour usually present.

"Is everything alright, Ominis? You seem troubled."

Ominis turned his face their way, his eyes moving a little as if seeking them out. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course, anything," MC replied.

Ominis hesitated, pressing the fingertips of both hands together. He gave a little sigh. "Would it interest you to learn that Sebastian finds you physically appealing?"

MC felt their jaw drop, their mouth forming an 'O' of surprise. They had not been expecting that at all! A fierce blush spread across their cheeks and they were thankful that Ominis could not see it. "He does?" MC's voice came out a little strangled as they tried to digest this information. "I...I had no idea! Did he tell you this?"

Ominis scowled a little, his mouth almost a pout. "It pleases you then, to know this?"

"Well, I suppose anyone would feel flattered to learn such a thing," MC said. "I had not thought Sebastian would feel that way about me though. I wouldn't have thought I was his type."

"Why ever not?"

MC shrugged. "I imagine Sebastian being with someone far more beautiful, more cultured perhaps, rather than myself with my boring, muggle upbringing."

"Do not put yourself down like that," Ominis said. His voice was low but held that commanding tone that always made MC tremble a little. "I have heard idle chit chat amongst our peers, being without my sight I do tend to listen more than most, and it is clear that your physical attributes are definitely appealing to one's eye. My lack of sight leaves me at a considerable disadvantage I fear, for I am unable to form an opinion of my own on the matter. But what I will say, is that physical beauty aside, I find you to be a most pleasant and appealing person to spend time with, and that counts for a lot in my book."

Ominis sat back in his chair, breathing a little faster after his impassioned speech, and his hands gripped the arms of the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white. MC swallowed thickly, overcome with many emotions at those words. As they said, it was always nice to hear that one's physical appearance was appealing, but the praise that had tumbled from their new friend's lips had brought a rather pleasing flush of warmth to spread through their body. To know that Ominis prized their company as much as they did was beyond a delight. He was right, that was something to be highly treasured, but still, MC felt the pain of him not knowing what they looked like. It was a disadvantage in some ways because as MC allowed their gaze to travel over him, noting the delicate curve of his mouth, the fine bone structure of his cheeks and hands, they knew it would be a terrible shame to not be able to appreciate such handsome features.

Moved to ease the obvious upset on Ominis' face, MC settled onto their knees before his chair and placed a hesitant hand over his. Ominis tensed immediately at the contact and MC paused. "Forgive me," they murmured. "May I touch you?"

"Why?" He sounded suspicious.

"Its alright," MC soothed. "I did not mean to startle you. I just wish to allow you a chance to see me. It grieves me to learn it upsets you. I do not like the thought of you being upset. Let me try something, please?"

Ominis remained hesitant but he gave a small nod. "Very well."

MC raised up onto their knees and shuffled a little closer before taking up Ominis' hand into their own. MC could feel the tremble of nerves in their hand as they guided his to their face. "You said that you rely on your other senses to aid you when navigating the world," MC said. They placed his hand against their cheek, his fingers cool against their flushed skin. "Please, feel free to use touch to see me, trace the lines of my face so that you may have some idea of what others get to see."

Ominis trained his gaze on their face in that eerie way he had of looking but not seeing. His lips parted in surprise and MC thought that his breathing had notched up a gear. "You would really allow me to do this?" His voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, do," MC said, equally as soft.

Ominis sat forward and brought his other hand up to MC's face. Finger tips swept smoothly over their cheeks, tracing the shape of cheekbone and jaw, drawing upwards to slide across the brow and down the bridge of their nose. His index finger slid down over the tip of their nose and into the dip above their top lip. MC swallowed, a tingly fire seeming to wake and kiss their skin as Ominis traced the curve of their lips. A flush spread across his cheeks as MC's lips flexed under his touch, almost as though to kiss the tips of his fingers.

His touch was gentle and sensitive, not intrusive at all, and yet there was an intimacy to it. MC found that they craved more of it and felt bereft when Ominis finally drew his hands back. "Well? What is your verdict?" MC could hear the husky nature of their own voice and resisted the urge to clear their throat.

"I want to thank you for your trust in allowing me to touch you like that," he said. "And while I am no expert, it is as they say, you are exquisite."

MC drew in a shaky breath, their heart bursting with a joy that they had never known before. Without thinking, they clasped his hands in their own. "Oh Ominis, thank you," they said. Hot tears stung the backs of their eyes. "And please, allow me to return such courtesy by confessing that to me you are, by far, the most attractive person I have had the fortune to spend time with. You bring me so much joy, such pleasure at a time when life has been terribly difficult. Of course, Sebastian has been invaluable with his support, and I am flattered by his praise of me. But it pales next to the honour your own words bestow on me. You have no idea how much I value our time together, and you must forgive this emotional outburst from me. I fear that I have become rather emotional."

"MC," he breathed. His hands held theirs in a firm grip. "I too value our time together. And there is nothing to forgive. You...you move me."

MC did not think that a heart could pound so hard and continue to survive, and yet theirs was doing a fine job of it indeed. "Ominis," they said, moving ever closer towards him. They pulled a hand free and reached up to cup his face. Ominis closed his eyes at the gentle touch. "You have moved me too, so much so that...I...I am rather overcome with a need to kiss you. Would that be acceptable to you?"

A smile graced his lips and he drew MC so close that they were now pressed up against the chair, their face inches from his as he leaned towards them. "More than acceptable," he said. "In fact, I must insist on it."

A first kiss is always one that means so much to one who saves it for someone deserving of it. MC had never dreamed of this moment being as special as it was. This strange, magical world had thrown so many delights in their path, so much to inspire awe and wonder. But it all paled in comparison to the touch of his lips against theirs. The delicate touch, the warmth, the sheer intimacy of lips against lips awoke a hunger inside MC that they had never known existed. Lips that shared thoughts and dreams, lips that could smile and coax laughter were now sharing a unique tenderness and desire that brought tears to MC's eyes.

When finally the kiss ended, MC felt the press of his forehead against theirs, but they kept their eyes closed, savouring the moment. Hands clung on to each other, needing the contact to keep them grounded.

"I feel like I could never stop now that I have started," Ominis whispered. "I cannot tell you how glad I am that you came to Hogwarts."

"Then let us never stop," MC declared. "With you I feel like I will never feel lonely again. My heart is yours should you wish it, and my price is to have your kiss whenever I desire it."

"I do wish it and accept it gladly, and as for my kiss, you may have as many as you need, starting as of now."

As their lips met again, MC felt a tear slide from their eye, their hands moving to hold Ominis as close to their heart as possible. Where he belonged.

[aislynn-wiley1999]

The Duet

After her house loses a Quidditch match, Aislynn finds herself drawn to the Undercroft with promise of silence. Instead she finds Ominis, who has transfigured a piano.

A/N: Light angst and fluff. No heavy romance, but two people who can’t bring themselves to admit feelings.

Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter 7 of “Three Headed Serpent”, full fic found on AO3 here!

Slytherin’s were notorious for being sore losers and haughty winners. So when the first Quidditch game of the term saw the victory go to Ravenclaw and not them, the Slytherin student body sulked. Massively. Most of the older students, including Sebastian, headed off to Hogsmeade to drink away the shame they had. I had never known Sebastian to be a very humble person, so it was no surprise that he took the loss especially hard as the team’s keeper.

I had no desire to watch him, Imelda, and the other team members make fools of themselves in Hogsmeade, so I decided that my time was better spent doing some reading. Mind you, not reading for school. I had recently fallen into the trap of Jane Austen, and I needed to know if Mr. Darcy and Lizzie reconciled after his failed proposal. The common room was not an option, as those who could not go out and drink in public tended to mope about the common room and drink whatever shit brew they could find.

As I approach the entrance to the Undercroft, I thank my brain once again for not allowing me the courage to try out for Quidditch. I am not the least bit athletic and have no desire to be dodging and chasing things.

I creep into the dark room, but stop dead in my tracks when I register the noise. Except, ‘noise’ may be a cruel word for what I hear right now. The soft melody of a piano floats up through the room. Venturing further, I see the piano and its musician in a dark corner of the room, illuminated only by a few small candles.

Ominis is seated, his eyes closed in total concentration, playing the familiar melody with ease. The sight and sound merge into one of the most beautiful things I have ever beheld in my time at Hogwarts, and I am not eager to give myself away before he finishes. He looks angelic, like a being I have never before seen. The focus on his face is evident as he squeezes his eyes shut, playing the haunting tune.

I am mesmerized. I feel as though I have never heard music before hearing him play today, and like the music I will hear in future will not compare. His slender fingers move gracefully as he plays the last few bars. I watch as his hands pause on the keys before slowly lifting them away, sighing with triumph at his playing.

“That was beautiful,” I say. Perhaps beautiful was too plain a word for what it was. It’s clear that I have startled him with my words, as his head turns abruptly in the direction of my voice. I watch him for a moment, as he pants and drops his hands into his lap.

“I didn’t know you were down here,” he stammers out, as if he was disturbing me. “I can stop, if you plan on doing work.” The tips of his ears turn pink, made even more obvious by the candle light that flickered near him. I shake my head, before actually speaking.

“Ominis, it was beautiful. I- I don’t even know how else to describe the way it was.”

A small smile dances on his lips. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites. The piece, I mean. It’s by-”

“Chopin,” we say at the same time, causing his smile to widen. “Do you play?” he asked me.

Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I suppress a laugh. “Barely. Not since coming to Hogwarts, at least. I only really remember some of the etudes that were drilled into me during lessons.”

He scoots over on the piano bench. “Show me,” he says, more of a command than a suggestion. This time I let out a laugh. “Prepare to be utterly disappointed,” I say, grinning.

He shakes his head, still wearing a smile. “I promise, I will not be.”

I sit next to him on the bench, our legs touching and our shoulders pressing together. My mind races on what I should play, having not touched the keys for almost two years at this point. Settling on a Bach etude that I remember somewhat from my adolescence, I place my fingers on the keys.

This time it is noise that comes out of the piano. The etude is not one I have entirely memorized, and I have to pause a few times. In addition, wrong notes sour the melody and I can’t seem to decide if I want to play fast or slow. Thankfully the piece is short, and I find myself playing the last chord with a sense of relief.

I glance over, studying his face. He is wearing a crooked smile, perhaps trying to hide laughter. “Lovely,” he says, almost breathily.

I snort, releasing a giggle. “You are a horrible liar,” I tell him, leaning against him with my shoulder. “Don’t speak to me with poetry, I know that I am a horrendous piano player.” Another thought comes into mind, causing me to laugh. “Have you read Pride and Prejudice?”

Ominis shakes his head. “I feel awfully similar to Lizzie Bennet at this moment, she also can’t play the piano. In the book, she makes a fool of herself doing so in front of the man that is in love with her. I haven’t finished it yet, but I am certain that they will marry. We should try to find you a braille copy!” I say, laughing.

He doesn’t say anything back, and I look over expectantly. Ominis’ cheeks are a bright pink, as if I have said something to embarrass him. “Are you okay?” I ask him.

He nods, but doesn’t say anything just yet. I absentmindedly tap a few keys on the piano before thinking out loud. “I wish that my hands moved like yours on the piano.”

This causes him to speak. “Really, you were not bad at playing. I quite enjoyed it, you should play the next time all three of us are down here,” he says, kindly. He seems to think for a moment, unsure of if he should speak.

“Do you want to try something?” he asks, turning towards me a bit. My eyebrows raise slightly. “Ominis, I don’t think I have it in me to play a duet with you,” I say sheepishly. This earns a genuine laugh from him as he shakes his head. Standing up, he steps behind me on the bench before reaching his arms on either side of me to touch the keys.

“Put your hands on top of mine,” he tells me.

My hands obey his command, tentatively resting on top of his. His skin is soft and cold, his fingers long and graceful in comparison to mine, yet my hands feel on fire as they sit on his.

Ominis slowly starts to move his fingers on the keys, my hand mimicking his. He plays the same melody as before, albeit much slower. The room fills with nothing but music and the sound of our breathing, our breath almost in sync with each other. The piece is tragic and soft, and this moment feels far more intimate than anything else in my memory. His fingers are gentle, commanding perfection from the instrument.

When the piece finishes, we don’t move our hands away. I can feel his breath on the back of my head, how quick it is.

“I was right about you and your lovely playing,” he whispers into one of my ears. His voice sends a chill down my spine, and I instinctively lean back slightly into him.

“You really are a horrible liar,” I say back, my voice a low whisper. The room feels too silent now, just our breathing and the creak of the bench. He doesn’t respond, standing still against me. I notice that he has stayed stationary, despite being pressed against me. My mind races from this small contact, from the contact our hands still have. It frightens me.

I quickly lift my hands away from his, leaving his fingers alone on the keys. My hands feel cold, and I watch as he lifts his arms around me and moves away from my body.

“Why did you come down here?” he asks suddenly. I turn around to look at him, watching as he rubs the back of his neck with one hand. His other hand is absentmindedly flexing at his side, his fingers stretching and then creating a fist.

“I came down to read, to be alone. Or,” I say, trying to correct myself. “At least get away from the moping that was happening in the common room.”

He smiles. “Let me get out of your hair, give you quiet so you can read.”

“No! I mean… stay and play for me while I read. If you want,” I add, smiling at him. He looks unsure, but nods. I pick my book up from where I set it and look around for the sofa that I transfigured months ago. “Where is the sofa?” I ask him.

He turns, smiling mischievously. “Where do you think the piano came from?” he asks me knowingly. I laugh. “You prick! You transfigured my reading couch?”

He nods sheepishly. “I was going to change it back when I left, before you came back down.”

I shake my head. “No, leave it. The piano does so much more good for the room.”

Ominis smiles, before turning back to the piano. I watch his body rise and fall with a big breath, before I am floating as music fills the room once more.