#usually to actually good pianists

[trashmuis]

Mmmmmmm ok so im very sorry folks, I meant to make some TCM content today but I got really busy and ended up not being at home so i didnt get a chance to make anything post worthy. rip... I will post some tho!! I'll make up for this i swear!! I'll finish stuff up so I can post it!!!! forgive me!

but uhhhh even tho today was busy, i did have a little bit of tequila when i was out in this evening after everything,,,, so when i did come home i actually just decided to rewatch Phantom of the Paradise instead of doing anything else like productive? (sorry again)

ive sobered up a little more now and i need to sleep but God damn man. it was so good to see the movie again. my husband was in disbelief the entire time. he both loved and hated it. he says it isnt a movie. I love the movie so much. the scene with The Phantom SPRINTING down the hall always kills me. it's such a raw shaky cam shot of him BOOKING IT i laugh so hard

and oh yeah,,, Winslow Leach. i love that tall nerd with the big blue eyes and thick-ass glasses and turtleneck sweater and fluffy hair!!! hes so fucking awkward and overly passionate and ugh! but also when he is the world's dorkiest goth bird man in the bodysuit with the black makeup im???? in love. im IN. love. i pretty much screamed in joy every time Winslow Leach was on screen bc I love that FUCKING DORK I LOVE HIM!!!! like why am I like this? why lmao

im gonna post all the fanart I've saved of this movie too bc it's all beautiful and amazing and I cant get enough. and yeah also the art and stuff I have too and some more tcm bc im still also obsessed with that too heehee

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞

summary: tainted, virgin!reader is growing tired of grinding against her boyfriends. she’s never touched herself before—no toys, no fingers, no fondling—the friction from a pillow used to be enough. but, maybe having something inside of her isn’t as terrifying as she believed. charles’ pretty pianist fingers don’t look too scary, and they way he raves about how talented max’s daunting thicker fingers are; well, she could be convinced to see what all the fuss is about. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. fingering. hand and finger kink. guided masturbation. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. dialogue heavy. max is a brat tamer. word count: 2.7k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: pressure • ari lennox

preface: *laughs maniacally*

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max stated, “when you get your nails done today, don’t get a new set. keep them natural; you can get polish but keep them short and rounded with no sharp edges.”

you stared at max with a lukewarm expression. it’s seven in-the-fucking morning, and he’s woken you up from your extremely comfortable position tucked into charles’ chest to tell you that you’re getting your nails done and exactly how he wants them done. he must have lost his mind overnight.

“d’you think,” you croaked out, voice unused from sleep, “that getting my nails done will distract me from realizing that my thighs have healed from the friction burn?”

the dutchman opened his mouth to speak but you held up a hand to shush him, and continued scratchily, “‘cause it hasn’t worked. ‘n i don’t even have an appointment to get my nails done? ‘s not happening today.”

“i made one,” he responded with a self-satisfied smile, “it’s in an hour.”

“WHAT THE HELL, MAX?!” you exclaimed, fighting through the layers of blankets tangled around you to make your way out of bed to rush through getting yourself ready. charles, still asleep, snuffled unhappily at the commotion and rolled over facing away from the two of you.

max chuckled mutely as he watches you stumble off the bed towards to en-suite bath, “use my black card–i’m sure it’ll cover the late fee.”

slamming the bathroom door shut, your yell carries through the door, “I WAS GOING TO USE IT ANYWAYS!”

thanks to years of lounging in bed to the last possible second before you needed to get ready, you were exactly on time to your appointment. it’s a boujee “self-care salon” that you don’t usually go to but it’s pretty much impossible to mess up a soak-off and basic manicure. actually, max is paying so there’s really no harm in treating yourself. you go from a basic manicure to the most luxurious mani-pedi package they offer, there’s even a hand, arm, foot, and calf massage included. you leave a healthy tip too; it’s not like you can run up max verstappen’s black card, he won’t even notice.

by the time you get home, you’ve completely forgotten about being mad at max for terrorizing you with morning. but, you’re quickly reminded of why when he jumps you as soon as you walk in the front door, tugging you in by your hands as he examines your nails.

“sheesh,” you gasp, “can i close the door first?” 

charles, more awake but still disgruntled (he considers any-time before noon “too early to be awake), apparates from around the corner and walks to shut the door behind you. he wordlessy shimmies your keys and bag out of your hands, and presses a kiss to your cheek, “bonjour, mon coeur.”

“good morning, charlie,” you murmur sweetly, ignoring max’s general incompetence, “may i…” you shift awkwardly on your feet, “can i have a real kiss, please?”

the brunet’s discontented gaze turned to liquid gold warming your body with the amount of love that poured through just one glance. he leans in to kiss you but yelps, flinching away from you at a pinch on his arm from max.

the older man grunts, “bedroom first. then you can make out with each other to your hearts content.”

your legs have turned to mush from deep kisses, so you’re thankful to be seated on top of charles’ lap on your vanity chair. the monegasque has one hand fisted in the curls at the nape of your neck, moving your head to just the angle he likes as he continues to explore past the seam of your lips. he doesn’t allow you to pull away for more than half a second to catch your breath, all of your hums, moans, and whimpers of delight are caught in his mouth. the lust fogs your brain as he nips and tugs at your bottom lip, the soft skin surrounding your lips raw already from his stubble. the weight of his large hand resting on the small of your back combined with the overwhelming sensations has you shifting your hips rocking back and forth on charles’ thigh, yet you haven’t consciously noticed you actions yet. you haven’t noticed how max has been calling your name to get your attention for a while now.

“liefje, come here,” max’s voice has a commanding edge to it, that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention, “you’ve been patient like i’ve mentioned. so, i think it’s time you experience more than one of our thighs, hm?”

you squirm of charles’ lap, prying his hands off your waist when he tries to tighten his grasp, and eagerly make your way over to the foot of the bed where max is sitting–has he been watching the whole time? the monegasque huffs loudly to inform the two of you of how displeased he is at you discarding him quickly at the promise of something more. the younger man stands up and doesn’t manage to take more than one step in your direction before max halts him.

“and where do you think you’re going?” max asks condescendingly, he pulls you down to sit in between his legs, his chest to your back, so you can face charles, “only good boys get to participate. and if i can remember…two days ago, you decided to be a brat.”

the brat in question reddens, “yes! i was…being mean–but, you said that i don’t get to come, not that i don’t get to touch her?”

max shrugs dismissively, and he starts to undress you–pulling off your shirt to leave you in your bra, while he motions for you to tug off your jeans.

“mon chat–this is unfair,” charles whines, “let me touch her!”

“you want to touch her?” max asks, charles nods eagerly in response, “say you were a brat and apologize, and then maybe i’ll let you touch her.”

the brunet gapes at his boyfriend, stumbling over his words for a few seconds, before he turns to look at you, expecting you to help him out. you curl up, dropping your gaze to your lap and pulling max’s hand around you to play with it while he sorts out charles. the monegasque, too stubborn to do anything but disagree with max, clenches his jaw and fists, before he steps and back and sits in your vanity chair again. he crosses his arms across his chest, and turns his head up at max to emphasize his attitude.

“mmm,” the blonde’s chest rumbles behind you, he dips his head to press a kiss to your temple, “he’ll learn how to act once he realizes he won’t be able to finger your pussy, pretty girl.”

you and charles both jolt with matching gasps of surprise at the reveal of today’s sexual exploration. a meek whimper escapes you and max coos sweetly, “do you want to this, liefje?”

you nod shakily, ignoring the flush of heat to your cheeks and the way you press your thighs together a little tighter. 

“words, baby.”

“y-yes, maxy.”

“remember the rules: any time you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we can stop or take a break.”

“y-yeah,” you say airly, “ok.”

“good girl.”

max tilts your head to the side and lavishes kisses along your neck. your breath catches at the unexpected attention, you can only rest limply against max as he sucks marks into your skin. he nips teasingly at your pulse point and you tighten your grasp on his hand to prevent yourself from moaning embarrassingly loud. you let your head fall backwards to give max complete access to the length of your throat, and in the motion you make eye contact with charles. his green eyes are piercing–you can see the envy, yet you can’t tell if he wishes he was max in this moment, or if he wishes he was you.

the dutchman moves lower and focuses on bruising up your collarbone, tugging and biting at the thin skin and you’ve quickly lost your ability to regulate your volume. every exhale transforms into a moan and max’s free hand gets more exploratory as a result. his lips are wet and flushed red when he pulls himself away from the expanse of your newly bruised neck, playing absently with the strap of your bra and whispers next to your ear, “may i take this off, liefje?”

“yeah, yes, yes–take it off,” you rush out, turning shy at the sound of max’s amusement, “you can take it off, please?”

the use of manners quiets the man’s laughter easily; something about the way you use ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ unhesitantly in bed causes his brain to misfire. he rids you of the bra, tossing it at charles, who catches it and stares at max in disdain.

the older man smirks, and brings both of his hands to your chest to ghost the pads of his thumbs against your nipples. the barely there touch had your back arching, pushing your breasts more firmly into his grasp to seek more of the sensation. his chest rumbles behinds you and he steadfastly applies more pressure as he toys with the buds–your moans are more like sharp whines now, and whenever he throws in an occasional pinch you shriek, as your vision already blurs from this level of pleasure. you’ll cum before he gets his hand inside your panties.

you clumsy pull at his right hand, trying to tug it away from your breast to direct him further south, but max tuts disapprovingly and you cease your motions as soon as the sound registers.

“actually, liefje–you won’t need my hand for this part, only my voice.”

you tilt your head towards him to stare in confusion, and max brings his hand up to caress your cheek, “i’m going to teach you how to finger yourself, if that’s okay?”

you gulp, the pressure in your tummy only building, “more than okay.”

max nods, and presses a kiss on your jawline.

“be good for me and touch yourself over your panties, pretty girl.”

you squirm anxiously, but do as he ordered. you drag your hand down past your navel and in between your thighs, trying to keep them as closed as possible without having yourself spread out obscenely. max, obviously, doesn’t allow that to slide, and spreads your legs for you, draping them along the outside of his, his knees pressing outwards to prevent you from slamming your thighs shut. you whimper shamefully, but continue to drag two fingers along the seam of your cunt over your thin panties, the fabric beginning to darken as you start to leak.

“nice and slow until you start to get wet for me, yeah?”

“‘m already wet, maxy,” you murmur, biting your lip to suppress a whimper.

(“merde,” charles groans from across the room, throwing his head backwards.)

max brings his hand down to tug your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cooler air of the room, and moans at how your glistenting already, “shit–always so wet for me. keep dragging your fingers up and down, liefje.”

max’s hand continues to rest on your navel after he tucked your panties away, and you quickly bore of the slide of your fingers, huffing silently and nudging your nose against his jaw for the next direction, “once your fingers are nice and wet, you’re going to take just one–and gently press inside, yeah? you should be nice and relaxed, okay–if your pretty hole doesn’t open up easily just keep rubbing at yourself and then try again.”

you nod jerkily, and your first attempt at breaching your inner walls fails. you chickened out–after your felt yourself opening up, the pressure was odd. however, with max’s reassurance, you took another pass over your cunt and then tried again. and this time, your finger easily slid within in you–a shocked gasp pushed from your chest at the intrusion. 

“you’re okay,” max murmurs, rubbing at your side and navel calmly, “take your time, get used to the feeling, and when your ready you can start moving that finger, liefje.”

it’s odd–the feeling of something inside you. a little uncomfortable, but not painful like you thought it would be. the strange feeling passes quickly, especially when you draw your finger out and press deeper–it feels good? you think, it feels good at least. max watches the array of emotion pass over your face, and once he sees the previous apprehension dissipate, he instructs you to slide in another finger. the addition for another finger is easier for you this time, even though the pressure is multiplied–as if once you learned that this wouldn’t be painful you were a lot more receptive to the intrusion. 

and when your second finger pops in, the stretch feels good. you sigh breathily, and without further instruction, you begin to slowly thrust your fingers. max leans back and allows you to awkwardly fumble through your own motions, allowing you to figure out what brings you pleasure and what doesn’t. you mimic what you’ve heard girls talk about before, curling your fingers, scissoring them wide, pressing them upwards–and it feels fucking euphoric. your moans begin to ring through the room, and your hips buck dowards to meet your palm, pushing in your fingers deep.

“hm–you see why you needed your nails cut now, pretty girl,” max teases. his words go unheard by you, you’re more focused on trying to find the one spot everybody raves about–you want your vision to flash white, your toes to curl, your eyes to roll, your back to arch, your chest to heave–but you can’t find it. you whine in displeasure, kicking your foot out angrily, and begin to more vigorously thrust your fingers to no avail. 

“let me give you a hand, pretty.”

max gently removes your hand, a sob falling from your lips at the newfound emptiness, but quickly soothes you with the press of two of his fingers inside of you. you and max moan in unison–max at the feeling of  just how tight and dripping wet you are and you at the size of his fingers. max patiently waits for you to adjust, before he begins to absolutely ravage your pussy. his fingers are unforgiving; his rhythm is consistent, the pads of his fingers press firmly along your walls, and he finds your sweet spot after his second attempt of searching.

you shriek, legs trying and failing to slam shut at the overload of pleasure—max coos, ‘good girl’s’ and ‘so pretty’s’ falling from his lips freely. it’s a testament to how talented he is with is fingers that as soon as his thumb falls to press at the bud of your clit–you cum.

it surprises you, max, and charles (from across the room). it’s so overwhelming you cry–forget a toe-curling orgasm, you’e pretty sure you’ve just forgotten your name. your hips are frantically thrusting forward freely, and maxx continues to rub his hand over yout clit until you start bucking away from him in discomfort. you’ve soaked the bed, again. the dutchman tenderly pulls his fingers from the pulsing warmth of your cunt, and calls charles to the bed.

the younger man rushes forward, kneeling on the bed next to max. wordlessly, the blonde shoves his fingers covered in your essence into his mouth, smirking wide at how charles’ eyes widen, exposing his blown out pupils, before they drop to a half-lidded gaze as he thoroughly slurps max’s fingers clean.

when charles pulls away from max’s hand, panting heavily like he was the one who was just brought to a mind-blowing orgasm, max drops that same saliva-covered hand to grope at the bulge in charles’ pants.

the monegasque moans highly, hips thrusting forward to press deeper in to max’s hand–but he pulls it away cruelly.

“you better go take a cold shower charles, since you still can’t come for a while,” max orders nonchalantly, “you might want to put some music on while you’re in there. i would hate for you to get hard again when you hear me make her squirt.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarrii @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock@biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris @xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari

© httpsserene 2023

[aflame4goinghome]

Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter one

Series Summary: As a local jazz pianist in Nashville, you never fear being in the spotlight. Living in the same city, you’ve become very familiar with Sam Kiszka, a young musician who’s managed to gain a bad reputation in the city and throughout the country within his band’s fanbase. You’ve always just ignored Sam’s promiscuous and impulsive ways, but when you’re approached by the band to help repair his image, you’re given an offer you can’t refuse.

Word Count: 6k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of smoking (tobacco & marijuana), flirting, arguing, sexual tension… you get it ;) (no smut… yet)

A/N: Hi guys! I’m so excited to share this series with you all. The idea came to me and I think it really ended up so good, I can’t wait for you to read it. Let me know in the comments or in my messages if you want to be added to the taglist for this series! See you soon :)

Listen to the playlist here :)

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

The club was dark and crowded as you entered through the front door and made your way backstage to begin setting up. Your shoulders brushed past other people in the crowd, making it difficult for you to get to the back. On your way there, you paused for a moment, deciding to stop at the bar first for a much-needed drink.

“Hey, Sebastian!” you said, leaning over the bar as you greeted the bartender. You’ve been playing here for so many years, these guys were some of the closest friends you’ll ever have.

“Y/N, hey! Need a pick-me-up?” he said, turning his attention to you fully for a moment as the bar was bustling with other customers. Better make this quick.

“Can I just get a double rum and coke? Only a little bit of ice in it,” you asked, smiling politely as he nodded and began making your drink.

You take a second to look around the club as you wait, feeling a bit nervous as you take in how many people are actually there. You’ve played big crowds before, sure, but tonight felt extra intimidating for some reason.

You had sensed for a few months now that your big break might be coming soon, at least that’s what you’d hoped. You’ve grown to be quite popular in the greater Nashville area, but your reach hasn’t gone much further than that. You hope to branch off and move to New York one day, to play there professionally full-time.

For now, though, you make your living by playing gigs weekly, posting your music online, and taking a few brand deals here and there. It’s working well, and you make enough money to get by, but you’re not entirely fulfilled.

“Double rum and coke for the lovely lady,” Sebastian said, sliding your drink across the bar toward you with a smile. You return his smile and take it in your hand, tipping it toward him as a thank you.

“Thanks, Seb. I’ll be back later, you know I’m gonna need it,” you muttered, taking a long swig of your drink before squeezing your way through the rest of the crowd and finally making it to the backstage door.

Pushing the door open, you turned the corner toward your usual dressing room and started to set yourself up. You take your coat off, place it on the small couch with your tote bag, and then turn to the mirror to touch up your makeup before you take the stage in 15 minutes. You hear the door crack open, so you turn your head to look and see who it is.

“There you are, Lucy!” you exclaimed, moving to the door to greet her with a hug. “Where the hell have you been? I didn’t see you at the bar before.”

“Sorry, babe, Seb had me refilling the kegs downstairs for him… lazy bastard,” she scoffed, moving past you to plop down on the couch. “That’s a man’s job! That shit is so heavy!” You chuckle at her, finishing off your drink and then turning back to the mirror to finish applying your lipstick.

“He’s building up your strength, Luce! What happened to equal rights?” you laughed, making eye contact with her in the mirror as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Whatever, Y/N. I don’t see you lifting any heavy things,” she mutters, crossing her arms and throwing her head back.

Lucy was probably your best friend in the whole city. You met her in high school, being in the same jazz band class together, and immediately clicked. She works at Seb’s jazz club part-time as a bartender and server, which is how you started playing there. You play plenty of gigs at other places too, but this place became your regular haunt, thanks to Lucy’s help. She asked Sebastian to give you a chance to audition 4 years ago, and you’ve been playing there ever since.

The two of you live together in a little apartment in Midtown, only a couple blocks away from the club. After graduating high school, Lucy decided to go to Belmont for journalism while you ended up just starting to work on your music full-time. You made ends meet and helped pay rent while Lucy went to school, and she’s worked to make it up to you ever since.

She’s in her last semester of graduate school now at Vanderbilt, getting a business degree with hopes of founding a newspaper of her own one day. At 24, she seems like she’s finally getting her life together, but for you, it feels like you’re only just getting started. You try not to compare yourself to her or anyone else, which was something your mother always nagged you about. You knew she was right, but you can’t help it.

Despite all of that, you’re sure that you’ll break into the industry soon. Seb had planned to hook you up with his buddy who works in one of the recording studios downtown to get you in and record your own stuff. He’s just waiting on your word to tell him that the album is ready, but you haven’t been able to finish it for the life of you. You’re not sure if it’s fear or perfectionism, but it just doesn’t feel finished to you yet. For now, you’re filling your time with gig after gig, hoping to find inspiration.

“Stop sulking in here and get back to work, I have to be out there in 5,” you say, turning around to give her a stern look. She scoffs at you and then stands up, walking out the door.

“Break a leg!” she shouts as she rounds the corner, leaving you alone once more.

You have to admit that you’re feeling nervous. You compiled a few originals to test out tonight with the crowd, hoping to get some excited reactions to some stuff that you planned to include in your record. You had a few classics in the setlist too, including your favorite arrangements of Misty and Lullaby of Birdland, to make sure that the crowd doesn’t get too lost. But you hope that you’re new stuff will keep them captivated.

You take a deep breath, brushing your hands down your dress a few times to straighten it out and taking one last look in the mirror before exiting the dressing room and heading toward the stage. You hear Seb announce your name as you turn the corner and stride onto the stage, flashing a quick smile at the crowd before sitting down at the piano.

The crowd hushed as your fingers plinked out the first few notes, and then you started your first piece. Your hands glided across the keys with ease as you closed your eyes, getting lost in the music. Your first original piece went off without a hitch, the crowd cheering loudly at your extensive solo. They were enraptured by the covers you chose and your confidence was truly shining brightly off of you.

The set ended as quickly as it began and the club erupts in applause as you played the last note and stood up to take a bow. You look out into the crowd and see your friends back at the bar, flashing them a wide smile. Your eyes pan across the rest of the room, seeing all of the people cheering for you. This was what you were made for, you were sure of it. This is what you’re meant to do.

As your eyes stop at the back corner of the room, your expression quickly drops when you see the group at the large booth. It was a group of men from a band that you were very familiar with, bumping elbows at all the music venues in Nashville. It wasn’t the band specifically that you had a problem with, but just one specific man who always gave you trouble. Sam Kiszka.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, flashing one more smile at the crowd before rushing backstage to your dressing room. You were so not in the mood for his antics tonight, not after putting on such a good show. The rest of his brothers, you could deal with, but not him. You refuse to let him tear down the confidence in yourself that you only just built up.

You grabbed your things in your dressing room and then hurried back out to the bar, needing to get a refill on your drink before even attempting to socialize with anybody.

“Seb– another, please. Pour it heavy,” you lament, resting your elbows on the bar and putting your head in your hands. You hear him chuckle as he starts your drink and you let out a low groan.

“I take it you saw them, then?” Lucy said, leaning against the bar next to you. You nodded as your head still sat in your hands, not bothering to look up at her. “Y/N, they’re really not that bad, I don’t understand what your problem is.” Your head shot up and you glared at her frustratedly.

“Not that bad? Sam takes every opportunity he can to belittle my music and talent every time I see him,” you scoffed, taking your drink from Seb and taking a long sip. “And when he’s not berating me, he’s trying to get in my pants.” Lucy rolls her eyes, stepping behind the bar to grab some drinks and put them on her tray.

“As if I’d ever stoop that low. That man’s been in bed with every single woman in Nashville. Probably even taken women, too!” you ranted, crossing your arms and taking another sip.

“Just ignore him, babe. I know the rest of them would like to see you,” Lucy said, lifting the tray to rest on her shoulder. “These are their drinks. Just come with me.”

She walks away with the tray toward the other side of the club to find their table. You linger for a moment and then let out an annoyed groan, throwing back another sip before reluctantly following behind her.

You followed Lucy with your head down, trying not to look too eager or willing to go with her. As you approached the table, Josh was the first one to catch a glimpse of you, a toothy smile growing across his face.

“There she is, the woman of the hour,” Josh remarks, opening his arms wide to pull you in for a hug. You accept, squeezing him tightly before pulling away. You smiled shyly as the others greeted you as well, except Sam, of course. He was distracted, seemingly complimenting the top Lucy had on. Barf.

She’d already been there, done that, which isn’t exactly surprising. Your best friend always had an affinity for one-night stands, never really wanting to settle down or get too serious. You never cared at all, until she told you one morning that she went home with Sam after a show one night. She promised that she didn’t plan to do it again, claiming she used him just as much as he used her, and you left it at that.

She kept her word, never going home with him again, but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her every time he came in here. You rolled your eyes as you watched him glance down at her cleavage subtly, but not subtle enough for you not to notice. He finally notices you standing there, turning toward you with a smirk. Here we go.

“Y/N… that was quite the set,” Sam said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to their booth. Josh and Jake excuse themselves to go outside for a smoke, and Danny takes a seat back in the booth, scrolling on his phone. Alone, great.

“Thanks, I think,” you say sarcastically, taking a sip of your drink as you look up at him suspiciously. You didn’t trust that look on his face one bit, and you were determined to find out what he was up to.

“Oh, that wasn’t a compliment,” he said smugly. “If you’re gonna arrange music, at least write a song where the chord progressions actually make sense together.” He raises his beer bottle to his lips and tips his head back to take a sip. You scoff at him, trying to take a deep breath before you blow this entire thing out of proportion.

“Samuel, you wouldn’t know a good arrangement even if it hit you in your smug face,” you bit out, still doing your best to hold yourself back. You swing back the rest of your drink, letting the cold ice hit your lips before slamming it down on the table next to you. “It was a B flat and E flat blues. Who crowned you the king of jazz composition?”

His smirk grew wider across his face as his back left the wall and he began to tower over you. You sucked in a deep breath, wondering if you should've just kept your mouth shut, but frankly you didn’t care. His long hair frames his face as he looks down on you, his eyes dark and cold.

“I did,” he answered, his face growing uncomfortably close to yours. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.” His tongue skims his bottom lip as his eyes bore into yours. No. No. He is not gonna win this round.

“Is that why you enjoy bothering me so much?” you asked, keeping your eyes locked on his, insistent on not backing down. His lips turn upward into a smug smile as he leans back away from you, placing his back on the wall once more.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just think it’s fun,” he answers, smirking down at you.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” you scoff, crossing your arms. You notice a change in his eyes at your words, and you start to wonder if you took it too far.

“You’ve got no idea, sweetheart,” Sam says, stepping forward again to stand over you.

“Gross,” you mutter under your breath, looking up at him, trying to keep a straight face.

“Now, I don’t think you mean that,” Sam whispered, leaning down further to speak into your ear. “I think you like it, actually.”

“You wish,” you state, still maintaining eye contact. His mouth twitches and turns up into a smirk as one of his arms snakes around your waist.

“All that blushing you’re doing says otherwise, doll. Even in this dark club, you can’t hide it,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Fuck.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked. You watch silently as Sam puts his beer bottle down on the table and then reaches into the front pocket of his shirt, pulling out a lighter and a blunt. “C’mon Daniel, let’s go outside.”

Sam shoots you a wink before nodding his head in Danny’s direction and the two of them walk toward the front entrance. They pass the twins on their way out, who both turn to look at you with puzzled expressions as they sit down at the booth. You sit down next to Josh as you try to adjust the annoyed look that is so clearly plastered across your face.

“What the hell was that all about?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrow at you and taking a sip from his glass of whiskey sitting on the table. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, not even having an answer to give.

“The usual, of course. Can’t seem to leave me alone,” you muttered. The two of them let out a breathy laugh as Josh reaches over to put his arm around you.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him, darling,” he offers, smoothing his fingers along your shoulder. “It’s all just show.”

“For it just being show, it sure does feel pretty insulting,” you say, fiddling with your fingers atop the table.

“You’ll adjust eventually,” Jake says. “We like havin’ you around, so don’t run off just yet.” A smile grows across your face at Jake’s subtle attempt at an olive branch.

“I’ll tough it out, I promise,” you answer. You suppose you can adjust to Sam’s antics to spend time with them. You could use all the friends in the industry as you could get.

“How long have you been playing piano?” Josh asks, taking a sip of his tequila soda.

“Oh, I started lessons when I was 6,” you answered with a smile.

“That’s sick, I started pretty young too,” Jake replies, resting his arms on the table. Bonding with successful musicians has been your dream and the fact that you’re getting along so well made you really happy.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard! Believe it or not, I am actually a bit of a fan of your band. Casually, of course,” you smile, trying to be chill about it. It wasn’t entirely a lie, you are just a casual fan, but you’ve definitely watched an interview or two as well, leading to you knowing more about them than you intended to.

“Oh, yeah? Which one of us is your favorite, huh?” Josh asks smugly, raising an eyebrow at you hopefully. God, the amount of testosterone in this room could be cut with a knife.

“Hmmm… Danny,” you jest, elbowing Josh softly. The three of you break out into laughter before you check your phone to see the time. 12:32 am. Yikes, it’s late.

“Well, I gotta head out, unfortunately,” you say, standing up from the booth. Before you had the chance to walk off, Josh stopped you.

“Hey, uh, we’re gonna be in the studio on Monday for a few hours to work on some new music… would you wanna stop by?” Josh asked, looking up at you hopefully. “It could be a cool way for you to get exposed to how the recording process works.”

“Oh, wow, that would be incredible!” you smiled. “That’s such a kind offer, thank you so much! I’ll definitely be there.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you the details,” he says with a smile, and you wave goodbye to them both and walk over to the bar to find Lucy.

“Ready to head out?” you ask, leaning over the bar toward her.

“Sure, let’s go!” she answers, turning around to grab her jacket and bag.

“God, I have so much to fill you in on…” you say as you walk out the door toward your apartment. You told her all about your brief run-in with Sam, and then Josh’s invitation to the studio as you walk down the street. She quite literally squeals when she hears the news.

“OH MY GOD, Y/N this could be it! This could be your big break!” she exclaimed as you turned the corner to the path to your building. “If you get in with their producers, this could really get you started! You have to make a good impression.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m freaking out! I really can’t screw this up,” you said as you turn the key in the door.

“You could never screw it up, babe. They’re gonna love you, I promise,” Lucy reassured you, hugging you tightly before branching off to her own bedroom.

All you had to do was get through the weekend, and then the day of your dreams will be all yours. Fuck, you don’t have anything prepared! As you shut the door to your bedroom, you rushed to sit down at your keyboard, turning it on. You pulled out your phone and opened the voice memos app, pressing start and then setting it down. You have to get a good demo down if you want to impress the producers at the studio and book a session there.

You spent all of Saturday and Sunday recording a few of your originals on your phone, taking dozens of takes to make sure each of them was perfect. This is it, it’s your moment.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Your alarm goes off at 8 am, giving you two hours until you’re meant to meet Greta Van Fleet at the studio. Josh texted you yesterday with the time and address, emphasizing that you shouldn’t overthink it. He knew that you’d be freaking out, and he was right.

You’re hoping that a cool shower will wake you up and help you shake the nerves off. You get up out of bed, rub your eyes, and then grab your towel and walk out of your bedroom to the bathroom.

As the cold water hits your back, you start to think over the day that you have ahead of you. If everything goes the way you planned, then you might leave today with a record deal, or plans to meet up to make a deal. You appreciated Josh’s help so greatly, you really weren’t expecting it. He’s always been so kind to you, more so than the rest, but you figured that it was just the way he was. Now, it feels like he really has your back.

All you had to do was make it through today without any incidents with Sam. You hope that the other guys have already briefed him and told him to be on his best behavior, but you doubt that he’ll abide by that. You can hold your own, though, and you doubt that he’d pull something too obscene while working.

After drying off and getting ready to go, you find that you still have about 20 minutes until you need to leave. To pass the time, you sat down in your bed and opened up Instagram to scroll mindlessly for a little while until you had to drive downtown.

As you scroll down, your eye is caught by a post by The Nashville Fiddle, which is a local magazine. The Fiddle posts mostly about drama and celebrities, and you usually ignore everything they post, since you try not to give gossip the time of day. But this time, your eyes were stuck on their post, with a video of Sam Kiszka, belligerent and wasted outside of a club downtown Saturday night.

In the video, you can see Sam flirting with a girl outside of the club when a big, burly man comes up to him angrily. Clearly, this girl was taken, and her boyfriend was not happy. You can see Sam hollering back at him, getting in his face as he slurs his words before the man takes a large swing at him. Then, you see Danny show up behind him and pull him back, dragging him down the street, far away from the scene.

How could he be so stupid? Flirting with girls with boyfriends is bad enough, but it’s even worse to get into an argument and get caught on camera. He should know that he’s a public figure and that people can spread this kind of stuff around. What was he thinking?

You check the time and see that it’s about time to go, so you grab your tote, pick up your keys, and then head out the door. As you drive downtown, you take a few deep breaths. It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself. Everything will be fine.

Soon enough, you pull into a parking spot in front of the studio and put your car in park. 9:59 am. Just on time. You get out of the car, throw your keys into your bag, and then head toward the front door. After opening the door, you walked in and told the person at the front desk that you were meeting the band, and they directed you to the right studio.

As you enter the studio, you walk in to only find Danny sitting there. He looks up from his drum set and waves, standing up to greet you.

“Hey, Danny… where are the others?” you asked, hugging him and then taking a seat on a chair nearby. Danny lets out a long laugh, trying to compose himself before answering.

“Oh, they are never here on time. This is considered early,” he answers, smiling widely as he goes to sit back down at his set. “I wouldn’t expect any of them for at least another thirty minutes, if not longer.” You laugh along with him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Ah, Josh should have told me! Now I feel embarrassed for being so early,” you say, looking down at your phone for the time. 10:11 am.

“Nah, he just can’t admit that he’s always chronically late. He’s in denial,” Danny jokes. “Do you want anything while we wait? There’s coffee and tea over there.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually,” you answered, standing up to walk over to the coffee cart. “I’ll be honest, I’m not much of a morning person.” Daniel laughs, standing up to walk over with you.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met a jazz player that was,” he says with a smile. “I think it’s just part of your DNA.” You laugh, nodding your head in agreement.

“You might be right. It’s not our fault, we play at night!” you say, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

“Sam’s the same way, y’know. Stays up ‘til ungodly hours of the night, and then doesn’t roll out of bed until after noon,” he notes, laughing to himself. You laugh awkwardly as you add cream to your cup, cringing at the possibility of having anything in common with Sam Kiszka.

Almost as if he read your mind, Sam walked through the door, sunglasses blocking the dark bags under his eyes. He’s clearly hungover, rubbing his temples as he waltzes over to the cart and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring it into his own cup.

“Rough weekend, Samuel?” you asked teasingly, having already read about his escapades from this weekend. You can see his eyes roll behind the tint of the sunglasses as he takes a sip of his black coffee.

“Don’t start with me today, sweetheart,” he mumbled, pouring more coffee into his cup to make up for what he already drank, and then walking over to the corner to sit down on the sofa. He puts his feet up on the cushions as he takes a sip and then lays his head back against the armrest.

“See what I mean?” Danny asks, laughing as he walks over to his set and starts playing on his own, seemingly practicing. The idea sends a shiver down your spine. Could you and Sam be more similar than you thought? No, no way, you thought to yourself.

Not long after, Josh and Jake walk through the door and things can finally start moving. Josh walks over to make a cup of tea and then takes a seat on a stool, taking a slow sip. You walk over to him, hoping that his usual cheery disposition would calm your nerves.

“Good morning, lovely,” Josh smiled, patting your shoulder softly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” you answered nonchalantly with a shy smile.

“Good. We’re still waiting for our manager, Jodie, to arrive, so just hang tight,” he says, taking another sip of his tea.

“Hey, you know what? How about you play us something?” he asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “Could be a good way to wake us up, huh?”

Your eyes shoot open, looking around the room at the rest of the guys. Danny is nodding excitedly and Jake walks over to his guitar stand, picking up his Gibson SG and slinging it over his head. Sam isn’t paying attention, his sunglasses have come off and his eyes are shut as he reclines on the couch.

“Well, okay… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you answered, walking over to Sam’s keyboard next to the drumset. You turn it on and adjust the settings, giving it a funkier sound before taking a deep breath and starting to play.

You decide to play Higher Ground, by Stevie Wonder, falling into the groove of the intro of the song as your fingers move across the keys. Danny’s face lights up as he listens closely to what you’re playing, then starts playing along. Jake follows suit, adding his guitar into the mix, and playing along with you. Of course, everyone knows Stevie Wonder, but being able to play with a band was just so cool to you.

People keep on learnin’

Soldiers keep on warnin’

World keep on turnin’

‘Cause it won’t be too long

Josh sings along, his voice fitting perfectly in the range of the song. The four of you are really grooving now, and it is so fun for you. It’s been years since you’ve played with others, and you loved it.

You watch as Sam lifts his head from the couch, opening his tired eyes to look over at you all. For a moment there, you almost think that he might be smiling, but you shake it off. You’re surprised to see him rise from the couch and walk over, grabbing his Rickenbacker off the stand and putting the strap over his head. Oh, he’s gonna play along…

Sam starts plucking his bass, along with the rest of the song. You knew that they’d all played in jazz bands before, and this song was a staple, but it surprised you how easy it was to join together and play. It was almost like you belonged there.

As you start a short piano solo, their manager walks through the door and sits down on the couch. She seems to nod at you to keep going, so you finish your solo and then end the song. You’re suddenly caught by surprise as Josh starts applauding, smiling widely as he walks over to you. He stands behind you, putting his hands firmly on your shoulders, squeezing them.

“You’re an incredible talent, Y/N, truly,” Josh remarked, smiling from ear to ear as he left your side and went to sit back down. You smile shyly and get up from the bench behind the piano to go sit down on the couch with Jodie. The rest of the guys start talking cacophonously as you start your conversation privately with her.

“It’s true, you’re really good,” she says honestly, reaching out to shake yours. “I’m Jodie, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, you have? Thank you so much, it’s great to meet you. I assume it was Josh who told you about me, he’s the one who invited me today,” you answer, smiling shyly at the compliment.

“I first heard about you from Sam actually… he had a lot to say about your talent on the keys,” she says, catching you completely by surprise. Sam? Is she being serious right now?

“Did he now?... Interesting,” you replied, your tone feigning confidence. “Well, I’m honored to be here today. I’ve been meaning to finally get into a studio here in Nashville.”

“Yes, I heard from Josh that you plan on recording an album of original songs,” Jodie remarks. “I’m happy to have you here! Hopefully, we can get you to work a bit! Not to mention, it’s quite nice to have a bit more of a gender balance.” You laugh together for a moment before she gets up to greet the guys, going over the agenda for the session.

They go through a few new songs, trying to get it all down perfectly. You just sit and watch, absolutely mesmerized by watching the professionals work. You even escaped to the booth for a while to see the mechanics of the equipment, talking to some of the sound techs that work there. It was a really rewarding learning experience for you.

“Okay, that’s a wrap, guys! Good work today, we’ll be back here at the same time on Friday,” Jodie says. “Sam, can you hang back for a sec?” She walks back over to sit next to you on the couch, nodding her head to motion for Sam to join you. Once she’s certain that everyone else has left the studio, she starts talking.

“So, I’ve had an idea. Just hear me out,” she started, somewhat apprehensively. “Y/N, I was thinking about how highly the guys speak about you, and how much untapped talent you have.” Okay… this is getting weird.

“And Sam, I’ve been thinking about ways to improve your public image and get you out of your rut,” she finished, trailing off as she saw Sam’s annoyed expression.

“Okay, first of all, I am not in a rut,” he said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he leaned back on the couch.

“That’s not the point,” she snapped back. “My point is that I think I might have thought of a way to solve all of our problems.” You raise your eyebrow at her, still not really understanding what she’s getting at.

“What could possibly solve both of our problems?” you ask suspiciously.

“Like I said, just hear me out…” she says, but Sam interrupts her.

“Jodie, just spit it out already,” he groaned, growing frustrated.

“I think you guys should pretend to date!” she finally spat out, looking nervously at your reactions. Your jaw dropped as she finished her sentence, unsure that you even heard her right. Sam, however, already shot up out of his seat and stood angrily above you both.

“No, fuck no, absolutely not. This is ridiculous,” he starts ranting, but she cuts him off.

“Just listen to me, Sam. You’d improve your reputation by having a charismatic and talented girlfriend, the fans would love her! And Y/N, you’d gain followers and fans for your music career, and our label can get you started in our studio. Boom, both problems are fixed.”

“No! How could I even pretend to be interested in him? It’s impossible,” you complained.

“Woah, okay, try not to sound too disgusted,” Sam said, crossing his arms with a scoff.

“Don’t act like you didn’t react the exact same way, you asshole,” you scoff, staring daggers into him.

“Whatever, it’s not the same thing,” he spits back.

“Whatever, this isn’t productive,” you admit, crossing your arms in your seat.

“Exactly. It won’t even be that bad. Besides, you’re both benefiting here! It’s perfect,” Jodie says proudly.

“Well, I don’t know about perfect, but I guess it does kind of make sense…” you muttered, looking up at Sam nervously. He raised an eyebrow at you, walking toward you.

“You want to be my fake girlfriend, Y/N?” he teased. You roll your eyes and stand up to be more level with him, hating him towering over you.

“Shut up, Sam,” you replied, a hint of pink tinting your cheeks as your eyes locked on his.

“So? You guys are in?” Jodie asked hopefully. You and Sam exchange a look, then look back at her and nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re in,” Sam answered, looking over at you with a smirk before walking toward the door. “Now, are we done here? I’ve got places to be.” You roll your eyes and reach down to grab your bag.

“We’re done here, go,” you mutter, slinging your bag over your arm. Sam walks out the door as quickly as he had came in, and you follow soon after him.

As you drive back home from the studio, you think about all of the day’s events. You almost can’t even believe that you agreed to be Sam’s girlfriend, fake or not. But you have to admit that it’s going to be great for your career, this is exactly the big break you need. You feel confident that her choice to ask you was based on your talent, so the unconventional means of gaining popularity didn’t bother you.

It kind of excited you to be included with such a famous rock band like theirs– going on tour, going to the studio, seeing the magic happen. Having to spend time with Sam was just the price you had to pay to jumpstart your music career and get into the music industry. You’re not sure what type of a commitment this arrangement is going to entail for you, but you’re honestly kind of looking forward to it. You have to admit that “Rockstar’s Girlfriend” kind of has a ring to it.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

chapter two

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, or if you want to be tagged in all of my stories! See you soon :)

Taglist:

@highladyofasgard @gvfpal @childinthegardenn @myleftsock @peaceloveunitygvf @gretasfallingsky @gretavanfan @itsafullmoon @jordie-gvf

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Put Your Finger On It

Summary: Fingering is a pianist term...right?

A/N: I finally watched La La Land and well, Seb is loud...very loud.

As per usual, it's NSFW 18+ @ken-dom I blame you with the utmost love for this one, however you're not 100% to blame, late night chats with @webbo0 in the Goosecord also sparked the idea for this one. Figured our favourite man's birthday is as good a day as any to drop a double feature.

Enjoy my loves <3

You leaned over the small table, gently blowing out the last of the candles in the centre. Seb sat at the piano on the stage lost in his own world bathed in a blue light. You set your tray and bar rag on the bartop watching him intently.

He lost himself so easily in music it almost made you jealous; you had never been so passionate about anything. 

You had sent the last of the waitresses home for the night; it was just the two of you left in the club.

You watched his elegant fingers slide effortlessly over the keys, tie loosely hanging on his neck, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. You ran your tongue between your lips, teeth gently sinking into your bottom lip as you stood leaning against the bar, transfixed God he was something else. 

This caught his attention, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked up from the keys with a raised eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

You climbed the tiny steps to the stage; Seb’s back to you, completely oblivious to your presence.

Your heels clicked across the hard floor as you stepped up on the bench, perching yourself on the corner of the piano top, legs crossed at the ankles, feet resting on the piano bench. 

“I was listening to you play” you sighed, stretching back over the glossy top “Oh wait, would you like this better?” 

You scooted back on the smooth top, swinging your legs around behind you as you laid flat on your stomach, feet kicked in the air as you leaned forward with your elbows up, your chin in your hands. He just rolled his eyes. “Is there no one left for you to annoy?” 

You hummed pretending to consider his question before scrunching your nose with a shake of your head “No” 

You grunted sitting back up, swinging your legs back over in front of the keys directly in front of where Seb sat. “I don’t know how Lucy does that, it isn’t comfortable” 

“Lucy also laid on the floor” Seb sighed obviously irritated with your antics “Not on top of the piano” 

You laughed lightly with a small squeak “You did not watch Charlie Brown” 

“Everyone watched Charlie Brown” he muttered not paying you any attention “Now, get off my piano” 

Again, you pretended to consider his request before you shook your head “Nah” Instead crossing your ankles, resting your still heel clad feet in his lap. 

He picked up both your legs, his hands warm on your bare skin, moving them to the side out of his immediate way. 

You sighed, lifting one leg, bracing it on his knee as you lifted the other to unbuckle your shoe before dropping it to the stage floor with a loud clatter. Intentionally sliding your now bare foot up his thigh as he sat on the small bench, you did the same with the other shoe, dropping it next to the first. 

“Heels hurt” you said simply, watching him press his lips together in irritation as your now bare feet rested on his thighs, your position still impeding his ability to actually play. “It’s getting late”

He didn’t answer, but you watched as his eyes traveled up your bare legs, the hem of your blue cocktail dress coming to rest just above your knees. 

You slid your foot slowly along his thigh, gently biting your lip watching him, his head dropped, a chunk of his blonde hair falling across his forehead. You jumped a little when his large hand closed over your foot, stopping it from moving. 

Finally, he looked up, making eye contact, but still not speaking, his long slender fingers wrapped loosely around your ankle. 

Your eyes stayed locked on his as you bit your lip gently, his fingers flexing against your achilles tendon before his hand started to slide slowly up your leg, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest, beating a little harder under his blue eyed scrutiny, but you kept your composure; even after his other hand slid over your knee mirroring its partner on the other side, his fingers dangerously close to creeping up under the hem of your dress. You sat silent, in a battle of wills. Your bare feet resting on his thighs, his impossibly warm hands resting on your bare knees. The room was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. 

You purposely dug your heel a little harder into the top of his thigh, pushing you foot closer to his mid section, in turn forcing his hand to push further up your thigh and off your knee, fingertips disappearing under the fabric of your dress. This was torture. 

As if he’d read your mind or the thought was written clear as day on your face, Seb slid his hand up your thigh; dress bunching at your hip as his fingers teased the sensitive skin finally causing you to break eye contact, closing your eyes as you tipped your head back taking in a deep breath, fingers curling around the edge of the piano top. 

Seb’s other hand sliding tantalizingly slowly up your other thigh, your dress now sat evenly bunched across your middle. 

You looked back at him, both hands sliding up either side of your hips, fingers curling around the elastic of the waist of your panties before he stopped. 

Your core throbbed with anticipation. His movements were so fluid, every touch seemed intentional, like he had planned for this all along even though it had been you who had invaded his personal space first. 

You shifted your feet from his thighs to the more stable bench, not missing the hard on now concealed under his suit pants, giving yourself a little more stability to lift your hips in a silent invitation for him to continue.

He tugged the lacy fabric off your hips before you settled back on the piano top, lifting your feet as he slid them over your ankles before stuffing them into his pants pocket. 

His hands take a firm grip of your hips, pulling you to the very edge of the piano before pushing your knees apart, putting you on full view from his vantage point. 

He hummed with approval and you felt your stomach clench, every inch of your body suddenly aching with desire, aching to be touched. 

“Seb…” you whispered  

“Shhh” he shushed softly, putting a finger to his lips as he looked up at you “Let me work”

If you could find your voice, you would have laughed in disbelief; instead, your mouth just hung open silently before you closed it again. 

“Holy fuck” you breathed, a hand pushing your hair back off your face as Seb stood from the bench, fingers still moving. 

Seb’s fingers ghosted up the inside of your thigh playing some melody only he could hear causing you to let out a shaky breath as they crept closer to your core.

His featherlight touch made you gasp, arching back; making you moan louder as he immediately plunged two fingers deep inside you.

You thrust your hips forward shamelessly, forcing him deeper, his fingers curling in just the right way, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and lay back across the glassy top you were sitting on. 

He had positioned himself between your legs, reaching to bend one knee, your heel coming to rest on the slick keys, the mangled noise mixing with your moans. 

The hand not between your thighs pinning your hip to the piano as you tried desperately to roll into his touch. 

“Seb, please” you begged, swallowing hard. 

He leaned over you, tie still hanging loosely from around his neck as he shook his head. “No”

You frowned slightly, looking up at him “What?” you breathed hard 

“I said, no” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying hard to make sense of his words in your blissed out haze. “What do you mean n-” 

You were cut off by your own strangled cry as he thrust his fingers harder, hooking them hard against your g spot. Then it dawned on you what he had meant. 

“N-no, don’t” you pleaded, thighs squeezing hard around the hand between your legs. Still his hand moved with ease. 

“You’ll cum when I tell you to,” he thrust his fingers hard, making you cry out, “And not before” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing hard as you leaned back 

The hand on your hip moving to your jaw as he leaned over the piano “Look at me” 

You gasped, his unrelenting fingers still thrusting as he spoke, the hand on your jaw squeezing tighter, you conceded, opening your eyes. 

His breath was warm on your already overheated skin as he spoke “When I’m up here, I’m working; is that clear?” 

You nodded as much as his grip would allow, as a violent twitch shook your body. His grip became a little firmer when you didn’t answer. “Yes,” you managed a whisper, but that hadn’t been to Seb’s satisfaction. 

“I’m sorry I can’t hear you; is that clear?” he repeated

“Yes!” you cried out; fighting to keep your orgasm at bay 

“Yes what?!” his volume matching yours, his voice booming around the empty stage. 

“Seb, please” you almost wailed, fingers now gripping the edge of the piano painfully. 

“I can go all night,” he threatened “Although I doubt even you have that kind of restraint” 

“No, no, no, p-please” the foot you had resting on the keys, slipping from its place, kicking the empty bench hard, knocking it askew on the stage.. 

No longer caring how desperate you sounded he had taken the upper hand, assuming you had ever had it at all. 

“Yes, what?” he repeated, his voice had dropped to a menacing whisper; his fingers sliding from inside you with a lewd squish.

Your breath caught in your throat as your body relaxed slightly and he let go of your jaw “Yes, sir” you whispered, swallowing hard. Heart pounding in your chest as you tried to even your breathing.

Fingers curled around your wrist as Seb righted the bench in front of the piano, pulling you up into a sitting position; your core throbbing painfully, begging you to find release. 

You watched as Seb unbuttoned his fly, just enough to free his throbbing cock before he sat on the bench. 

He pulled you into his lap, you immediately collapsed against him, moaning into his neck as he buried himself inside you with a grunt as your warm heat enveloped his length. 

His hands on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. Your entire form shook with anticipation, ankles hooked around Seb’s back, clinging to him, desperate for release. 

“S-Seb please” you whispered, shuddering against him 

The slow roll of his hips was agonizing; you had resorted to whimpering, on the verge of crying you were almost certain. 

“Not yet, Darling” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his hands sliding up your back, opening the zipper of your dress before pulling it over your head, dropping it on your shoes. 

He stood, leaning you against the piano, you flinched, the surface cold on your bare back fingers instantly curling against his back as a powerful thrust forced you backward. 

“Not yet” he whispered, answering your silent plea as the edge of the piano bit into your bare skin; Seb braced against it, giving himself leverage. 

His thrusts were already erratic, watching you fall to pieces in his skilled hands, unable to do much else had been enough to almost drive him mad.

Less than half a dozen hard, determined thrusts, each one making you cry out louder than the last, His weight pinning you exactly where he wanted. “Now”

“Christ” he breathed, bending slightly to kiss you gently before leaning his forehead against yours. “That’s one hell of a birthday present” 

You never knew a single word could hold so much power; voice cracking with relief as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, legs dropping from around his waist, thankful for his weight pinning you in place as your orgasm finally reached its peak. A loud grunt against your shoulder as he slipped from inside you, his release coating your entire front.

He collapsed catching himself on the edge of the piano with both hands. 

You smiled, draping your arms around his neck kissing him again “You’re welcome”

[hanakoofthejungle]

HuskerDust watercolor fanart based on the fanfiction, Casino of Love by @artwaterfall. The fanfiction, in turn, was inspired by the Overlord Husk AU created by @celestialalpacaron.

Drawing timelapse 

This scene comes from Chapter 15 where Husk and Angel went on their first date at Fizzmodeus' restaurant. They had lobsters. Angel did not know how to eat a lobster so Husk came to the rescue. Basically, they just abused the hell out of that poor dead creature. (It occurred to me: Where does the lobster's soul go? Does it end up in hell, watching its body being consumed?)

---

Angel tried again to pry the shell off still looking over to the side. “Am I doing it?”

Husk barked a laugh so loud the pianist looked up frowning.

“Ya gotta look at what ya doing.”

“Ugh,” Angel deflated and let the lobster rest on the plate, “ maybe I shouldn't have lobster.”

“Here,” Husk got up and walked behind his chair. He laid his hand over Angel's and resumed trying to pry the poor crustacean body.

Angel blushed at the proximity, Husk was practically whispering into his ear about the damn lobster but Angel had trouble focusing with the overlord's hand on his own.

Still Angel butchered the first half of his lobster and screamed in joy a little too loud at having half of it done. People downstairs looked up at them again, frowning.

Husk was still helping him with the second half, juices and lobster bits flying everywhere at Angel clumsiness but every time they joined stares at each other, he would find the cat laughing along with him.

---

Now why did I choose this scene to draw? Because it is fun, simple, wholesome couple interaction and very relatable. It reminds me of the time when I had lobster for the first time in Brussels, spending more time to crack open the lobster than actually enjoying the dish. Turns out lobster did not taste that great, but at the least the group of elderly American at the next table got a good laugh out of watching me and my friend absolutely butcher that lobster :)))

Having never watched Helluva Boss, I had to look up what the inside of that place looks like, but mistakes ensure due to that very wrong heart shape and lack of patterns on the wallpaper. I was lazy but hey at least I got that lamp thingy on the table right :))) As usual, the clothes are the focal point of my fanarts, "a beautiful deep blue, floor length dress, there was only one shoulder strap and a lace veil came from it all the way to the floor behind his shoulder" and "freshly pressed black suit with a deep blue tie that matched Angel's dress". Husk's suit in this drawing is not actually black but a mix of ultramarine and sepia. I usually don't use colors straight out of the pan, but mixing them. I made an exception in this with the lake red color of Husk's wing. I forgot to draw the wings before I did the line art, so I need the color at its strongest to cover the line art which was not supposed to be there.  

My tools still include pencil and Leningrad watercolor. I have been using that watercolor set for over 10 years and it is still the best watercolor set I have ever had. This time I use the Blue Uni-ball pen by Mitsubishi Pencil instead of black M&G gel pen. The line art looks much smoother and the waterproof blue ink added a nice touch to the drawing. I expect nothing less from one of the best pen manufacturers out there. 

[the-ace-with-spades]

bro… BRO…… i NEED you to write a part 2 to the hangster hs au it was SO GOOD

You ask and you shall receive (kinda? this is what I imagine happened after)

(I love high school aus so much, I just don't have time to write it all properly 😭)

link to kinda part 1

Bradley realizes he's an idiot as soon as he hangs up with Nat and even more realizes he needs to talk to Jake, now. He wants to talk in person just so he can explain to Jake that he was very unaware until this evening but he'd still very much like to be his boyfriend and go to prom to him and everything that follows.

He takes Mav's motorcycle (without permission) and drives to Jake's house. It's already quite late but he can't see the light in Jake's bedroom upstairs so he knocks on the door.

Jake's mom opens the door and when he says that, you know, it's late but he'd like to just quickly tell Jake something, his mom tells him they're having a family night tonight and whatever it is can wait for school tomorrow.

So Bradley gets back home, gets grounded by Mav (and discreetly ungrounded by Ice within the same fifteen minutes, because Ice is soft), and tries to fall asleep but he's jumping out of his skin because suddenly he really, really wants to kiss Jake and hold his hand and maybe hold him, actually, in his arms, for as long as he lets him.

He drives to Jake's house in the morning to pick him up like he always does on Fridays and Jake's mom tells him he's already out, taking his sister to school. Jake didn't text him about it so Bradley texts him to ask if everything is okay with him but doesn't get the reply.

They meet in front of the school, at their usual waiting spot.

Bradley barely manages to get into Jake's hearing range and some guy from Jake's football team comes up to them and starts chatting and Bradley holds back from physically shutting him up because he needs to talk to Jake and he can't do it with people around.

"Hey, now that everyone knows you and Bradshaw aren't together-together, I thought maybe you could go—"

Bradley knows where he's going and hell no.

He grabs the guy by his shoulder and squeezes, nails going through the jersey, smiling through his teeth at the guy.

Jake, bless his heart, entirely not focused on anything today, just asks, "Huh?"

Bradley gives the guy a reminder squeeze and lets go, clapping him on the back a bit too hard, until he clears his throat and mutters, "Nothing, nothing. I'll see you around, dude."

By their lunch period, he had to dodge four other people who wanted to ask Jake to prom — two girls who Jake would've said no to, anyway, because he's gay, and a guy from Bradley's baseball team, a guy from their sophomore art class, and two guys Bradley has never even met — and thank fucking god they had most of their classes together.

He was planning on asking Jake out after school, when they finally had some time alone, but there are two periods they don't have together and around two hours after with their sports team before they finish and he's not taking the chances.

So when Jake grabs his lunch from his locker, Bradley takes him by the hand and walks them between the crowd until they're in the music rehearsal room.

Until his junior year, Bradley was the main pianist for their theater club. At times when it was premiere season, Bradley would sit in the rehearsal room, learning to play new songs, and Jake would sit on the floor next to the piano and study. Usually, before they left, Bradley would check his English homework.

"What are we doing here?"

Suddenly, Bradley is really nervous — what if he's reading it all wrong? What if it's just him? What if Jake changed his mind and doesn't want to go to prom with him or be together?

So instead of spilling the beans, he says, "Thought we could come here for old times' sake."

He closes the piano cover and Jake sits down next to him on the bench. When he takes out his lunch, he hands Bradley a couple of honeycomb cookies his mom must've made. He's not looking at Bradley, uncharacteristically quiet like he's been the whole day.

He doesn't know how to start so he says, begging Jake to look him in the eyes the whole time, "I told Mav about the yearbook thing."

"Yeah? He must've laughed his ass off too."

"No, he actually thought—he thought you were my—my boyfriend, for real."

Jake fidgets, sliding a couple inches away and still not looking at him. Bradley tries not to panic. "Ridiculous, right? That anyone could think that."

Bradley tries to breathe. Tries to push the words out. "I mean, is it really? I mean, you're—and I'm—"

Jake glances at him, just for a second and that meadow green is gone, and god, he hopes he's right about this.

"We kind of—fit together, right? We wouldn't be friends if we—That's not what—" He hates this. "I wouldn't mind being more than friends."

"Best friends?" Jake questions, turned to him but still not looking at him.

"No, I mean, more than that."

Jake's breath hitches and he can see his chest puffing as he holds it in. "Like—a couple?"

"Yeah, one most likely to get married, if you want—"

Suddenly, he's got an armful of Jake pressing into him and he barely manages to hold them both from rolling off the bench.

Jake is speaking into his neck but he can hear the smile in his voice. "You want to be together? And date? And go to prom? And—"

"That was the next thing was going to ask before someone crushed me."

He snorts, into Bradley's shoulder, and Bradley could fucking burst out of happiness. "Are you calling me heavy?"

"I'm calling you a guy who tackles other guys to the ground well enough to have a scholarship for it." He lets himself tuck his nose into Jake's hair, the smell of strawberries and mango of his sister's shampoo calming him down. He's never been close enough to smell it so intensely. "So, prom, right?"

"I'm choosing your tux. And your tie."

(sorry, this is where we're ending, it wasn't much I'm afraid)

[shiraishi--kanade]

If any writer here wants to torture Touya with new and inventive ways classical background/Harumuchi specifically could limit him in performing, or otherwise possible scenarios, here's some fun ideas under the cut for you.

1) Memory slips. Harumichi method of teaching was (bad) to start the piece from the very beginning the moment Touya made a mistake. While that probably reflected poorly on Touya's ability to roll with mistakes in general, I think it would be most prominent with memory slips.

With performing, especially solo, the moment your next movement slips your mind, recovering is very difficult. The stress response from your brain actually stops you from thinking rationally, so you begin to panic more and more the more you hesitate. Because of this, many classical and all sorts of performers practice getting "unstuck". There are different methods, but most agree that you should have a check-point in a piece that you know you can come back to if you mess up. More advanced players usually think that "your checkpoint should be everywhere", i.e you should be able to start playing from literally any place in the music on a whim - so if you make a mistake, you can recover easier.

Im general, only learning to play the whole piece and re-starting if you make a mistake will damage that precious skill critically. If Touya is so used to drilling everything to perfection, he's not used to the idea that you should just keep going. He probably didn't need to, either.

Imagine Touya just. Forgets his lyrics and instead of ad-libbing them he just. Stares blankly, freaking out.

2) Loud audience. Double for autistic/neurodivergent Touya and the possibility of sensory overload. The audience during classical concerts/recitals is very quiet. You're not supposed to clap, cough, much less talk or yell, until the piece is over.

Adjusting from that to how loud the livehouse is, and the fact that that loud is a good thing that he should enjoy, could potentially be a rough ride for early Bad Dogs Touya.

3) In a similar vein: actually having to move during performing. Canonically, Touya isn't the most athletic person, but I don't even mean that in that way. More of a... Touya is a pianist. He's also a violinist, but primarily, he is a pianist. All he does there is sit. His position is clearly defined, he knows his role. Even with violin, you don't really move much while playing.

Singing at a livehouse is different. Where is he supposed to go? When should he dance? When to call out to the audience? How mindful he should be around equipment? Touya and measuring the size of the stage by pacing back and forth so he doesn't run into a wall on accident while still getting used to the fact that just standing on stage is no longer acceptable.

These are just something from the top of my head! I think it would be interesting to see those details, but I don't think Sega would show us, haha.

[souvenir116]

Hun, I am supposed to be asleep, but, but, hear me out. Pianist Charles and photographer Max? Seems weird, but in my mind, it works somehow.

Like, maybe, Charles had this small performance/gig, and Max just so happened to be there for the night after days of being in an uninspired slump or whatever. And so he feels inspired, takes pictures and stuff, posts them online, the blow up, you know the usual. It ends up benefiting them both. They have this whole "we should work together" and then, after spending so much time together it's like "well I like you a lot but our whole relationship is built on just using each other so would we even work outside of that?"

Don't know if I made any sense lmao 😭 Anyhow, have a great day/night hun 🩶

STOPPP THATS PERFECT!!! Omg I'm in love with the trope of "we are actually madly in love with each other but we act like it's only for pr/ oh we are only friends of course!!"

Max being gone for Charles when he plays the piano, the passion, the serenity his aura carries as he focuses on his songs, long slim fingers, frowning slightly in concentration, and Max just- he's dead on his spot when his eyes find Charles in that huge crowded event, seeing him so effortlessly giving life to melodies, and he's mad gone from that moment.

Also him finding inspiration in Charles after days of being stuck <3 [just say I love you idiot!!]

They are working together because they both want to be good on their careers and rise ☹️☹️ They are making promo vids and Charles sometimes plays piano for Max because Max excuses it as if he wants to buy a small thing and need quick money, so they will shoot a vid, but in fact all he wants to do is watch Charles play love songs to him all night near balcony, as he watches the love of his life composing songs for him with the summer breeze washing over them 🥺🥺🥺 Maybe Charlie needs a strong big man to help him to carry when he finally is able to afford a piano for his house 🥺🥺 he immediately calls Max without a second thought

Maybe Max sometimes gets so distracted by Charles' beauty, instead of piano pics/vids, that his camera roll is full of Charles' dimples from very close up, his pretty green eyes when he looks so fond at Max, and when Max sits on his bed one day to go through the photos he had taken, he sees the pictures Charles took while Max is asleep next to him, as he smiles while laying on Max's chest and smiling like a little baby menace 🥺

Until one of them loses control and gives up on this silly game to kiss the other on the lips!!! then they realize, oh they cant stop 🤭

this is so beautiful just as you love 🥺🥺 you and your magnificent fic ideas, I'm sure it'll be a masterpiece under your pen that you'll do it hella justice ❤️❤️ wishing you a peaceful sleep and kissing the tip of your nose <3

[akitasimblr]

DAVID HARPER, ERNEST HARPER, QUEENIE HARPER & ALANA WEST-HARPER - FOR @flocy-sims LEGACY

i am sending you the twins david harper & ernest harper, queenie harper and alana west-harper for your legacy, let's hope they behave! more about them below.

david is a rebel. He does not have a determined direction; he goes where the wind takes him. It’s easy to find him crashing at his sister or twin brother’s house after some crazy night in san myshuno. He will settle eventually, just not sure when. He is not drawn to romantic relationships, it actually requires a lot of friendship and intimacy (and not strictly in the physical sense) for him to fall for someone. David does not believe in love at first sight, for him love has to be nurtured and cared for in the long run. He’s not a one-night stand kind of guy. Right now he still lives at his parents’ house in Britechester and after much parental pressure he finally got a part-time job as barista. You can say he is not the ambitious type. He loves a good laugh and a bit of mischief to color our lives. He is a geek for video games and he - might - indulge in some hacking as well. Which reminds me of a story he usually boasts about of when he got inside the landgraab’s system… oh! wait! that’s a secret!

ernest is an acclaimed musician. He has an identical twin named David. He is a virtuoso pianist and violinist and plays in the worldwide known Simsonian Orchestra. Ernest loves all classic and baroque music and it’s hard to find anything he loves just as much. For an outsider, Ernest has an enviable life, he has achieved professional realization, he travels all around the simlish world with the orchestra, he does what he loves but Ernest Harper is a sad, unhappy soul. He had his heart broken and he has never been able to fall in love again. He has been a loner. Ernest has a timid, gloomy character. But Ernest’s gloomy soul hides the most tender, sensitive and loving character, if only one knows how to break his walls…

queenie was born amongst the rich and famous society of del sol with both of her parents being renowned actors. she was always very pampered as a kid and everyone thought she’d follow her parents’ example and become an actor. but no. her tastes and talents led her to another branch of the movie industry: designs and wardrobes.  queenie has an exquisite obsession with anything fashion related and she is brilliant at what she does.  sweet queenie might be vain and perhaps too self-conscious of her public image; but she’s a kind soul with the patience of a saint. mark my words, this girl knows how to keep a secret, she’s the best confidant you’ll ever find, if only you show she can trust you. 

alana west-harper is the mischievous kind. she got that from her dad, i bet! alana is an expert in all fandoms you can think of. even those underground, alternative, sketchy fandoms no one knows about? well, she knows! alana is the ultimate geek. alana went to foxbury university to study villainy and oh my watcher! she graduated with honors. i expect great things from this girl... like worldwide robery kind of greatness, you know? but don't get me wrong, she is not evil, okay? she just likes to do things her way. and sometimes 'her way' does not exactly mean lawful... but hey! she gets things done in the end of the day!

[japhan2024]

Anthony's Day prompt: Anthony/Amanda/Ian where in Ian realizes he likes both Amanda and Anthony because they look like each other.

Your kiss is on my list

Read on AO3

Words: 1.485

Inspired by this song

Amanda is over at Ian's place because she promised during lunch she'd watch The Pianist with him. This is why people don't sit next to Ian. He will convince them to suffer through extremely depressing war movies while he probably enjoys it.

It's quite inappropriate too, being over, alone, at her - very handsome - boss's home, at night. She texted her husband she was working overtime. Which is so much worse. She is contemplating submitting this situation to r/aita.

But Ian snaps her out of it.

"Hey, Amanda, you looked really serious right there, are you okay? Do you want something to drink? To smoke, maybe?"

The problem is Amanda really wants to relax. Should she, though? She usually struggles to contain her feelings and impulses as it is...

"Ooh! Do you have a vodka martini?" She says it with her signature wide eyed, Kramer-esque demeanor.

Ian smiles closed-mouthed and scuttles to his kitchen. "A classic drink for a classy lady," he jokes.

Amanda's mind is racing. "Is this okay? It's okay, right? It's a bit weird but then again, everything at Smosh is always weird. Nobody not working here could understand..."

"Mister Hecox," she involuntarily goes along with the bit. She can't help that she is such a great improv actress. "I didn't expect anything less from a Renaissance man like yourself."

"Renaissance man?" Ian scoffs, returning to the living room, handing Amanda her drink.

"I don't know, I'm just trying not to freak out! Aa! I'm watching a movie with Ian! I've wanted to see your house for a while now, you really got a nice place here!"

She puts down her empty glass in the window sill.

"Am I such a terrible person to watch a movie with?" Ian asks, still smiling. But then he suddenly pouts a bit. "I probably am, aren't I? Do I make you uncomfortable, Amanda?"

Seeing Ian vulnerable like this destroys all of Amanda's self-restraint and critical thinking abilities. She grabs Ian's arm and rubs it.

"NOOO are you kidding, Ian? You could never! You're way too sweet. I'm really glad I'm here with you. We don't get enough us-time at the office anyway." Something about the way she says this makes Ian's eyes widen ever so slightly behind his glasses, and his pout disappears.

They are just standing there like dumb idiots, Ian looking away as Amanda desperately seeks eye contact.

The door of Ian's apartment opens.

"Hey, Ian, I just came back from se- Amanda?"

They both are startled, and the visitor maybe even more so. "What's going on here?" He asks, unsure.

"Anthony!!! Fancy seeing you here, hahaha... yeah! Uhh, I kinda promised I'd watch a movie with Ian. Yeah! So that's why I'm here, I GUESS!"

Terrifying. Anthony gives her a look that tells a whole story. Anthony doesn't want her to be there, Anthony doesn't want her and Ian to do anything together. Anthony is jealous. Jealous? Why? Of course, she knows why. She looked it up.

Anthony recovers from his initial reaction and smiles warmly, hugging Amanda and Ian. "You promised you'd watch a movie with Ian? Rookie mistake, Amanda! You should know better. Now he won't let you go until you watched all of Band of Brothers. Or the entire Twilight saga, I don't know which genre he's hooked you on."

"You like Twilight?" Amanda is happily distracted from the whole moment they are having and tries to wrap her mind around Ian liking teen vampire movies.

"To each their own, Amanda," Ian plays defense. "They're good movies, actually." Anthony laughs. Amanda joins in.

"Oh I know, I've seen them! Just didn't think you'd like them too!"

"Uhh, yeah, so I'm just gonna chill here for now..." Anthony sits down in the middle of the couch, massively manspreading like he feels right at home here. He probably does as he even has the keys to the place.

To Amanda's surprise, Ian sits down next to Anthony and starts showing him memes on his phone. No "Hi Anthony" or anything. Just straight down to the bullshit they pull at the office as well.

Amanda sees two grown men SO obsessed with each other they forget the world around them altogether.

She makes herself another martini and downs that one in one go as well. Should she just go? It's probably the best idea.

"Amanda! You need to see this," Ian giggles. Anthony is wheezing.

"I don't know if I do," Amanda teases. Third-wheeling an Ian and Anthony date when she could be at home with her loving husband was not on her bingo card for today.

"Oh by the way, Ian, tell me again about that crush you had on that girl?" Anthony says all innocently, but Amanda senses some hostility from Anthony. At her?

"Uhh, what? Which one?" Ian lowers his phone and looks at Anthony.

"You know the one with the tats?"

"Oh yeah! Oof, she is so hot, oh my god, I'm so into tattoos..."

Anthony smiles at Amanda. He's so evil. But two can play this game, Amanda thinks. And she's not one to shy away from anything, certainly not this shit.

"I'm thinking of getting a tattoo," she says while sitting next to Ian on the very end of the couch. "Where do you think I should set it, Ian?"

Ian is immediately engaged. He scans Amanda's body with a pondering look. Behind him, Anthony's annoyed noggin sticks out. Amanda stifles a laugh.

Before Ian can decide about the place of Amanda's first tattoo, Anthony jumps up from the couch and back into the game.

"I don't know Amanda, maybe you want some inspiration?" And he takes his shirt off. Well damn. He's extremely fit and those tats look unfairly good. But now Amanda is alone with her TWO bosses in various states of undress! She can't wait to tell Angela about this...

Ian stands up and looks at Anthony's tatted back. "Amanda," he beckons her. "These new ones are so badass, " and he traces a particularly crisp line over Anthony's skin. Anthony naturally leans into Ian's touch but stops again, glancing over at Amanda.

FUCK! Now she's witnessing her bosses do some kind of FOREPLAY.

"Oh sure, they really are!"

The alcohol finally kicks in. Amanda gets up and lets her flannel shirt fall low off her shoulders, revealing her mostly bare back to Ian as well.

"Where on my back should I get the tattoo?" She asks playfully. "The same place as Anthony?" She turns her head towards Anthony and wiggles her eyebrows at him like she's Macaulay Culkin.

"Hmm," Ian thinks out loud. He gently touches Amanda's bra strap, then strokes down to her lower back... what the fuck is happening? A bolt of electricity runs through Amanda's body, it feels so good but wrong at the same time.

"You look so similar, did you know?" Ian says suddenly.

"What?" Anthony asks. "Similar?" Amanda looks over her shoulder at Ian.

"Your skintone, hair color, your big ass egos," Ian glaughs. "Your eyes, your smile, should I go on? I only now just figured it out. You're both my type." And then he laughs as if he just made the best joke.

"But," Anthony walks around the side table so is was facing Ian, "I know you way longer than you know Amanda. So that's different." He doubles down on staying topless.

Amanda simply twirls around and pulls her shirt back up, but not before flashing Ian a little cleavage.

"True," Ian answered. "But it does feel like I have known you for ages as well, Amanda. One day you showed up at Smosh, you kissed me and here we are!"

Of course. Amanda started all of this. The awkward gray area between coworkers and 'friends' and sexual tensions and halfway cheating on her husband, or is it even halfway? "Why do I always kiss people..." she thought to herself.

Anthony is not happy. "Oh, this is all about your dick again. Haven't we been here before? Haven't we talked through that we're not letting relationships come between us anymore?"

Ian looks a bit nervous now. That does it. Amanda beats him to answer Anthony. "THERE IS NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN IAN AND ME!" She bolts for the door. "I AM GOING HOME TO MY HUSBAND NOW! I AM NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH IAN!!!" She desperately struggles to open the door. "Bye now, I love Smosh. See you at work." Shit, she used the iconic phrase Shayne said to Court and they are married now.

When she's outside, she collapses on the ground. "What did I get myself into?!" But then she can't help but overhear through the way too thin door of Ian's apartment.

"Anthony, of course I love you the most, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid, just staking my claim."

"I think you scared Amanda away."

"Good. I think you were on to something though. She did kiss you... first."

"Anth... mmm?" Soft noises ensue, of two people staggering toward the bedroom, soft laughter and- Amanda almost has a heart attack when she thinks she left her phone in the apartment, but then she finds it in her purse. She calls an Uber while fleeing downstairs.

Well, Ian has a type, apparently. And maybe in another life, her and Ian... but in this life, no way. Anthony has staked his claim, as he said. Are her bosses a 'thing' now? It sounded like it... And Amanda isn't even available. This was just a mistake on her part. One thing is for sure: she's never sitting next to Ian at lunch again.

[cha-melodius]

hot pianist ass wip pls what's going on there

HI ROOP! So, hot piantist ass wip, which does not yet have a name (except maybe now it does lmaooo), is an AU I dreamed up one night while I was at the symphony listening to Tchaikovsky's first piano concerto. Alex is the conductor/music director of the Austin Symphony and Henry is a guest piano soloist performing Tchaik 1 with them, and of course they have some bad blood in their background so they don't work well together until they sort that out.

Guest soloists are usually only around for a couple of days before flying off to the next city, and Henry is of course very hot shit and in demand, so all they get it one amazing night together and then everything is long distance pining for a while. But THEN, Henry convinces Alex to apply for a conducting fellowship/residency with the NY Phil without telling him that he's also going to be an artist-in-residence there, and that leads to some angsty exchanges, like this bit of dialogue:

A: how long have you known about this? H: that it was a possibility? Since before I sent you the job ad. I was in NY finalizing everything during your interview. A: and you never said anything. H: I didn’t want to jinx it. Nor did I want to sway your decision to apply. A: what if I hadn’t applied? H: someone from the orchestra was going to reach out to you. A: you’re telling me that the NYPHIL knows who I am? H: why wouldn’t they? And when I told them about your season— A: wait. Is that why I got an interview? Because you told them they should? H: of course not A: I don’t need you pulling strings to get me a job, Henry. I have a very good one

Fun fact there's not actually an ending in my outline for this one, I wrote it all (including a fair amount of dialogue) in a mad haze after that first concert and I've never returned to it lmao. Some day!

[Ask me about my badly summarized WIPs]

[bahrtofane]

Aurélien but you’re a violist hired as entertainment for the vip lounge and he just so happens to be out on injury and has so much time to kill before the game actually starts

so he does his usual rounds of saying hi to people. taking pictures, grabbing a quick bite to eat, before he sees you

standing near one of the large windows over looking the pitch, piano behind you, playing a melody he can’t get enough of

you come here often orrrr…?

he decides no not say that. instead sitting at a table that near enough to you, watching you swag with each swell of the music, digging into the strings so harsh at times plums of rosin fly off

you take short break now and again, leaning against the piano as you hold your bow and violin in one hand, water in the other

you seem to be nodding along to whatever the pianist is saying, pointing at the pile of paper that rests above the white keys as your accompanist takes a pen to the paper, writing furiously

Aurélien is itching to say something, anything. he wants to talk to you so bad it’s almost embarrassing.

you’re so good and you make it so effortless. he plays too !! he wants to say. he’s pretty good at piano !!

a voice in the back of his head is telling him to learn violin next. another voice is telling him you’re too beautiful to be ignored by half the people in this longe. and a third says to get your number asap

he only swallows his daydreams and mental scolds his brain for conjuring up these ideas. choosing to sit and watch you shake the tension from your shoulders and get back into position

you look best when you play he decides. eyes closed half the time while the music carries you

time is running out (how long has he been here listening to you play ?) but he feels like it would be far too rude to just interrupt you. another time maybe

he gives you a small smile as he gets up from his seat, trying not to keep his gaze on you for far too long.

he so needs to find a way to talk to you

[yakool-foolio]

do you have any mundane hcs for anyone? i just like hearing peoples hcs about the mundanities of characters lives instead of the bigger more common things people usually talk about

Daily life headcanons are always good to have, they're simple but sweet, like sprinkles on an already delicious cake! Seemingly insignificant additions to characters have a purpose of increasing relatability or fondness for them. Excusing my babbling, I actually do have a few headcanons up my sleeve!

Halara offers to give Yakou candy cigarettes to help dissuade him from his bad habit of smoking, but unfortunately it never works cause they always try to make him pay for it, so the deals end pretty quickly

Vivia knows how to play piano and sometimes studies music theory and reads sheet music. He's hoping to use his skills as a pianist to help improve his self-expression

Zilch always shows his confident no-nonsense side around people, but when he's alone with his animals, he 100% baby-talks with them

Vivia and Fubuki paint each other's nails, it's their usual bonding time

Fubuki lovingly orders mandatory tea parties on occasion so the NDA detectives can all sit down together and socialize with one another after being split up from their private investigations

Yakou sometimes takes Yuma with him to visit the old arcade together so Yakou can teach him all his tips and tricks with his favorite games, and he's still got the skills to top the leaderboards after all these years

[abarbaricyalp]

I want to know more about the 40s AU, please 🙏🏾

Hey! WIP Game

Thanks for asking about this one! I've been holding this one close to my chest for a while now because I wasn't sure I was actually going to post it, but the more I work on it and love it, the more I think I will. I have literally checked out so many books on so many subjects for this fic. I've been watching documentaries and movies for months. I looked up fashion references even.

This is a fic set in 1947 that imagines that Bucky and Steve survived the war and also that Sam does, because in this AU he was a pilot with the Tuskegee Airmen. They meet at a jazz bar where Sam is singing with a band that Gabe is also performing with. They learn to trust each other and heal together while falling in love. It was supposed to just be "Bucky falls in love with jazz singer Sam" but now it's about music and race and queerness and disability and trauma and loss, and things that divide us and the things that make us the same.

I dunno maybe that sounds pretentious

.

“Sam!” Gabe whistled, dodging his way through the milling crowd, pulling Bucky with him by the shirt tails. Bucky batted his hand away as they slowed down so he could actually tuck his shirt back in. “Sam, hey! I want you to meet a friend of mine.”

Hanging off the side of the stage, the impossibly handsome, sad singer was chatting with the keyboardist and sharing a cigarette with him. Both men looked over at Gabe, then at Bucky. The singer’s eyes narrowed a little. He waited until Gabe was closer and then said, “I told you to stop bringin’ folks around.”

And Bucky knew exactly what he meant. He knew that he stuck out in this small club. He’d tried to argue with Gabe when they’d walked in but Gabe, as usual, was even more stubborn than Bucky.

“You still need a horn player on Friday?” Gabe asked in that way of his that said he already knew the answer and knew he had won. Bucky was too familiar.

Sam scowled at him. “You know I do. I wouldn’t have bothered you if I didn’t.”

“Then you’ll have to deal with him tagging along,” Gabe continued. “Bucky, this is Sam Wilson. Sam, this is Bucky Barnes. He was in the Howling Commandos with me. At Azzano with me,” he added meaningfully.

Sam’s expression only softened by a degree. “What do you know about music?” he asked.

Bucky’s gaze flickered around the club. He wanted to run, but Wilson’s gaze had him pinned down like a butterfly in a case. “You’re good,” he ventured. “Untrained, but good. You didn’t learn up here though. Cut your teeth somewhere else, right? You don’t sound like New York. And your band hasn’t caught up to you yet either.”

Gabe snickered beside him and clapped Bucky, then Sam by the shoulder. “I’m gonna go talk to D,” he said. “I’ll be back if I hear any glass breaking.”

Bucky and Sam both rolled their eyes. “I wouldn’t ruin my own club,” Sam said with something almost like a sneer, but too proud at the same time.

“It’s not your club, Sammy,” Gabe chuckled. “Delroy!” he called, waving a hand in the air and then beginning to weave through the crowd to reach the other trumpet player.

“You’re really good,” Bucky repeated after he couldn’t pretend to still see Gabe’s shoulders through the crowd. “You started with church music, right?”

Sam’s pianist had disappeared at some point, left Sam holding the cigarette. He took another draw off of it and seemed to be searching for a way out of this conversation himself. “Yeah. My daddy was a preacher. I was in the choir soon as I could hold a note.”

Bucky nodded. “I used to play piano for Steve’s…for the church my friend attended when we were younger. Fell out of it once I started working.”

Sam flinched as Bucky said it and his eyes went to Bucky’s missing arm. And Bucky, for the first time since he’d lost it, felt like someone actually saw what the absence meant, even in this small way. “Have you tried since?” he asked.

“Nah,” Bucky said, tried to play it off like his heart wasn’t desiccating in his chest. “I’ve never had my own and I ain’t been much of one for the clubs since coming back.”

“How?” Sam asked. His tone was a little sharp, but more in its confusion and a little bit of desperation than anger. “How could you stay away?”

“I guess I just ain’t like you,” Bucky admitted. “Music’s deep down in your soul. I can hear it when you sing. It wasn’t really like that for me. I just liked it. Like to listen to other people. Don’t gotta do it myself.”

Sam shook his head and leaned back on his hands, blowing a line of smoke towards the roof. “I thought I’d never want to sing again when I got back but as soon as I heard a saxophone, I needed to join in. Sometimes I wish I could quit. The noise, the crowds, this whole world, it’s all designed to fuck me up now, I think. But I can’t stay away.”

Bucky nodded. He hadn’t been out dancing since he’d gotten back and he was half terrified of what tonight was going to bring, but so far it had only kind of started to scratch at an old itch he had pushed down into the meat of him. Now it was rising back to the surface in an unignorable way.

“How do you know Gabe?” he asked, trying to drive the itch away again. “He mentioned he met you after the war.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He took another drag from his cigarette and blew it towards the ceiling again. On one hand, Bucky appreciated him smoking away from him. On the other, he kind of wanted Wilson to blow it directly in his face.  “I was a pilot. He was looking at the 332nd, trynna recruit us for some kind of special operations division he’s heading up. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he found me at a place like this and we got to talkin’ about other things. You know he was a horn player?”

Bucky nodded. “He kept his trumpet on him until we were captured,” he said. “Hell, it might still be with the military if anyone went to clean up our encampment,” he said.

“I’m sure Gabe’s already been botherin’ people trynna find out,” Sam snorted. He put out the cigarette in an ashtray on the stage, tucked up in the case for some stringed instrument that Bucky hadn’t seen. “You’re gonna keep comin’ around with him?” the singer asked as he got ready to stand again.

Bucky took a step back, though he wasn’t sure why. “I mean, I really wasn’t planning to, but you know how Gabe is,” he pointed out.

Sam frowned a little before he gave in. “I’ll make sure the guys at the door know to leave you alone.”

Bucky stopped himself from looking back at the entrance. He hadn’t noticed anyone when they’d walked in, but then he had come in with Gabe, so that was probably why. “This your club or something, Wilson?” he asked with a teasing kind of half grin.

“It’s close enough to home,” Sam said with a shrug. “I’ll see you around, Barnes.” He pushed himself to his feet and called over to his pianist and trombonist.

For the first time in a very long time, Bucky’s heart tripped in his chest in only a good way.

[ask-kooparadio]

Headcanon dump - Ludwig

Age - 23

MBTI - INTJ-T

His birthday is on december 16th

He most likely has Autism Spectrum Disorder - struggles to get along with others, has a few interests he's incredibly good in. His angry outbursts are actually meltdowns

He stims by walking around in circles, talking to himself, having that one song on repeat. Very subtle, but noticeable to people who are neurodivergent or live around autistics

He is sensory sensitive, which makes him extremely picky about how he's working, what he eats, and the texture of his clothing, which makes him really good at spotting counterfeit.

His special interests are art history, his piano, and magic history

He's the most powerful koopaling, whose magic proficiency challenges Kamek himself

Because of that, his weapon of choice is usually just his wand, however he does have a rapier and other "support", you can't just disarm him by stealing his wand

He doesn't have a speciality, if you'd ask him he'd tell you he's better at the history of magic than magic itself, just like any autistic person trying to convince you that they're not amazing at their special interest

The reason Koopalings have mixed feelings about calling Ludwig the clan leader are his social shortcomings. They worry that he may slip up on this, or that, and stain the reputation of the whole clan. Thankfully, as they grow, they realise that he needs them regardless, just as much as they need him. Both sides can ensure the other thrives.

His fashion sense is classic romantic goth, always wearing his fancy military coat and probably being the only Koopaling who wears the royal badge correctly

Speaking of his coat, he is a half parakoopa, hiding his wings behind it. The reason he reassigned himself from Pipeland to Skyland is the need to perfect his flying, or maybe something else (oc x canon warning lol)

His absolutely favorite season is winter, sitting at home to do his things, able to layer. Though the amount of holidays is kind of overwhelming, so maybe fall..

he's shorter than Roy, Morton and Iggy because of inheriting the parakoopa genes. Parakoopas are naturally smaller and more agile to use their wings the best as they can

He loves coffee, probably it's his only only safe food he can have in any way

He can't stand modern technology. If there's something that can be done manually, he'll use a typewriter, one of the tons of books he has, his room could easily pass for the 19th century reconstruction if we exclude the modern books. If he can't do it his way he either uses magic or asks Iggy if all the options involve it in some way.

Why does he hate it if his childhood self looved tinkering? Easy, 'Kooky' also hated modern technology and wanted to make his own

He's surprisingly the closest to Larry, a polar opposite to him. They mirror the need for approval, the youngest koopaling struggling to get any due to lack of skill, while the oldest struggles to take breaks in fear of becoming weak. Being around each other helps them find the healthy balance.

Considering he's a clan leader of the assassin group directly under Bowser and a renowned pianist, he is a workaholic, balancing his passions with his profession which often overwhelms him.

He can't stand physical touch, ESPECIALLY WITH HIS HAIR. This is the reason Kooky's hair was so messy, he would get a meltdown each time Bowser tried to detangle it. He may have few people he trusts like Larry or Roy, but it's an exception from the rule.

He's like a parental figure to the koopaling clan, though sometimes he may act more childish than them, which causes a ton of "I told you so"'s

He's the first koopaling to openly state his surname, Von. Koopas usually say their names in " name - surname - koopa" order, but other koopalings felt it was too obnoxious or were worried that by having the same surname as Bowser they'd get in trouble. Another I told you so, they were his nephews all along.

[atiny-for-life]

Creative Spotlight #8: Choi Jongho

Masterlist

Intro: With so many new Atinys coming in, I figured now would be a good time to shed some light on all the boys' creative solo projects over the years, big and small.

JongST

Jongho's a singer through and through, and launched his own cover series in 2020 where he traveled to the filming sets of his favorite dramas to cover the songs in his usual powerful and emotional fashion, proving over and over again how much he deserves all the praise he gets showered with:

The fourth episode is a special one, featuring Jung Seung Hwan, the original singer of the OST, and a little interview section in the second half of the video. It's very cute and Seung Hwan shares a little anecdote of Jongho approaching him in the past to give him one of their albums and being all sweet and shy about it.

The most recent JongST was released in 2022.

Other Cover Songs

In mid 2022, Jongho was invited to Leemujin Service, where he performed an acoustic cover of Turbulence and the most gut wrenching version of Don't Go Today (seriously, it's so gorgeous I've streamed it more than some actual comebacks):

Through his participation in Masked Singer, Jongho performed Swing Baby a year ago while (to my delight, Jinyoung and Hyunsuk from CIX were there) - it's a really fun and dynamic performance and you can tell the audience had a blast:

And while Ateez as a group have participated (and won) Immortal Songs on multiple occasions, Jongho also performed a solo there last year - So You. At the beginning of the last third of the song, there's a section where the instrumental just falls away and we're left with nothing but Jongho's voice and it's so damn powerful:

8 months ago, Jongho's cover of Park Hyo Shin's Wild Flower was uploaded, featuring Jongho in a unique setting: a circular room with a single spotlight shining down from above, illuminating just him and a pianist sitting at a grand black piano.

It's a stunning performance with a gorgeous explosive section in the second half:

Imitation Soundtrack

Like Seonghwa, Yunho, and San, Jongho was also a part of the Imitation cast but, unlike the other three, he was a member of the fictional group Shax, which most of us agree made better music in the show-verse. While they had multiple performances (all of them iconic), here are the two most famous ones:

Pentatonix Collab

In 2022, Yunho, San, and Jongho were invited to collab with Pentatonix on a song called A Little Space (featuring a Korean verse):

Original OSTs

About a year ago, Jongho performed his first OST live, Gravity for the show Reborn Rich - it's absolutely stunning and powerful with an explosive chorus and soft verses and I wish I could've heard it live when they were last on tour:

1 month ago, A Day was released for the show Lovely Runner which is, for now, his most recent OST release and (unlike Gravity), this song actually gets used well by the show and is played during many pivotal scenes (especially in the latter half of the show):