#especially the violin hickey

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

today I learned that there exists a thing called a “violin/fiddler’s hickey”, a reddish mark on the neck created by pressure that’s common among violinists or fiddlers

please know that Cheslock abuses this excuse all to hell

it’s like, what do you mean??? his S/O wasn’t snogging his neck last night, he was doing a lot of practice and that mark is from his violin!!

except, yanno, if his mouth moves he lyin-

#mod post #Cheslock #headcanons #THIS IS TOO FUNNY TO ME #ESPECIALLY THAT IT'S CALLED ''VIOLIN /HICKEY/'' #THIS MAN THIS ABSOLUTE LEGEND- #I have no idea how most instruments work I played flute for like four years but that's it #so I had to do research on violin playing for this request because why not and I found THIS #and I had to share because it's just too funny XD

[kaicubus]

Being with Victor Van Dort

₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ───────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ─────────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊

warnings ✩° : fluff headcanons, no cursing, sweet victor, some implied sexual headcanons but it's not a sexual movie i just LOVE victor so bad ugh i need him, kaicubus british accent.

pairing ✩° : victor van dort x mostly gn!reader

authors note ✩° : nothing is done about him so as usual, i'm stepping up to the plate. tall skinny emo boy IM COMING FOR YOU. why do i want to do more? thinks. i'm trying to get my halloween fics out guys i promise...

────────────────────────────────────────────

To say Victor would do anything for you in and outside of his power is such an understatement. He has such little power in what he does compared to other people, especially suitable bachelors, but he tries so hard with what he has.

You two meet because your parents need you two to be wed, so of course, he's a stranger. A very kind, and understanding stranger who at times feels like he's so brittle around you he'll break at any second.

He bumps into you? Victor scurries away. You look at him? Victor slams himself into the wall in the process. He kind of loses composure around you.

When he warms up to you eventually, Victor actually talks about his interests a lot. You find out he's an excellent musician, talented in piano and violin, an exceptional artist, and he's an avid reader who enjoys dark poetry.

He's still very insecure about the idea of you loving him or at least liking him, but he'll never bother you with questions because he doesn't want to seem needy (but he is so needy). If his insecurities do get the best of him, Victor will ask gently, "Do you actually like me? If not, I get it. I'm not rich nor strong enough to support and provide for us, I just want to be sure." Of course, you answer him honestly and he's over the moon when you tell him you actually do love him.

Victor notices things about you that no one else would notice, like the amount of moles you have on your left arm, if you prefer crowded areas or not, and if you cut your hair just a few inches to the point where it's not even that noticeable.

Speaking of, if you're ever at a ball or a place where there's a lot of people and you're not comfortable with crowds, Victor will take you away to a secluded area and calm you down from there.

He is overly apologetic. Sometimes it gets slightly annoying with how much he does it, but you never react negatively and always reassure him. Victor will apologize even if you're the one who caused something, blaming it all on himself so you don't feel bad at all.

Victor's love language is surely words of affirmation as he loves to give you endearing complements but also he feels good receiving them. He doesn't expect anything, because that's the least of your worries he thinks, but even so much as a simple flick of his hair and saying how nice it looks that day drives him absolutely mad.

However, when he compliments you, he's never short of charming. Victor catches you off guard sometimes when he reminds you how 'ravishing you look' or 'how you put the stars to shame with your glittering smile.' Usually he draws parallels with you and the stars, moon, sun, or flowers. He always makes you feel seen.

Naturally, as your husband, Victor is protective over you. He's never one to start a fight over a worthless scum trying to flirt with you, but he's not shy to let his presence be known and to grab you by the waist into his thin frame.

Calls you my love, darling, my beloved, and gorgeous.

Loves receiving. Victor will never ask anything of you, sure, but he won't deny it when it happens. He loves being kissed first, he loves being pulled down to kiss you, he loves being marked in hickeys especially on his collar bone, all of that.

One very specific thing is that Victor really enjoys dressing you and putting your makeup on. There's just something about the silent intimacy of sliding on your dress, gliding the thin fabric of tights on, tightening your corset, and delicately lining your lips with a dark, rose red lipstick that he loves so much. Even if he can't do the whole outfit, you'll still allow him to do your makeup or brush your hair.

Victor also likes things a very specific way. Not that he's controlling, he's far from it, but little things like overlined or underlined lipstick makes him fidgety. He'll swipe his thumb over your cupid's bow if that's the case and pretend like nothing happened.

He writes long, lengthy love letters. Sometimes explicit ones if he isn't there with you. He's uh, good at writing!

Victor shivers a lot. Take that as you will.

Loves painting portraits of you.

#kaicubus #corpse bride #corpse bride victor #victor corpse bride #victor van dort #tim burton #corpse bride fanfiction #corpse bride fic #corpse bride preferences #victor van dort x reader #victor van dort x you #victor van dort x y/n #preferences #headcanons #victor van dort headcanons #halloween #halloween fanfic #halloween writing #tim burton film

[onlyhoons]

PLEASE ANYTHING ZHANGHAO PLEASE you don’t understand how much this man has been on my mind and how much i actually need him i’ll settle for literally anything 😞

ofc baby, anything u want :3 i'll give u lil hcs for nowww cuz these have been sitting in my notes app for abt a while now.

hao looooves kisses. by an insane amount even. he trails kisses from your lips all the way down to your core. let alone your neck 💫💫... he is more of a kisses guy than a hickey guy, but not until you get him mad. the wet noises from his lips on your lips turn him on so much, especially when he uses those violin fingers to good use while kissing all over your jawline.

bathtub sex is a must, imagine bouncing up and down his cock as water splashes all around the place. his hair all messy and wet similar to yours. your moans bouncing around the echoey walls. him dragging you out of the bathtub to fuck you on the cold bathroom floor. ^^

handjobs > blowjobs for hao. he wants to kiss u while you jerk him off :( he cant live without your lips, but he goes absolutely insane if you start kissing his cock with your plump lips, makes him wanna grab a handful of your hair and just use you however he likes. the only reason why he prefers handjobs more is only because he knows he cant help himself once his cock is in your mouth. not unless you tell him you like it that way :) he goes all out.

#iswear #z and ; zb1 #z and ; asks #z and ; smut #zerobaseone smut #zb1 hard hours #zerobaseone hard hours #zb1 smut #zhanghao smut #zhanghao hard hours #hao smut #hao hard hours #zhang hao smut

[v-enable]

*ੈ✩‧ nsfw headcanons ;

cate blanchett characters (wlw)

- female partner - they/them pronouns.

carol aird (carol, 2015)

- not a big fan of toys, she believes that skin contact is much more intimate and meaningful.

- ceo of scissoring and eating pussy.

- master in guiding masturbation.

- fingers her partner once in a while, not always because she likes to keep her nails long.

- will take advantage of her long nails and skillful mouth to mark her partner with scratches and hickeys. she'll say it wasn't on purpose, but it actually was.

- she won't admit it but she's extremely possessive, and that's why she's loves to leave her marks.

- she praises and sweet talks to her partner all the time, making sure they know how much she loves them.

- definitely a top, but a bottom for abby.

- not necessarily horny 24/7, but will certainly provoke her partner every chance she gets.

- basically vanilla, but never gets her partner bored in bed because they're always trying new positions and ways to make love.

- yes, making love (not fucking because she's a gentleman)

lou miller (ocean's 8, 2018)

- KINKY AS FUCK!!!

- likes to be called daddy.

- always wears a strap-on when she goes out with her partner, so she can fuck them in public.

- loves to punish partner with butt spankings just to see their flesh getting red to her hard strokes.

- overstimulates partner with vibrators until they're crying and begging her to stop.

- squeezes partner's throat just to see their desperate facial expressions.

- not ashamed to be vocal in bed, always blessing partner with her deep voice moans.

- her love language is talking dirty and degrading (and expensive gifts ofc)

- a top. period.

lydia tár (tár, 2022)

- 100% top and dom.

- loves to receive strap-on blowjobs and asks her partner to spit it wet so it slides well inside their pussy.

- obsessed with rhythm, so she will always be consistent with her pace (especially if it's playing background music, she'll stroke by the tempo of it).

- not really kinky, but always rough.

- "what would've you be without me, baby? poor you."

- WILL spank partner with a violin bow at the minor inconvenience.

- likes to be called daddy, master, etc...

- adores partner's thighs and will often use them as pillow.

- likes to hear her partner sounds, that's why she never say no to a phone sex session (wich she'll probably be secretly recording).

lady tremaine (cinderella, 2015)

- will treat parter as a slave in bed (maybe not only there).

- 100% dom, mostly power bottom, but also tops.

- face slaps and hair pulling = ♡

- feet kink unironnically.

- penetrates strange random objects into her partner's vagina because it's funny.

- forces partner to suck her fingers, toes and eat cum (either hers of theirs)

brie evantee (don't look up, 2021)

- SLUT!!!

- horny. always.

- laughs during sex.

- has tons of fuck buddies.

- loves quickies during little work breaks.

sheba hart (notes on a scandal, 2006)

- pillow princess.

- not a vanilla but not too much into bdsm.

- always screwing someone too young or too old, there are no middle ground.*🚓*

- likes to be adored with words, gestures, touches...

- oral queen & cum eater!!!

daisy fuller (the curious case of benjamin button, 2008)

- likes to have passionate sex while she's high.

- has a flexible body, which allows her to be bold when it comes to positions.

- loves to strip tease and lap dance.

jasmine (blue jasmine, 2013)

- very vocal during sex (i mean she almost wake up the whole neighborhood with her loud ass moans).

- fucking with tons of jewelry on and feel the cold temperature of it on warm skin>>>

- she also likes expensive hotel rooms with nice bedsheets.

#cate blanchett #carol aird #carol 2015 #tár #ocean's 8 #lou miller #lady tremaine #cinderella #notes on a scandal #don't look up #the curious case of benjamin button #blue jasmine #wlw #ns/fw #hcs

[cat-vase]

Hellooo. I came here to ask away about Metals Family!! Sooo, any ships you're into apart from Vicky/Glam? Do u like ChesGlam romantically? Maybe you've heard about Anna/Vicky? I'm personally VERYYY into VickyChesGlam as a polyamorous ship! I've drawn them SO muchh. I just think Ches as a father figure for the kids is so so adorable, plus the dynamic between Ches and Vicky??? The POTENTIALL??

Yesterday at work I literally thought about Ches and Glam doing the tango together (one of THE most romantic dances, I headcanon Ches to be Hispanic like a lot of other people), I love them so much YESSSSS!!!!! And during it I think it was Glam who whispered to Ches that if he could have Vicky as his wife and Ches as his husband/boyfriend he would be the luckiest man in the world. So then they both talked to Vicky about trying out a poly relationship -- Are you reading my mind??????

So YES on Glam/Ches (especially when they're kids I think it's cute, in high school I had this friend who literally gave me a hickey but we weren't dating. Them energy. But like... they don't even have to be romantic to be the best you know what I mean?) And YES on Glam/Vicky/Ches and YESSSSS on Vicky/Ches I think it would be really interesting since obviously Vicky doesn't meet Ches until later in life and she knows he means a lot to Glam and Glam means a lot to HER so!!!! aaa!!!! Them just.... slowly coming together over the man they both love and finding out they also love each OTHER AA!!!!!! There's art somewhere of Glam and Ches kissing Vicky on the cheek because she deserves to be appreciated I'll try and find it!!!!

I don't think we know enough about Anna yet for her to be shipped with anyone? We don't know a whole lot about anyone other than Glam and a little bit about Ches right now (that isn't an insult, just the series isn't finished yet). But i think it's really implied that Anna is a lesbian or maybe bi with a super female lean? (Good!!! If there's more to her besides being mean) And if Anna and Vicky are childhood friends like Ches and Glam....... idk I think that's really interesting! And also that would make Vicky and Glam so SO bisexual. bi4bi fuck yeah

Speaking of Anna i need Glam and Anna interaction right now RIGHT now!!!!!! Anna and Vicky are friends, Anna and Ches are implied to be friends with benefits, so that leaves Glam!!!! and his super weird self!!!!

Glam has an electric violin shut up. And he uses it to impress his future-wife even though she's not a music person. And that's how he and Anna learn to tolerate each other, like how she said she tolerates Heavy in canon. Because he makes Vicky happy and she wants Vicky happy too :)

CHES BEING A FATHER FIGURE TO HEAVY AND DEE.... T-T I loooove him as the weird fun uncle-dad who used to have so so much energy but now he's just chilling. But also he KNOWS. He totally knows Dee sneaks out and he knows all of Heavy's school crushes and the cat he smuggled into his room (it just sounds like something Heavy would do). Ches acts oblivious but he notices things just like Glam does! And unlike Glam he actually lets himself feel his emotions! And that's why I like thinking about them together!!! And Ches and Vicky together!!!! They're all so good ack!!!!!!

Note: I wrote most of this while I was at work again (on break!) so it was like... 2am please forgive me if this is rambling. I have more but I need to pace myself haha :3 Please talk to me more aa!!!!! I love this little family !!!!!!

#NEED TO THINK ABOUT VICKY/CHES IN MORE DETAIL..... #i didn't really go into details here aa sorry!!!! #again they r just.... in my brain... infected me.... x.x #metal family #ask #anonymous #IF UR THE ARTIST THAT DREW THE THING IM TALKING ABOUT BTW THATS SOOOO FUNNY?????

[sympatheticvibrationsfic]

Harp & Violin: Essentials and Quirks

LEVERS AND PEDALS

Both of these are mechanisms to allow the harpist to play accidentals (sharps and flats). On a lever harp, there is a lever corresponding to each string. These levers are found on the neck of the instrument. On a pedal harp, there are seven pedals corresponding to the seven pitch classes. The pedals are found around the base.

TUNING KEY AND TUNING APP

A tuning key is an important tool in every harpist's pocket. To tune a string, slot the key over the corresponding string's tuning pin on the neck of the instrument. Then, using a tuning app on your phone as a guide (yay, technology!), keep plucking the string and twisting the key until the string is in tune. Beginners might take at least 45 minutes to tune their harp, but over time, they can narrow that down to less than 10 or even five.

DOLLY / CADDY

You could technically carry a pedal harp with your bare hands. But to avoid any potential disasters, it's best to use a dolly. These are specially designed for harp transport and include straps so you can buckle in the instrument.

CAR

This screenshot was taken from the Harp Wiki, which has a whole page dedicated to a list of cars that are suitable for harp transport. It's serious business. Generally, the best cars for transporting harps are station wagons and vans. You can try to make it fit in a sedan, but... Yeah, just don't.

HAND CARE FOR HARPISTS

Most harp strings are thicker than guitar strings. Classical harp playing techniques also focus on plucking with the fingertips rather than with the fingernails or a pick. Add both of these up and it isn't unexpected for a player to develop calluses and blisters, especially if they don't practice that regularly. Keeping their hands moisturized is essential for harpists. Some like to apply lip balm to their fingers (especially the cuticles) before bedtime.

BOW

Bows may be small, but they can delay a whole orchestra's travel plans if string players aren't careful. Many antique bows are built with an ivory frog (that little bit at the end), which is illegal in most countries. Before the tour begins, musicians must give the transport team special documents so they can cross international borders with the bow. But that's also a pain in the ass, so most just leave that bow behind and bring one with a wooden frog instead.

ROSIN

Ah, the rosin... A staple in every string player's case, massively overused by beginners everywhere (I was one of those kids myself). You can always tell if someone's put more rosin than necessary because of the messy, white residue it leaves all over the violin. Basically, rosin is a type of resin. You rub it across a bow's horsehair to create friction between the hair and the string, which helps the sound resonate better while you play.

CHIN RESTS, SHOULDER RESTS, AND... HANDKERCHIEFS?

Playing without a chin rest these days is only really done by specialists who perform Baroque music (using antique instruments and period-accurate techniques). But shoulder rests are another matter entirely. They come in different types and shapes, depending on the player's preferred level of comfort. Some choose not to play with shoulder rests at all. You'll also notice some people using a cloth (i.e. world-famous violinists Midori and Itzhak Perlman); this method helps reduce friction between the violin and the neck. Also, if you sweat a lot, then your sweat won't get all over your million-dollar, 400-year-old violin.

FINE TUNERS

There are two ways to tune a violin: the pegs up top or the fine tuners on the tailpiece (as in the picture). Beginners always have four tuners installed, each corresponding to a string, because it's easier to tune with them. As your skills develop, you can gradually have these tuners removed. Most professionals leave the E fine tuner (rightmost) intact and tune with the pegs for the other strings. It's often a source of pride for a musician to have only one tuner left.

VIOLIN HICKEY

Violinist Nicky Benedetti doesn't look like she's having a great time in that picture, especially with those bruises. But they're not actually all that painful because those are violin hickeys. In the scientific community, the condition is called "fiddler's neck." A relatively harmless type of skin lesion, violin hickeys turn up because of constant friction between the player's skin and the violin. Some see it as a badge of honor.

STRING INSTRUMENT CARE

STRINGS

Violin strings "die" after a few months, depending on how often the instrument is played. Once they're worn out, the player has to change them (a process which might seem scary to novices, but only takes a few minutes). The good news about the harp is that harp strings don't "die" as quickly and can be replaced once a year. Of course, it becomes necessary if the string breaks. This can happen mid-performance (hopefully, without causing injuries from the string whacking you in the arm or the face) if there's too much tension on the string. For this reason, experienced players always keep spare strings in their pockets.

HUMIDIFIERS

Wood expands and shrinks depending on the weather and humidity levels, and wood instruments are no exception. When this happens, the instrument "throws tantrums" by staying out of tune or (in the worst case scenario) actually cracking open. It's vital to keep the instrument somewhere with a humidity level between 45% and 65%, but that's not always possible. That's why some players use dampits. These are portable humidifiers inserted into instruments with a hollow interior. As for the harp, a large humidifier for the whole room is recommended.

INSTRUMENT CHECKUPS

Luthiers are highly skilled craftspeople who build string instruments. Some of their workshops are centuries-old family businesses, with techniques passed down from generation to generation. Musicians visit their luthiers regularly for instrument checkups, which usually include an inspection of the most fragile parts and a thorough cleaning.

#references #one

[47crayons]

so, you want to write a musician?

about me: i play viola and have experience in symphony orchestras, string orchestras, string quartets (+ a few other small ensembles), and solo performances. i've done some light composition, and have friends/family who play other instruments. while my musical history is extensive, by no means do i know everything or speak for everyone.

this guide will focus on classical music/how to portray classical musicians and things that aren't as easily researched.

quick overview of instruments in a typical symphony orchestra

upper strings (violin, viola), lower strings (cello, (double) bass; i've seen viola included here too, but it's more commonly classified as upper strings)

strings also technically includes harp and piano

woodwinds (flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon)

depending on instrumentation, they may also have piccolo, english horn, bass clarinet, contrabassoon

saxophones are not traditionally in symphony orchestras due to it being a relative newer instrument! but this is changing because more contemporary composes are including sax parts

brass (trumpet, trombone, bass trombone, tuba, euphonium)

percussion (depends heavily on instrumentation, but common instruments are bass drum, timpani, snare, crash cymbal, xylophone, marimba)

some things you should research

where the hands are supposed to go!! i'd recommend you look at pictures of professionals in orchestra settings (ny phil, cso, berlin phil are all top tier). some musicians *coughs at yoyo ma* have less than perfect posture when they're performing solos (for the same reasons famous authors can break "rules")

necessary equipment including reeds, rockstops, different kinds of sticks/mallets, rosin, mouth pieces for whatever instrument you're writing

common misconceptions

loose/photocopied sheet music is not aesthetic—it's annoying and impossible to keep organized. folders and binders are fairly common especially when managing multiple ensembles.

original copies are often expensive and required to perform a piece (legally) for profit or otherwise (though i know a few people who have bent this rule)

not all performers are good composers (i myself have very little formal music theory training), but many composers have performance histories.

not all musicians can sing.

perfect pitch is both a blessing and a curse. notes can be slightly lower/higher but in tune with the context of the piece, which drives people with perfect pitch insane.

having perfect pitch does not guarantee someone will be a prodigy, and people don't need perfect pitch to be a talented musician.

drama in ensembles does exist, but it rarely gets in the way of rehearsal. same thing goes for good friends: if your characters have even a shred of common sense, they aren't going to be talking/messing around during rehearsal.

instruments (especially good ones) are extremely expensive. people very rarely store instruments on the wall or other displays for fear of falling.

instruments are very picky and require tuning every time. every time! it doesn't take long anyway. temperature and humidity can and will make instruments go out of tune or damage your instrument if not properly stored.

some people listen exclusively to classical music, but in my experience, that's definitely not the majority

like with anything, most musicians struggle with self doubt at one point or another.

musician culture

getting excited when we hear a piece we recognize

getting frustrated because we can't remember the name of the piece (after all, no lyrics to search)

being horrified when a non-musician actor is playing a musician. yes, we notice. yes, it's obvious.

if people are joking, it's likely to be about: violas (a quick search for "viola jokes" will tell you all you need to know) or trumpets (a reputation for being overly loud, playing and not)

putting stickers (places they toured, their orchestra, or just purely decorative) on cases is common, but not for everyone. same goes for pictures (of family, past concerts, or anything) on the inside.

scrambling for a pencil when the conductor says to mark something. pencils are a musicians best friend :D

asking (and forgetting) how to split double stops/two parts at the same time. sometimes one stand partner will play the top while the other plays the bottom, and sometimes this is split stand by stand.

this has NEVER resulted in a sexual top/bottom joke. please just. don't. also no g string jokes. it's just unrealistic.

awaiting the obligatory "it's one week before our concert, and you sound like this?!" lecture

not talking about music 100% of the time!!! they have lives outside of music (most of them, at least /j). especially to close friends, music is probably not going to be a conversation topic unless something is out of the ordinary (high stress, something funny from rehearsal, etc.)

bragging/talking about how often they practice is generally not welcomed. great, but other people don't need to hear it!

stages are hot and bright. there's no way a performer can see someone in the audience with the possible exception of the first row.

practicing

three words for you: love. hate. relationship.

slow practice (like really slow lots of people recommend half speed; good for focusing on the right notes, tone, phrasing, smooth transitions)

metronome practice (while playing, it's not annoying at all! it's helpful and requires a lot of focus; when NOT playing, it's annoying and loud because it needs to be heard over the playing)

drone practice (having a machine/website/another person play one note in the background; good for tuning and scales)

and too many more for me to detail

auditions

ensembles may have entrance auditions to determine who gets in and seating auditions to determine placement within the section.

adrenaline does not make us play better; it just makes us make mistakes. and then thinking about those mistakes causes more mistakes.

some instruments, especially those with less repertoire, have common excerpts that come up frequently (i can think of one in particular that i've played for three separate auditions this year).

stopping/starting over is not recommended ever, but if you do, it has to be 10x better. most audition judges aren't looking for perfection!! they want to see how your character can keep going after messing up.

sight reading (being given new music, having ~30 seconds to look at it, being asked to play) is never perfect. i don't care how talented your character is; if they think they nailed it, they aren't experienced enough to see all the phrasing/dynamics that they didn't incorporate. no one gets sight reading perfect!!!

perhaps most importantly, musicians are not all the same! they enjoy it for a number of different reasons and have diverse and interesting lives outside of music!!! more information about specific instrument groups under the cut :)

strings

callouses. with the exception of pianists, most string players (and especially professional ones) have callouses where they press down/pluck the strings. i also have one on my right thumb where i hold my bow. cellists and bassists might have them on their left thumb from playing higher notes in thumb position.

hickeys are also fairly common, though only some people get them. upper strings will get these by under their left jaw. cellists may have one from the wooden body resting on their sternum. some people (including hilary hahn and many many others) use a cloth for comfort and to prevent hickeys.

few people want a hickey, but it might suit a character who is constantly trying to prove themselves.

our fingers do not "glide" anywhere. you can get cuts/"string-burns" from pressing down too hard when shifting. cuts like those are the only reason someone's fingers will bleed, and it's rarer than you think.

upper strings are more prone to back/neck problems from the way they hold their instruments on one side. see also: shoulder pain.

finger cramps happen. they aren't too common, but most if not all strings have experienced at least one.

pianos require tuning every few years or else the chords will be out of tune. few pianists can tune their own instrument because of how complicated it is.

piano parts/accompaniments will have so. many. pages. a page turner may sit on the right of the pianist to turn the page.

woodwinds & brass

spit. so much spit. some instruments clean afterwards with a cloth; others have a spit valve which is as gross as it sounds.

proper embouchure, or how a musician uses the muscles in their face/lips, is tiring, and people actually get strong cheek muscles. they can also easily turn red, but it varies based on a person's facial complexion. see also: good lung capacity.

flute and piccolo are not dainty. piccolo requires as much air as a tuba. an old teacher of mine almost passed out playing piccolo when she was in college.

flutes and piccolos are high, but often not shrill depending on the level of the ensemble.

reeds last a few weeks (less if your character plays for hours a day) and can be expensive to buy.

keys and valves can get sticky especially on older instruments which can result in the wrong note or bad tone.

saxes, clarinets, flutes are more likely to "honk" on low notes.

oboes are more likely to feel "wispy" on high notes.

articulation comes from the tongue, especially for brass instruments, and conductors may ask for "tah" "pah" or "wah" sounds depending on the style of the piece.

percussion

callouses from the friction between hands and sticks/mallets.

there are so many types of sticks and mallets!!! make sure to take a look at what materials are good for what instruments/sounds.

cymbals, triangle, and bass drum are not easy to play, even though they look simple.

percussionists with the exception of timpani may play more than one instrument during a piece, and they're constantly moving around in the back during their rests.

percussion instruments are too expensive for most people to have everything they ever play. practice pads are very common in place of these instruments.

ability to play one instrument doesn't translate to different instruments. for example, many percussionists don't have experience playing set/drum set.

some of the things detailed here are heavily glossed over, so if you have any questions, i'd always be happy to talk about it with you; i may not have answers, but i will try to help as best i can!!!

since you read this far, have my favorite viola joke.

what's the difference between a violist and a large pizza?

a large pizza can feed a family of four :)

tagging some people who showed interest: @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @kg-willie @owilder

#writing advice #writing resources #writing reference #music #wow this absolutely consumed me

[narrators-journal]

Pheonix

CW: assisted masturbation? I dunno the term for it. Some poorly written justification to keep things a bit more dub than noncon.

Warning: here

Previous part: here

first part: here

For the next few days you were despondent and lethargic after your escape attempt, spending most of your time laying under your cover, hugging your pillow and staring at the wall away from the door under the dim light of your only light source above your head. Gogol would bring you food and water, even force feeding you when you refused to eat. You hated when he did that, you wanted him to let you starve, you didn't want to be held prisoner like this anymore. Were you into some dark kinks? Yes, leashes, collars, being owned, sure, hell even playing out some kidnap fantasies would be something you were up for, but that dark side to you did little to make you feel better  about being held in a basement for this long without going outside or even leaving the cage beyond going to the bathroom, which even than was in the basement and not in any other part of the house.

However, your luck was turning up slightly when Gogol returned and poofed into your cage to sit with you.        "Golubka, why are you being so glum? Is this because of me refusing to take you outside after you tried to run?" He asked, sounding upset and concerned, but you didn't look at him while he ran his gloved hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair as he spoke. "Golubka~ My lovely little bird~" He sang, leaning down and kissing your cheek and hooking his fingers under your cheek to turn your head to force you to look into his mismatched eyes, "Speak to me, Golubka," You gave him a dirty look, stubbornly not saying a word. When you did that, he sighed, letting you lay back as you were,        "How about we get you a bath, hm? Maybe that'll cheer you up." he offered, popping out of the cage and walking over to the little bathroom that was in the basement. You just curled up under your blanket, listening to the distant sounds of him running you a bath. Maybe he'll bathe me~ you thought, allowing yourself that little spark of horny joy at that thought, after all, those little fantasies would sometimes be the happiest parts of your day. However, you still refused to let the clown know you were thinking of him using this bath as a reason to grope your breasts or sit you in his naked lap and squish his dick between your thighs. Instead, you remained as silent as you could as he poofed you out of your cage and let you walk into the tiny bathroom with only a tub, toilet, and sink. He, sadly, didn't join you in the bath, he just sat outside the door and let you undress and wash yourself. On one hand, you were thankful he was at least a little respectful and not completely okay with invading your privacy and assaulting you, but on the other, you were slightly upset that he didn't at least try to do anything. Maybe I should get myself checked once I get out of here. You mused as you scrubbed your hair and thought about how you used your lust as a coping mechanism. Slowly, you washed yourself, allowing  those lustful thoughts to occupy your mind as you did so. Am...am I okay with being kidnapped and kept like a pet in the basement?  You eventually asked yourself, but further musings decided that no. You were attracted to Gogol, he was pretty, but wanting to sleep with him and not being against his lewd requests did not mean that you would not beat him to death with a baseball bat after a one night stand. You may have enjoyed sucking his dick, but you would run if you got the chance. While you were thinking of these things, you bathed, savoring the warm water and the lack of cold metal bars. Once you felt your concerns were thoroughly milled over, you let your thoughts turn back to thirsting over Gogol, closing your eyes and just letting your mind wonder. You sat in the bath for as long as you could, imagining him running his hands over your (s/c) skin, groping your thighs or breasts, kissing and biting along your neck, letting you stroke his member while he messed with you as well. Before you knew it, you felt someone's bare hands slide under  the hand you were using to mindlessly massage your own breast and than the one you were using to play with yourself, making your (e/c) eyes fly open again.          "My lovely little bird, if you were horny you could've just said~" The Russian purred, his thick accent and low growl sending shivers down your spine as your cheeks heated up. You couldn't even speak, let alone argue, because the fingers at your clit were playing you like a violin, sending more bolts of pleasure through your veins and wheedling out breathy, choked moans. To add to the assault on your poor, poor hormones, Gogol began kissing at your neck, nipping at your sweet spot when he found it until you were sure you'd have a big hickey there. Despite that, you were a moaning mess in his grip, squirming and squeezing your legs together and gripping the sides of the tub while he toyed with you, grinning against your skin and roughly groping your chest. You were pretty sure you may have said his name a few times, but you were in such a heavy haze of pleasure that you couldn't quite remember. What you do remember though, was grabbing onto Gogol's rolled up sleeve and arching your back when you finally reached your peak. After that, you were left a panting puddle, and Gogol was grinning like a madman as he pulled his hand out of the cooling bath water and dried off.         "Feel better, Golubka?" he asked, a satisfactory purr still in his words while you were beginning to blush even more after you were caught mindlessly masturbating. You weren't embarrassed to be touched, just that you were caught touching yourself, especially by your captor. Nonetheless, he chuckled, "I'll let you get dressed, but remember, if you're ever aroused again," he leaned down again to kiss your cheek, "just ask, I'd be happy to sate you again~" With that, he teleported back to outside the door, letting you put on fresh clothes, luckily it was some store bought pajamas and not something like his shirt. Yet. When you were dressed, and came back out into the rest of the dark basement, he, sadly, put you back into the massive bird cage rather than letting you out to maybe go have further fun, so he wasn't on the fast track to charming you.

#gogol x reader #bsd #yandere gogol #bungo stray dogs #yandere gogol x reader #Nikolai gogol #yandere #fanfiction #quotev #sing sweet nightingale

[akuma-hoshi]

Interesting idea Ciel teaching Finny to Masterbate. Of Course Sebastian has to walk in lol.

FYI - 3K drabble when does it stop being a drabble & become a fic instead lolol

-

"Y-Young master!" Those turquoise eyes jolted open and his cheeks immediately turned beet red.

"Finny, if you don't keep quiet, someone will come in," the earl continued to unbuckle the gardener's pants.

"What is this sudden act for?" Finnian didn't even know where to put his hands as it wavered in the air.

They two young ones were in the bookroom, far away from the rest of the rooms. A secluded area that no one can hear them. Ciel knelt in front of Finnian as the blonde sat on the leather sofa. An hour ago, the gardener was ordered by the heir to come to the old bookroom. He wasn't sure why but he was positive that he was going to get a scowling for something he did incorrect. But, in the end, the situation somehow came to this.

"I've been curious," Ciel finished unbuckling the pants and revealed the white underpants.

"C-Curious of what, young master?" Finnian's reddened face was clear as day.

"Of this," Ciel pulled down the underpants, letting out the private part of the gardener.

Finnian immediately covered his eyes as if he never seen his own lower half before. He was at lost and unsure what had gotten the young master to act this way. Ciel wasn't lying when he said he was curious about the hidden area of his gardener. Truthfully, it wasn't Ciel's first time seeing cock. He had seen his butler's many times and it satisfied him more than it should. But the reason why this perked in his mind was when Finnian greeted him earlier this morning with a hard on. Morning wood that bugled against the gardener's pants and Ciel couldn't stop his eyes from averting down there. Finnian was just an innocent one so he wasn't even aware. Besides it was the perfect time to please his curiosity because Sebastian was out at the store to get their everyday needs. Ciel didn't want to deal with Sebastian finding out his inquiry about Finnian. He already got enough teasing from the butler as is.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Finnian shifted his hands away from his eyes as he glanced down at the little one.

"It's okay," the watch dog assured.

Ciel averted his eyes up to the blonde, "do you touch yourself down here?" He was more blunt than usual but it was because he was under a time scrunch. He wanted his questions all answered before Sebastian got home.

"Y-Young master!" The gardener flustered as his lips quivered, "w-what do you mean?" "Have you?" Ciel softly voiced as he looked down at the limp cock.

With his index finger, the earl touched the tip. Finnian's legs immediately flinched as he gasped. Ciel rimmed his fingertip at the slit and drew the circle bigger every time he connected the shape.

"Hn-! Youn-!" Finnian's body jerked as Ciel motioned his digit, "young master!"

The blonde's cock started to harden as it stood up higher. The earl was mesmerized by how it grew bigger. Finnian was only a few inches taller than Ciel but his lower half was positively bigger than the young master's. It didn't compare to the tall butler but it was for sure doable.

"Are you going to answer?" Ciel slid his finger down the back of Finnian's cock until he reached the base, "have you touched yourself down here before?"

The gardener shook his head, blond locks viciously bouncing back and forth. Finnian wasn't the type to lie, especially to his dear master but Ciel didn't trust easily. The watch dog averted his eyes up to the green ones to see if there was any glimpse of a lie. Finnian stared back at him with reddened cheeks and his lips tightened. His fists were tight and glued to his sides. The stare that the gardener received only made him more perplexed.

"I can teach you," Ciel said but it was more of a command than an offering.

Finnian always thought the young master was beautiful. He was captivated the first night they met. The earl greeted him with such a kind smile and he was given a wonderful name from his savior. The gardener's mind was much more innocent than Ciel's. A dirty thought had never crossed his mind. He had only been living to keep Phantomhive away from any type of danger and to always have a smile.

"You start at the base," Ciel's dainty hand wrapped around the length, "and move like this." The earl started pumping his hand up and down. Finnian's legs tensed and his lips gaped as the friction ran up his body. Ciel's hand felt so warm around his length. He never experienced such a pleasant sensation. It was indescribable. Ciel watched the pre-cum leak out at the tip. It pearled bigger and bigger as he fastened his pace. Finnian's voice was slowly escaping his throat and soft moans started to fill the old library. The smaller one couldn't deny that it was exciting him too. His lower half pushed tight against his shorts and his hole twitched for the gardener's cock.

"Do you know what sex is?" Ciel questioned as his eyes focused on the glistening tip of the length.

"S-Sex?" Finnian questioned as a breathing moan followed.

The teal eyes were glazed with the high of pleasure. His shoulders relaxed into the sofa as his toes curled.

"I'll show you too," Ciel's hand left the throbbing cock.

Finnian's length twitched as the warm hand left. His voice whimpered from the lost touch.

Ciel quickly took off his lower garments, revealing his length that soaked his underwear. Finnian blinked twice as he stared at his half naked master. He would have never imagined to see his young master naked especially not in a situation like this. The earl's legs were slim and pale. As the younger one got closer, the gardener noticed small marks on the inner thighs. Purple and pink. So close to the young master's lower half and all in the inner side of his thighs. Finnian was too innocent to know they were hickeys nor to figure out it was created by the butler that was devoted to the earl.

Ciel climbed on top of the blonde, his knees rested into the sofa. He placed one hand on Finnian's shoulder and intently stared into those turquoise gems. His free hand pushed the gardener's cock against his ass and he started moving his hips. The tip of the hard length pushed against his yearning hole, only for it to slide up to tease himself. The pure sensation made Finnian jerk his head back into the sofa and let out a low groan.

"Young Ma-Master," Finnian's hands went up to the thin waist.

Ciel continued to rock his hips back and forth, smearing the pre-cum between his ass cheeks.

"Fi-Finn-," his own voice started to get louder as the throbbing cock almost entered his pink hole.

A loud crash echoed in the hallways and followed Meyrin's yelp.

"I'm so sorry, Sebastian!" She quickly shouted as she flustered some more.

"Meyrin," the sigh of the butler was clearly heard, "I told you to be more careful."

It immediately stopped Ciel's movements and he glanced at the closed library door. He cursed under his breath. The butler was back already. Damn demon and his unnatural speed.

"Young Master?" Finnian quietly said in his innocent voice.

Ciel looked back at the blonde, "we'll have to finish this another time."

The earl got off Finnian and quickly put on his clothes.

"Remember," Ciel looked up at the gardener, "this is a secret between you and me, Finny."

The watch dog knew his smile was a charm and so he did what he had to do. He sweetly smiled at the naive blonde and assured that this was safe between them. In return, Finnian blushed back and quickly nodded.

A few weeks passed since Ciel's and Finnian's incident. It was as if nothing had happened. It couldn't be helped that the earl was busy with the company and his lessons. The butler was good at keeping the young master occupied.

Sebastian and Finnian were tending the flowers in the young master's bedroom. Ciel was attending his violin lessons that was going to be finished in about 30 minutes. After his lessons, it was set for his afternoon tea to be served in the luxury of his bedroom. It was an agreement that the master and butler made this morning because the heir was feeling too tense from his busy schedule.

It was clear that something was bothering the gardener's mind. His eyes wavered and his cheeks were more red than usual.

"What is on your mind?" Sebastian questioned as he clipped the old leaves from the roses that sat in the China vase.

Finnian fiddled with the cut leaves. His responsibility was to make sure each one was thrown in the trash bin. But even with such an easy task, he wasn't set to work.

"Finny," the butler spoke louder.

The blonde snapped out of his thoughts and averted his eyes to the raven, "Yes, Sebastian!"

A sigh left Sebastian's lips as he set down the scissors in his hands, "what is bothering your mind?" Finnian flushed and jolted his eyes. He was too easy to read.

"N-Nothing, Sebastian!" "There's no use on lying, Finny." The gardener averted his eyes downwards as he bit on his bottom lip. He supposed maybe it was okay to ask. He wasn't telling besides he always did think highly of the raven. Someone the blonde trusted.

"If I ask you," Finnian slowly glanced up at Sebastian, "will you tell anyone?" Sebastian looked at the gardener with reassurance, just like a child, "of course, I won't tell anyone."

"Promise?" "Promise." Finnian glanced to the earl's bed as his cheeks turned bright red, "can you show me what sex is?" Sebastian's eyes widened from the vulgar question. A question he would have never thought the innocent gardener can ask.

The blonde looked up at the butler's reaction and immediately retracted back on his words, "I-I just wanted to know ca-cause-"

Sebastian cut him off, "and who taught you that word, Finny?" Those teal eyes shifted back to the watch dog's bed and up to the raven's crimson ones, "I'm not supposed to tell." "If you tell me, I can show you what sex is," Sebastian negotiated with a smile.

The demon had an idea who it was. He wasn't an idiot and no secret could ever go pass between him and his precious soul.

"Really?" Finnian's eyes widened with hope. He was getting desperate. He wanted to feel good again. He wanted to make the young master feel good too.

It was too easy to manipulate the innocent one, "of course, Finny." "The young master was trying to show me a few weeks ago but we couldn't finish," Finnian displayed a disappointed look.

"Why don't you show me what the young master taught you so far," Sebastian grinned.

"R-Right here?" The butler nodded.

Finnian's lower clothing was disregarded next to him. His length protruded upwards and seeped of pre-cum. He stood in front of the butler as the raven's eyes never pried away. He held the base of his cock, just like Phantomhive taught him.

"Young master said to move like this," Finnian quietly voiced as a soft moan left his lips.

He pumped his hand up and down. It wasn't the same firmness like how the young master did it but the action was similar. Even so, the sensations ran up and down his body.

"Afterwards, young master climbed on top of me," his knees twitched as a groan escaped, "he started moving his hips on my private part."

Sebastian couldn't help but keep a grin on his face. His little master was clever enough to teach someone else dirty things. He was growing into a young man.

"Did young master put it in?" Sebastian asked.

Finnian shook his head, "it felt really good when he was moving on top of me though." Sebastian took a step closer to the gardener and reached his finger to the leaking tip, "he did teach you well." The blonde quivered from the butler's touch and his legs felt jiggly. Sebastian figured Finnian's legs would give in and slid his arm around the gardener, placing it on smaller one's arched back. He supported the shorter one as his fingers played with the reddened tip. Finnian let out a loud moan as the butler fondled with his cock. Sebastian's hand by his back slowly slid down to the top of his ass.

"Sex is a mere act that allows two people to be connected," Sebastian explained, voice a bit too close to the flushed ears.

Finnian swallowed hard as the lowness of the butler's voice chilled down his spine, "y-yes, Sebastian." The raven's fingertips slid pass his tailbone and lower it went, "you'll insert your private part inside." Sebastian ran his finger across Finnian's tight hole. The blonde immediately gasped and tensed his body.

The butler leaned closer to his ear and whispered, "do you understand?"

Before Finnian could answer, the door opened. The two glanced over. The earl stood there with furrowed eyebrows.

"Good afternoon, young master," Sebastian grinned, "I'm quite behind on schedule and have not gotten your afternoon tea ready, yet." Finnian's eyes widened. He was caught in action and even more, Sebastian was acting so nonchalantly. He wasn't sure what to do.

Ciel shut the door tight, "well, you're quite daring to do this in your own master's bedroom."

"I'll have to say the same thing back," Sebastian pulled Finnian into his built before the gardener can back away, "quite daring to explore when I was out on an errand." Ciel smirked back from the comment and strutted towards the servants, "was this your plan all along?" Sebastian kept his eyes on the pretty master, "I saw an opportunity coming and I'm not one to miss it." The earl took off his suit jacket as he laid it on the table with the forgotten vase of roses.

"Finny, here, was showing me how well the young master taught him," Sebastian glanced down at the bewildered blonde.

Ciel unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the pale skin that the gardener learned to yearn for, "Finny." The voice immediately grasped the blonde's attention, "y-yes, young master?" Ciel chuckled from the reaction. He had to admit this was going to be better than an afternoon tea.

"Has Sebastian taught you the rest?"

Finnian quickly averted his eyes up to the taller servant. Sebastian returned a smile back as his finger by the gardener's bare bottom pushed the tight hole. It made the innocent one yelp and he immediately nodded.

"Shall we test those lessons?" Ciel unbuckled his pants as his eyes stayed on the blonde.

The earl fully undressed himself and proceeded to climb on top of his pure white sheeted bed. Sebastian let go of Finnian and guided him towards the young master. Ciel laid on the bed like a kitty. His slender legs pushed together as his back arched to feel the sunlight that warmed the mattress. Finnian got on the bed as he scooted closer to the heir. Ciel plastered a smile across his face as he looked down at the nervous blonde.

"It should be quite prepared," the earl slowly spread his legs, "Sebastian was quite rough with me this morning." Once again, Finnian witnessed those purple and red marks on the milky thighs. It trailed higher and higher and stopped right at the lower hip. Compared to last time, the colors were much more vibrant, as if they were freshly created, and a few teeth marks were seen too.

Ciel reached his hand down to his hole, "Sebastian." A bottle of oil was handed to the blonde. Finnian glanced up at the butler.

"Pour it on the young master and it'll allow it to be easier," Sebastian instructed.

Finnian swallowed hard as his lower half twitched from anticipation. He took the bottle of oil out of Sebastian's hand and did as he was told. Ciel softly gasped from the sudden coldness. A smirk smeared across his face as he felt himself get hard. Using his own finger, he rubbed the oil around his pink hole. Finnian watched the earl's fingers. It was so slick and wet. He swore he saw the aching hole twitch as if it was pleading for his cock.

"Come, Finny," Ciel pulled his fingers away and inched his legs further for easier access.

The gardener's heart was pounding fast. Sebastian told him but he was still a nervous wreck. Suddenly, he felt a warm body behind him, the mattress sinking further inwards. A lean chest pushed against his smaller back and a gloved hand held the base of his cock. Finnian looked up at Sebastian who knelt behind him.

The butler returned a kind smile back, "the young master enjoys it like this."

Sebastian positioned Finnian's redden cock and using his body, he pushed the blonde inside. Ciel's jaw slacked as a long moan escaped his lips. The bluenette pushed his head back into the pillows and relaxed his body to feel the warmth of the gardener. Finnian's arms limped to his sides and his eyebrows furrowed in. The pleasure ran up and down his body. He wasn't sure how to process how hot it felt. The heat from the young master wrapped around him and the sensations curled his toes.

Sebastian let go of Finnian's lower half as he pushed the blonde fully into his master. He placed his hand on the bony hips of the gardener and started to thrust him. Finnian immediately gasped from the motion and overwhelmed pleasure. He threw his head back and nuzzled into Sebastian's neck as his groans louden. Without having to look, Ciel knew this pace was directed from his demon. His toes pushed into the mattress as his knees raised. His voice slowly became clearer and filled the empty space between Finnian's moans.

"F-faster," Ciel groaned between his whimpers, "Se-Sebastian, faster." Finnian was too submerged into the sensations to even notice the call for the butler. But even so, the innocent blonde was too naive to be jealous of the young master calling someone else's name. He was just thankful enough to even be able to indulge in such luxury.

Being the obedient butler, he is, Sebastian did as he was instructed. He wrapped his arm around Finnian's waist and advanced him faster.

"A-Ah! S-Sebastian!" Finnian shut his eyes tight and shook his head, "I-It's too f-fast!"

Finnian gripped the butler's arm tight as his nails dug. Ciel gripped the bed sheets as it started to wrinkle from the firm hold. The blonde continued to shake his head as Sebastian took control of his body movement. The butler thrust harder and bucked the gardener's hips into the petite boy. Ciel couldn't keep up with his voice anymore. His lips gaped and his jaw stretched upwards, only whimpers sounded through.

With a few more moments, Finnian spurted inside the earl's tight hole. He felt his own semen slip out of the heir. Despite his spent, Sebastian made him thrust a few more times to allow Ciel to cum. The slickness made the sounds more vulgar and vibrant. It stained the sheets and smeared on the young master's inner thighs. Ropes of white from the watch dog spurted onto his own stomach. His body jerked which only caused the blonde to twitch with him. Sebastian grinned at his own work and pulled Finnian out of his young master's gaping hole.

"Sebastian," they both breathlessly called out to the demon.

The butler gently laid the blonde on the bed. Finnian's eyes practically were shut. He still panted as his body jerked once more.

"You did well, Finny," Sebastian complimented.

A smile quickly appeared on the gardener's face, "I'm glad." His eyes fully shut and he was fast asleep with the sunlight raying gold on him.

"Young master," Sebastian reached towards his precious soul.

Ciel looked up at him with a satisfied grin.

The corner of Sebastian's lip slightly curled, "have your questions been answered?" Ciel nodded and reached his hands up. As if they read each other's minds, Sebastian slipped his arms underneath the earl and carried him bridal style. The heir wrapped his arms around the butler's neck and snuggled into the big chest. Sebastian got them off the bed and walked towards the bathroom.

"Next time, just you," the young master quietly voiced as he closed his eyes.

#thanks for being so patience for my drabble lol #cant believe i finally finished this & its been in my wip since aug LOL #asks #anon #sebaciel #finnian #finny #akumahoshi-writes

[spookyboywhump]

i just learned that the violin leaves a "hickey" on the player from the question "what's with the hickey? trying to create the illusion of a love life?" posed to violinists and i immediately thought of cain

AHSJSHSKDJSK Cain hasn’t really played much violin since he was in high school but he definitely got that comment a lot (especially from Vanessa) since he never had any sort of dating life

#oc stuff #cain #the first time she asked he didn’t even know what she was talking about #anonymous

[cheezyballs7]

Heyyy I wanted to make a request of suna x reader angst with a breakup on it luv plss ❣️

 Heyooo, I’m so excited since I finally gained the motivation to write this!!! I hope this is kinda like what you wanted! Ps. I added double angst incase a break up with the hottest man on earth isn’t enough to brake ur heart- Mk well I hope u cry real good 🥲🙃

———————————————————————————————————

It was late, around 12, the middle of winter and the rain was pouring down.

At least that’s what you remembered. Lying motionless in your hospital bed, eyes barely open, you slowly remember the events of the night before...or was it? You don’t necessarily know what day it was or what year.

You could hear a strong ringing in your ear, muffled voices, sobs and a heart monitor beeping every now and then.

Occasionally footsteps would come near the door, but no one ever entered.

 As you felt yourself slowly slipping away, you tried to remember what happened to you, why you're in this plain room, why no one ever comes in, how you got to this room. And it all starts on that cold day in December.

—————————T^T—————————-

It was a typical day, just like any other, and you and Suna were walking back to your shared apartment after college.

“Hey, Babe? My boss just texted me, I’ll have to work late today. Sorry, I know you have a performance tonight, but it’s urgent,” Suna said while texting back, who you presumed to be, his boss.

“Oh, that’s alright. You’ve come to every one of my performances so far, its ok if you miss one, right?” you replied.

“Yeah, but i love hearing you play violin,” Suna said as he grabbed your hand. “Stop, i’m not that good,” you said while blushing. “I love seeing you blush” “Rintarō!!”

After your performance it was already quite late, around 10 pm. Suna wasn’t home yet, but he had mentioned he’d be working till late. And Suna usually comes home from work at 9pm, so it was nothing too strange.

You got changed, took off your makeup, had a nice long shower then sat down by the TV and watched Netflix with some pizza you just ordered. It was now 11pm, Suna wasn’t home yet and he hadn’t even seen any of your texts.

So you called him, no answer. You call again, nothing. Three more times, no answer. Now you were worried.

What’s wrong, Rintarō always answers his phone! He’s always on his phone so he should have seen my messages by now! What’s going on-

Just then the door opens. You turn around and there stands the one and only Suna Rintarō. “Rintarō! I was so worried about you! You weren’t answering any of my call’s, why?” You questioned your boyfriend. “I was...busy,” he said slowly as if he were in deep thought.

“Oh, with what?” You pressed, “uhm, just work. A lot of people at the restaurant today,” Suna said as he walked over to you and planted a kiss on your lips. You sunk it to it, but he pulled away shortly after.

“Sorry, baby. Not right now, I’m going to have a quick shower. I’ll meet you in bed,” he said with a small smile. “Alright then love, I’ll see you in bed,” you replied with a yawn before walking off to the bedroom.

When Suna came back to bed, he was wearing a shirt. Which was strange to you because Suna has never worn a shirt to bed. Never.

“Hey, love?” You asked, “Yes?” Suna replied almost hesitantly. “Why are you wearing a shirt to bed? You never do that,” You asked Suna again before continuing. “You’re not hiding something from me, right?” You finished as you sat up on the bed and looked Suna straight in the eyes.

Suna looked away, you bit your lip. “Rintarō?” You pushed. He just continued to ignore you. “Rintarō,” you repeated now more sternly. “...I’m just feeling really cold right now so I put on a shirt, just for tonight though,” Suna replied while looking at you with a straight face. “No, you’re lying. Why,” you pressed on, especially since he lied about it the first time you asked.

“It’s not important. Go to bed,” Suna said hurriedly as he turned onto his side. “Rintarō you’re not cheating on me, are you?” You asked. You didn’t want to believe it though, since Suna has always been so loyal and good to you. “No,” Suna said after a moment of silence.

“Bullshit. Take off your shirt. I want to see for myself that you’re not covered in hickeys,” You said getting out of bed completely and staring at your boyfriend of three years lie in bed shuffling around nervously. “I can’t fucking believe you,” you spoke on the verge of tears.

“W-why? Was I not good enough? When did this start? W-was this the first time? Or is this a frequency?” You spewed out question after question as you choked back tears. At this point Suna had got out of bed and tried to hug you.

“NO! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TOUCH ME, please no. Just leave Rintarō,” you sobbed, after failing to hold back any more tears. “Please Y/n, listen to me-“ “No Suna, no. We’re over, please just go,” you said as you looked at him through teary eyes.

“And if you won’t I will,” you said before deciding to pack your stuff and leave instead of forcing Suna out. “No please before you leave listen to me, Y/n,” Suna said as he grabbed your hand. You pulled away and stormed over to your violin.

That’s all you needed to take for now, you could stop by again for the rest. Besides, you don’t know where you’ll go. You threw on your coat and shoes and ran out of the door. Suna didn’t even bother running after you. He knew he was in the wrong and by following you he’d only make things worse.

You, on the other hand, we’re running through the busy streets near the apartment. It was pouring down and it was quite foggy too.

You didn’t see where you were going and all of a sudden found yourself in the middle of the road. You couldn’t move as you stared up at the truck honking at you, you had enough time to move but you didn’t.

Your fate was already sealed.

>————————————————————<

Suna had rushed to the hospital as soon as he heard you were there. Dashing through the hallways, all he needed was to find room 485 before it was too late. When he saw the room there were lots of doctors and nurses.

So Suna opened the door as fast as he could, and brust in only to see a doctor unclipping your heart monitor and one nurse standing over you. “W-what’s going on?” Suna asked nervously.

“Sir we’re going to have to ask you to leave-“ “What’s happened to Y/n,” Suna asked again as he rushed to your side and grabbed your hand. It was cold and motionless.

“You know this woman?” A nurse asked. “Yes very well, she’s my- well she was my girlfriend,” Suna said solemnly. The nurse looked at him sadly before delivering the final blow.

“I’m sorry for your loss, sir,”

#angst #hq angst #hq suna #haikyuu!! #haikyuu suna #suna x reader #suna rintarō #suna angst #major character death #break up #heartbreak #heartless #haikyuu x you #x reader #y/n #y/n x haikyuu #suna rintarou #oneshot #why did i write this #T^T #sad shit #sad thoughts #so saddd #sadddd #sadness

[deja-you]

The Lies We Tell Ourselves

t. jefferson x reader

summary: you tell yourself lies because you know the truth would crush you.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: somewhat smut (but like, not really, more like a heavy make out sesh) and lots of angst. this is like 60% angst even though it’s really 100% angst.

masterlist

You don’t even think about him anymore.

The scalding hot tea cup in your hand could’ve burned off your finger points to the point where you wouldn’t be able to be identified anymore and you wouldn’t even notice. The cool feeling of sheets against your skin. The vibrations from music that’s playing too loudly. The barrage of water droplets in the shower. You couldn’t feel anything anymore, and there was a time where you would feel everything to its fullest extent. 

Maybe you couldn’t feel anything anymore because you could still feel his touch on your skin. That was too overwhelming, wasn’t it?

People said that the first thing you forget about a person is their voice. But you could remember Thomas’s voice all too well. You could remember the sound of his laugh when you told a joke that you knew wasn’t that funny. You’d never forget how your name sounded on his voice in between kisses. 

It wasn’t likely you would stop thinking about what he looked like, either. No, he was just too memorable that way. Bright eyes and wide grin. You forced yourself to stop thinking about him before you fell in love all over again. 

At times like this, you’d stop thinking about the sunshine he created and you would remember the storms. The terrible, horrible storms that washed up in faded photos months later. Tornadoes that ripped through your soul and left you with broken pieces to put back together. Wild fires that made you feel more alive than you had before, but left you with a charred core and third-degree burns. 

Even after living through the apocalypse, you knew you’d do it all again if you had the chance.

You don’t think about that evening in his kitchen.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he mumbled in between kisses. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Thomas could feel the vibrations of your laugh when he placed kisses upon your neck. “Does that line ever work?”

“You telling me it’s not workin’ on you, sweetheart?” The satin of your dress began riding up your thighs as Thomas’s hands travelled further up your legs. The hickey he was currently sucking onto your neck made you lose any ability to speak.

Thomas pulled away just long enough to shrug off his jacket, and then his lips were back on yours, his thumbs sliding the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders. He gently pushed you back against the cool marble of his kitchen counter. Thomas pulled your hips against his.

You gasped his name in between kisses. “Thomas, you don’t want to... you don’t... you don’t want to move to the bedroom?”

“Sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss along your collarbone between every word. “I. Want. You. Right. Here.”

You groaned when you felt his lips leave your skin and cracked open one eye at a time. Thomas stood over you, his hands on either side of your head. You tilted your head to the side.

“What is it?”

He drew his bottom lip into his mouth and shook his head. “Nothin’. Just admiring the view.” 

You smacked his chest and rolled your eyes. “Put those lips to better use.”

Thomas did, and you couldn’t help thinking this is going to ruin me. I want it to.

You don’t miss those weekends when you’d visit his family.

“Of course you’re good with children, too,” you rolled your eyes. 

Thomas briefly looked up from his two-year-old niece he was playing with. “S’that a problem, sweetheart? I read somewhere that girls find guys who are good with kids attractive. I hired this child actor just to impress you.”

You laughed through your nose and shook your head. “You know what? I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“You know I’d do anything to impress you,” he said with a lopsided grin. Thomas turned back to his niece and waved a rattle in the air above her, making her giggle loudly. 

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” You leaned against a wall and took a second to appreciate just how perfect this moment felt. 

“M’not very good at Pretty, Pretty Princess.” He admitted with a shrug. “You always seem to get all your jewelry pieces and the tiara before I can. I don’t get that.”

“It’s a luck game, Thomas.” These were the days where you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Still think it’s rigged,” he mumbled under his breath. “I think we should play again. I have a new strategy that I think will get me that tiara this time.”

You hummed softly. “Maybe after lunch. And speaking of lunch, I should go help Lucy out. Set the table at the very least.”

Thomas glanced up at you and furrowed his brows. “Now don’t go and be too helpful. I swear my sisters already like you more than me. M’afraid they’re going to try and replace me.”

“Can you blame them?” You teased. 

He laughed and picked up his niece, holding her closely to his chest. Thomas walked over to you and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“No, I can’t. You’re perfect, sweetheart.”

And you’ve kept your distance since the breakup.

Once more you feel his arm laid around your waist like a laurel wreath or the best of your plans that had gone awry. 

If it wasn’t for the cool air drafting through the cracked open window, the discarded tie on the hardwood floor, and the steady breathing of his body beside you, you would’ve thought you were dreaming. Well, it was less of a dream and more of a nightmare that had been haunting you for months. 

Thomas shifted his weight on the bed, alerting you to his state of consciousness. You shut your eyes quickly, hoping he’d believe you were still asleep. It would be easier if he just left without saying anything. You could both pretend like this relapse had never happened. 

One hand gripping your waist, Thomas leaned forward and pressed his lips against your skin. 

He left kisses against your neck like he wanted to leave you with something more to remember him by than just the scars on your heart.

You kept your eyes closed when you felt his weight leave the bed. You kept your eyes closed when you heard him picking up his scattered clothes from around the room. You kept your eyes closed when you knew he was pausing in the doorframe of your bedroom, watching you “sleep” and wondering what things could’ve been like if he hadn’t messed up. 

It was only when you heard the front door of your apartment shut behind him that you opened your eyes.

Immediately, you wished you had kept them shut. The empty bed was an open wound that had never scabbed over. There was no trace of Thomas left in your apartment. No proof that all the events that had occurred the previous night hadn’t just been in your head. 

You didn’t cry. You would’ve welcomed tears with open arms at this point. Anything would be better with the cloying taste of emptiness that was left in the back of your throat. 

You don’t replay scenes from that night again and again and again and again in your head.

“We’ve both made mistakes, sweetheart.” The enchanting nickname you used to love was being twisted against you, and you hated it.

“Don’t compare me to you. I’m nothing like you.” The words were spat out like venom. 

“It takes two people to destroy a relationship!” Thomas’s voice raised a few levels.

“But I never slept with your secretary!”

The words struck him like a knife to the heart. Thomas hadn’t realized you had known about his affair. Of course you did. It all made sense. The guilt that had been building up for weeks now finally reached a breaking point when he saw the hurt look on your face.

Any anger Thomas held dissipated, and you turned away from him, not wanting him to see just how much he had broken you. Something in you wanted him to yell at you, tell you you were wrong. You knew the truth, but you desperately wanted Thomas to lie to you one more time. It could be good like that. It would be better. 

The denial that you prayed for never came. 

“Could you forgive me?” The words were nearly silent, like anything louder would break the fragile tension between the two of you. 

“I would do anything you wanted me to do. Of course I could forgive you. Just don’t ask me too. Because forgiving you would absolutely destroy me.” You told the truth and decided then and there that you didn’t like telling the truth. 

“So we’re over, then?” Thomas leaned against the counter, and you didn’t know this at the time, but if he hadn’t leaned against the counter, he was sure he would’ve collapsed. 

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.” You wiped at the tears on your cheeks and hoped he couldn’t hear them in your voice.

“I guess this is goodbye.”

You never loved him.

Not when you came home after a long day to find him playing the violin. Especially not then. 

Thomas didn’t even notice when you walked into the apartment. He got like that when he was playing. He wouldn’t be able to hear anything over the sound of horsehair on strings, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You set down your bag on the kitchen counter and pulled out a chair. After dealing with your coworkers who were incapable of the smallest tasks, you were ready to collapse. Thomas’s music had a lulling affect, and you had almost fallen asleep right there in the kitchen when he stopped playing.

“Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you come in,” Thomas said as he began putting his violin back in its case. “How was your day?”

You slowly opened one eye to see his smiling face. “It was good.”

It wasn’t completely a lie. When you would look back on that day, all you could remember was the evening you spent with Thomas. The sound of his violin playing some vaguely familiar tune. Your loud laughter that must’ve woken the neighbors. The food Thomas claimed to be “fine cuisine.”

“It’s delicious, sweetheart, don’t even try denying it,” Thomas pressed a few buttons on the microwave and it whirred to life.

“Thomas, it came out of a cardboard box, and the ‘cheese’ was a powder!”

“It’s an easy and efficient meal, if anything, I think that adds to the appeal.” Thomas may have been a star in the courtroom, but you were struggling to see how he ever won any arguments.

“I know you can cook. And I mean real food. Remember that time you made Italian for our anniversary?” You reminded him. 

“That was a good meal, wasn’t it?” Thomas mused. 

You nodded. “You made the pasta by hand. I think that was the best dinner I’ve ever had.”

“Well, I’m about to top that dinner.” Thomas pulled the hot bowl of macaroni out of the microwave and set it in front of you.

You looked down at the bowl, then back at Thomas. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“M’not.” He shook his head and handed you a spoon. Thomas leaned forward on the counter, waiting for your review to come in. 

You laughed and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

What you meant by that was “I love you,” and Thomas knew.

You don’t love him.

If you had a nickel for every time you told yourself that, you would’ve been able to move out of this apartment that still felt like him. You’d have enough money to move out of this godforsaken city that always felt like him. 

He had left his mark on everything in your life. You couldn’t escape him. The coffeeshop near your work reminded you of him. Your favorite song on the radio reminded you of him. Board games reminded you of him. Your own kitchen reminded you of him. And every god damn box of Kraft macaroni and cheese reminded you of him. 

Even in a city with a population of 8.3 million people, you couldn’t avoid him. Occasionally, you’d see Thomas walking into a grocery store while you were on your way to the dry cleaners. All the glue, tape, and bandages you had used to put your heart together again would fall apart. 

You told yourself that one day you would get better. That one day you wouldn’t fall apart at the mere sight of him. Who knows, maybe one day you’d be able to hold an entire conversation with him.

Thomas wasn’t a mess like you were, even though you hoped he would be. From what you’d heard from mutual friends, he seemed to be handling the break-up well. The knowledge that he was fine when you weren’t was another stab in the heart. 

But maybe those same friends told Thomas that you were doing fine as well. On all accounts, you looked like you were doing fine. It was only when you locked yourself away in your Thomas-free bedroom that you could really be honest with yourself.

And if tissues filled your room, who would know? You were the only one who had to face the unmade bedsheets and piles of unfolded laundry. If anyone asked, you kept your room spotless. 

And if you asked yourself, you would say that you didn’t love him anymore. 

The lies we tell ourselves.

#i will never ever stop writing angst #idk why i love it so much #i hope this fic hurt you in the best way #promise i'm writing TNR and FA too #but i just felt inspired to write this #thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson imagine #imagine thomas jefferson #hamilton imagine #hamilton x reader #thomas jefferson angst #ANGST #imagine daveed diggs #Daveed Diggs #daveed diggs x reader

[theassofwonder]

A Cord of Three Strands (Is Not Quickly Broken)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Part Seven (ao3)

(so I ended up cutting part 7 off before the actual sex starts because it just got so damn long and it's already been a year since part 6. I'm working on part 8 as we speak, and crossing my fingers that it won't take another year to finish)

The cab ride home is quiet. The one they took to the club was quiet too, but that was a different kind of quiet. That was a quiet born out of anticipation, of bitten lips and clenched hands and muscles strung like violins. This is… this is a better quiet, Anya thinks, smiling to herself. Calm. Not at all like the tension that followed the three of them like a cloud. Part of it is because of the late hour, yes, but Anya likes to think they’re also more sure of where they stand now, with each other.

She’s curled into Zhenya for propriety’s sake, but she’s got one of Sidney’s ankles trapped between both of her own, and when the cab takes an especially sharp turn she’s pushed into Sidney’s side and one of her hands ends up splayed across the top of his thigh, her other hand tight around Zhenya’s bicep. The driver throws back an apology, and Anna rights herself, squeezing her husband’s arm and Sidney’s thigh as she does.

“Tease,” Sidney mutters in English, and Anna kisses the hinge of Zhenya’s jaw to hide her sharp grin.

They’re home shortly, the driver pulling up to the side entrance instead of the glittering wall of glass windows and doors of the main entrance. Anna follows Zhenya out of his side of the cab, murmuring a ‘thank you’ to the driver as they go. Sidney joins them moments later, staying a respectable distance away until the cab is out of sight and they’re through the doors.

Anya sees the way Sid is staring at Zhenya and pushes them into the stairwell just to the side of the door they came in through. “No cameras,” she says in English, and is thanked by Sidney with a quick but hard and heated kiss before he spins around and shoves Zhenya into the wall right before he shoves his tongue into Zhenya’s mouth. Zhenya’s resulting moan, muffled though it is by Sidney’s mouth, is still loud enough to echo through the stairwell.

“You need to be quiet,” Sidney mutters, tucking his face into the curve of Zhenya’s neck.

“You need to fuck me,” Zheny retorts. He meets Anya’s eyes over Sidney’s shoulder, and whatever he sees must be enough because he holds out his hand, silently asking her to join them.

(As if she could ever refuse him- either of them.)

She’s at their sides in an instant, reaching up to hook her hand around the back of Zhenya’s neck and pulls him down to meet her. It starts out soft and semi-sweet- the catch and pull of their dry lips turning slick and smooth as they go on- and gets rough as their teeth join the fray, bites to each other’s lips and jaws (somewhat) more vicious than they would be sober. Anya feels Sidney’s breath ghost up her neck and gasps when he bites the shell of her ear. Zhenya takes advantage of her open mouth and thrusts his tongue inside, one of his hands (his wonderful, big hands) tangling in her hair, holding her head in place. She moans, too close to being a whine, and the stairwell echoing it back shocks her to her senses. She dislodges her hand from around Zhenya’s neck and pats his chest. He frees her mouth, but stays close, kissing her cheek, grazing his teeth teasingly along the underside of her jaw.

Sidney’s stubble rasps against her neck as his lips glide up to meet Zhenya’s at her chin- and god in heaven, between the two of them, she’s going to be pink for days.

“Wait,” Anya murmurs, blinking her eyes open. “Upstairs.”

“Upstairs is so far,” Zhenya whines. He inhales sharply, his fingers pressing deliciously hard into Anya’s scalp, as Anya sees Sidney suck what is going to be a truly impressive hickey into the base of Zhenya’s neck.

Anya’s not afraid of pulling out the big guns. “But don’t you want him to fuck you,” she murmurs, sliding her hand up his chest. She smiles against Zhenya’s jaw when Sidney pauses in his ministrations to suck her fingers into the wet heat of his mouth, letting them go with gentle nips to her fingertips. “Don’t you want Sidney to fuck you in our bed?”

Zhenya goes perfectly still.

“You want that, don’t you,” Anya croons, a little meanly. “Will you let me watch, Zhenetchka? Let me watch him open you up with his fingers, maybe his mouth. Watch him fuck you on his cock?”

“Woman,” Zhenya gasps. “Jesus .”

Satisfied with the state of her husband, Anya sets her sights on Sidney, who was evidently very busy while Anya was talking. She’s very impressed by the constellations of hickeys he’s left up Zhenya’s neck, down his clavicle, and across the top of his shoulder. “Beautiful,” she murmurs against Sidney’s cheek. Anya licks a wet stripe from the base of his neck to his ear. “So good, our Sid.”

She relishes the moan he tries to hold in, how the vibrations feel against her lips. She wants to mark him up like he did Zhenya, leave bruises in the shape of her teeth and fingertips, raised red lines from her fingernails. He’s beautiful always, but he’d look especially stunning (breathtaking, Anya thinks, sucking a bruise into the skin behind his earlobe) with her marks on him.

“Weren’t you just telling me how much you want to watch him fuck me?” Zhenya kisses her hairline. “Did you change your mind?”

Anya smiles into Sidney’s neck. He angles his head down, nosing along the arch of her cheek, and brushes his lips against the corner of her mouth. He says something against her cheekbone, nonsense words in a nonsense language, and pulls back to look her in the eyes, almost expectantly, like he’s waiting for something, for an-

An answer. Because he must have asked Anya something in that nonsense language of his. A language that Anya has a fair grasp of at the best of times, of which this is obviously not.

Anya shakes her head, groaning, her forehead thunking against Sidney’s sternum. “No English,” she says, though whether she’s asking him not to speak English or just telling him she can’t understand, she isn’t sure. Maybe it’s both. She feels his chest jump erratically- he’s laughing at her, the menace- and she bites the thick muscle of his pectoral muscle in retaliation.

Sidney’s breath hitches- oh, the marks Any’s going to leave on this man- and he lifts her face up by her jaw, biting her bottom lip. A wrinkle forms between his eyebrows. “Bed,” he says, in clumsy Russian- better, but still endearingly bad- his voice lifting up at the end of the word like he’s uncertain it’s the right one.

(It is. It really is.)

“Bed,” Anya repeats. She feels herself smile, so wide her cheeks hurt, almost. “Yes,” she murmurs. “Let’s go to bed.”

It takes them all much too long to get back to the apartment; Zhenya insisted on taking the stairs- kissed her until she relented, that is- and despite it taking longer a simple elevator ride, Anya admits that the end result- the three of them slightly more clear-headed but no less eager, pink with stubble burn and fresh love-bites- was well worth the extra time.

Zhenya unlocks the door fairly quickly despite having to fight off Anya and Sid’s combined efforts to undress him right there in the hallway.

“Demons,” Zhenya growls, as the deadbolt clicks, and shoves Anya and Sid in front of him through the doorway. “You’re both demons .”

Anya giggles, laughs until she can’t breathe, interlaces her fingers with Sidney’s as he wraps his arms around her middle. “Oh,” she gasps, bursting into another peal of laughter as Sidney starts walking them backward out of the entryway. “Sidney!”

They don’t trip over anything other than their own- and each other’s- feet, although they had a near-miss with the living room rug. Sidney leans them against the wall next to hers and Zhenya’s room, but- no, that won’t do. She’s done waiting, now that she knows she can have. She peels herself out of Sidney’s arms, pinches the back of his hand when he whines and tries to stop her, kicking off her shoes and pulling out hairpins on her way to the bed.

Sidney follows close behind, taking off his own shoes, settling them and Anya’s neatly next to the dresser. She catches his eye and turns her back to him, pulling all of her hair over her right shoulder. Luckily, Anya hadn’t just made a fool of herself, and Sidney understood what she was indirectly asking of him- he undoes the top clasp of her dress, his lips a feather-light presence at the nape of her neck. His mouth trails down her spine as he unzips her, biting and licking and sucking what feels like every newly exposed centimeter of skin, until he’s kneeling behind her, his breath hot against the small of her back.

Anya lets the dress pull at her feet, kicking it away as she turns to face Sidney, his hands barely leaving her hips as she repositions. She looks down and her breath catches in her throat.

Sidney is beautiful on his knees.

She cups his cheek in her hand, greedily drinking up the sight of his eyes fluttering closed. He turns his head into her hand, kissing the heel of her palm right before he sucks her thumb into the wet heat of his mouth.

“Fucking Christ,” Zhenya swears from the doorway. “I’m dead,” he says weakly. “Or I’m dreaming.”

“Definitely not dreaming,” Anya murmurs, replacing her thumb in Sidney’s mouth with her first and middle fingers. Sidney makes a show of moaning around them and tips his head back, looking up at her from under his lashes, his pupils blown.

Zhenya drops to his knees next to Sidney, the fingers of his left hand carefully curling around Sidney’s shoulder and his right hand sliding up Sidney’s jaw. Anya removes her fingers from Sidney’s mouth so Zhenya can hold his face in his hands properly, and sits at the end of the bed with her legs folded under her.

The look on Zhenya’s face- Anya feels like something has her lungs in a tight grip. Hearing Zhenya say he loves Sid is one thing; talking about having a threesome is another. Seeing this though- the pure, unadulterated love in Zhenya’s eyes as he looks at Sid, as he presses the lightest of kisses across his cheeks. And to see it all reflected back all over Sidney’s face? Anya almost feels like she’s intruding.

Almost.

“My beautiful boys,” she says. Zhenya tries to duck his head but Sidney catches him, kisses him, slow and sweet.

“Look at the two of you,” Anya murmurs, backing up towards the headboard. “So gorgeous.” She kicks the duvet to the end of the bed and claps her hands twice. “Now come one, on with the fucking.”

Zhenya snorts and breaks into giggles against Sidney’s collarbones, Sidney himself smiling hesitantly, like he doesn’t quite get the joke but wants to be in on it anyway.

Anya wants to fuck him so bad it’s ridiculous.

Sidney pulls Zhenya up to standing and gets tackled to the bed in exchange, narrowly missing Anya’s legs as she pulls them up to her chest.

“Boys!” She shrieks, dissolving into giggles when Zhenya digs his fingers into the sole of her left foot. “You’re- acting- like- children!” Anya drags her nails up his shoulder blade in retaliation, crowing triumphantly when Zhenya releases her foot. Sidney, still pinned underneath Zhenya (the both of them still fully dressed, the fools), grins upside-down at Anya. He says something in English and nudges Zhenya, who sighs dramatically.

“He wants to know where you want him,” Zhenya smirks. “Should I tell him to just turn over? You were begging for his mouth just yesterday.”

Anya hums. She has been looking forward to seeing for herself if Sidney is as talented in bed as he is on the ice. But she looks at the two of them, how even though they’re both looking to her for direction, they’re still curled around each other, and she shakes her head. “Let me watch for now,” she murmurs, bending down to kiss Zhenya, then bending further to kiss Sidney, careful of their noses and chins. She pulls away and settles back against the headboard, smoothing her palms over the tops of her thighs.

Sidney twists as much as he can with Zhenya still clinging to him like a limpet, curling his fingers as best he can around Anya’s knee, his eyebrows pinching together. “You also,” he asks, in his adorably atrocious Russian. Anya’s heart is going to burst out of her chest with how much she loves this man. “Soon,” she promises, lifting his hand and kissing his palm. “You and Zhenya first, okay?” She repositions a pillow to sit between her lower back and the headboard and waves her hand. “What are you waiting for? Go on, get on with it.”

#a cord of three strands (is not quickly broken) #acots #hockey rpf #sidgeno #sidgenoanna #crosterovkin #dragging my hands down my face #really didn't mean for this to take a whole year #i genuinely hope part 8 doesn't take another year #wtf liz

[thearvariblues]

The Bard And The Wolf - Chapter Eight

(AKA Geraskier in the Metal Band AU you didn’t know you needed)

AKA me desperately trying to catch up my Tumblr with what’s already been posted to AO3. ;)

The masterpost for this fic can be found HERE.

A word of warning: This chapter references to a past sexual relationship between a nineteen-year-old and a (very willing) sixteen-year-old. Everything that happens in this chapter is 100% consensual, even though you might get an idea that it isn’t - don’t worry, everything will be properly explained in the next chapter! ;)

8 – We Know What You’re Like, Jask

Three weeks had passed.

They kept rehearsing, of course. Not as often as before the gig, though. Their next gig was going to be about thirty minutes long, again, and Jaskier already knew the lyrics.

So he spent the time trying to write new songs (and failing spectacularly, for some reason), working (he had to admit that he’d neglected his students a little in that hellish week before the first gig) and, well… daydreaming about a certain white-haired witcher.

He tried to stop himself. He really, truly did. He knew it was a bad idea to fall for another member of the band. And he hadn’t fallen yet. He was just… hanging from a high cliff, clinging desperately to the crumbling rock. With only one hand. Well, honestly, it was more like… two fingers.

But he wasn’t going to fall.

He wasn’t.

He fucking wasn’t.

“Professor Jaskier?” said a voice next to him.

He blinked and shook his head to clear it.

“I’m sorry, Emma, I wasn’t… paying attention. Could you play it again, please? And it’s Jaskier. Not professor.”

The dark-haired girl next to him bit her lower lip. She was about as old as Ciri was, but nowhere near as talkative or confident.

“I know. You’ve told me. Mom says I’m only allowed to call you professor Jaskier… or Mr. Pankratz.”

“Don’t you dare calling me Mr. Pankratz,” he smirked. “And don’t worry. I’m gonna have a word with your mother.”

“That’s not gonna help, I’m afraid,” she sighed. “Professor...”

“Oh, dear. What?”

“Is that… The instrument you brought. Is that a lute?”

“Yes, Emma, it’s a lute,” he grinned. “You see, when I’m done here, I’m heading to my new band’s rehearsal...”

Where he would see Geralt for the first time in five days. He cursed the tiny flutter in his chest and focused on the girl again.

“Sorry. Not one of my best days,” he smiled. “Would you like to see the lute?”

The girl beamed. “Could I?”

“Sure. Why not?” he said, already on his way to get it. “You can even try to play it, if you want. Of course, it’s way too big and heavy for you, but it doesn’t really matter, you can try just for fun.”

He removed the lute from its casing and handed it to the girl.

“Just be careful, darling. Because I love her very, very much, and it would break my heart if anything was to happen to her.”

The door of the living room opened and a woman with her hair as dark as the kid walked in.

“I can’t hear any music. Is there a problem?”

The girl sighed, staring longingly at the lute.

“No,” Jaskier said quickly. “No problems. We’re just taking a little break, that’s all.”

“I’m not paying you for breaks, Jaskier.”

“Try the lute out, Emma,” he muttered to the girl. “I’m gonna have a little talk with mom, right?”

“There’s nothing to talk about–” the woman started, but Jaskier was already grabbing her by the arm.

“Yes, there is,” he said, leading her out of the room and closing the door behind them. “You’re way too hard on that girl, Stella. Go on, and she’ll start to either be afraid of you, or hate you. And maybe both.”

“If I’m not hard on her,” she sighed, “she will come home at seventeen, impregnated by some idiot who will then pretend he’s never seen her and the kid definitely isn’t his.”

Jaskier wanted to say You mean like you did?, but he held his tongue.

“I don’t see how being able to play the violin could help in that situation, if you don’t expect her to shove a bow up that boy’s ass.”

“If she’s busy, she won’t have time to spread her legs to random boys.”

“Jesus Christ, Stella, she’s… what, thirteen?!”

“Nearly fourteen. How old were you when you had sex for the first time?”

Jaskier’s eyes snapped to the door.

“I just turned sixteen, and you know it damn well.”

She smiled at him.

“Oh, yes. So young and innocent.”

“You still can’t see how fucked-up it was, right? You were nineteen, for fuck’s sake. And already had a kid!”

“It was you who was so desperate to get under my skirts back then, darling.”

“Yes, but you could have stopped me. Should have stopped me.”

“You were singing ballads about me. You kept sending me poems. I’m not made of stone. And you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Jaskier sighed and shook his head. He did, right. As fucked-up as it was. Well, of course he did. He was sixteen, and she was the girl he’d been having wet dreams about for months, his first muse…

“She hates the violin, you know?” he said, trying to change the subject.

“She will keep playing it.”

“Come on, Stella. I mean… I get it that you want to keep her busy, but you could at least let her play another instrument. Something she really enjoys.”

“Could I?” Stella smiled, arching her eyebrow. “I could, of course. But how will you convince me to actually allow it, Jaskier?”

Jaskier sighed inwardly. He knew where she was heading. He’d been through this a few times with her already. And he wasn’t really into it now, but hey, it could really help the girl and take his mind off a certain white-haired wolf… And anyway, he wasn't a guy who would turn down an offer for sex, was he? Sex was good. She was hot. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't Geralt.

So he put on his cocky smile and leaned closer to her.

“What would you like me to do?” he murmured. “My dear Countess de Stael?”

*

“What the fuck you mean he can’t make it?!” Geralt snarled.

“How am I supposed to know?” Renfri shrugged. “That’s all he texted me. Emergency lesson with a student, can’t make it today, postpone to tomorrow?”

“What the hell is an emergency lesson, anyway?” Lambert frowned. “Does someone’s life depend on learning Beethoven’s Fifth before sundown?”

“No idea. Should I call him?”

“Nah. It’s probably an excuse, anyway. I’d bet he’s just tangled in someone’s bed sheets right now.”

“That’s just great,” Geralt growled. “So the band can go fuck itself, because Jaskier can’t keep his cock in his pants, right?”

“Come on, Geralt,” Eskel smirked. “Lambert’s just being a prick. As usual.”

“I think he’s right, though,” Geralt sighed. “Jaskier is a… Jaskier.”

“A whore is the word you’re looking for,” Lambert said helpfully.

“He’s not,” Renfri shook her head. “He’s just… easily distracted. And falls madly in love with everyone he meets.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Geralt muttered. “If I find out he was… warming up his sausage instead of being here, I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re not,” Eskel said. “The battle of the bands is in a month, and I’d prefer not having to find another idiot who would be able to learn the lyrics and who can play the lute.”

“Hmmm.”

“And don’t hmmm me, Geralt. If you want to kill him, do it after the competition, you hear me?”

“Hmmm.”

“And I could kill him?” Lambert asked.

“Nobody’s killing anyone!” Eskel groaned. “Jesus Christ, I really hope someone’s life did depend on learning the Fifth before sundown...”

*

“So. I actually went to see you with your new band, Jaskier.”

Jaskier, who was just pulling up his underwear, paused.

“You did?” he frowned.

“Of course,” she smiled and stretched out on the bed, eyeing his cock.

“And?” Jaskier said, finally pulled his underwear all the way up and started to look for his pants. “Did you like it?”

“Honestly, I think it’s a tragedy,” she said. “To see you, with all your talent, in the middle of that… band of complete idiots.”

“I actually like those idiots, you know?” he sighed.

“Can’t really see why. But don’t worry, lovely. You were amazing, of course.”

“Oh, well. Thank you.”

“I still don’t understand why you insist on being in a band, though. You need to start your own solo career. That way, you would truly shine, gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Stella–”

“Excuse me?” she said, arching her eyebrow.

“Countess de Stael,” he corrected himself. “But I really enjoy being in a band. Especially in this band.”

“Life’s not just about things you enjoy, Jaskier. It’s about things that are good for you. Things that need to be done.”

“I know. But if you can, you should do what pleases you.”

“And what is it that pleases you, hm?”

He pulled a T-shirt over his head, trying to force a pair of amber eyes out of his mind.

“Right now? Playing with my band of idiots,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow. Night, Stella.”

*

Jaskier wasn’t late to the rehearsal next day. In fact, he was twenty minutes too early, just to be safe. He hoped he would make up for his absence the day before, especially to Geralt. Because according to Renfri, Geralt was mad at him. Which was fair, he supposed. He really should have let them know sooner that he wouldn’t be able to make it.

Still, he kind of prayed to the gods that the Wolf would arrive last, so he wouldn’t have to face him alone.

The Wolf arrived first, of course. With Renfri, but it made little difference.

“You could have at least covered the hickey,” Geralt said after taking a single look at the bard.

Jaskier winced.

“I wanted to. But the weather’s a bit hot for a scarf, so it would be pretty obvious anyway,” he muttered. “Look, I’m really sorry about yesterday–”

“Yeah, next time just text that you’ve got a date and don’t lie,” Geralt growled. “We know what you’re like, Jask, we won’t be surprised.”

That hurt. That really, really hurt.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry.”

Jaskier bit his lip and looked away. He’d lied because the last thing he wanted was to disappoint Geralt, but it seemed that was exactly what he did.

He must have looked utterly devastated, because Geralt actually sighed and a tiny smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he said. “Just… Please. I don’t like being lied to.”

“I won’t do it again. Promise.”

Renfri, who had been ostentatiously staying away from their drama, nudged Jaskier in the ribs.

“So who was it, eh? A new flame?”

“An old acquaintance, actually,” Jaskier smiled, glad for the distraction. “It’s an… on and off thing. We’ve known each other for a while. Spend a few weeks fucking occasionally, then go on with our lives.”

“Sounds horrible,” Geralt said.

“Well, it wasn’t the healthiest relationship when we started,” Jaskier admitted. Especially with the age difference. “But we’ve grown, and now we know exactly what we want from each other.”

She wants someone to obey her. I want a distraction.

“Sweet. What’s his name?” Renfri grinned.

“Her,” Jaskier said. “And well, if you need to know, she likes to be called Countess de Stael.”

“Even in bed?”

“Especially in bed.”

Geralt growled. “I really didn’t need to know that.”

“Oh, come on, Geralt. Don’t spoil the fun,” Renfri said. “Jaskier always tells us all about his newest conquests.”

“What conquests?” Lambert asked from the door. “So you were screwing some poor young maiden yesterday?”

“A Countess de Stael,” Renfri laughed.

“Oh, I’ve heard of her. Kinky. Good for you, I guess,” Lambert grinned. “Isn’t she older than you, though?”

“A bit, yeah,” Jaskier nodded. “But it really doesn’t matter. It’s just sex.”

“Right. From what I’ve heard, it would be extremely stupid to fall in love with her.”

“Extremely, yes,” Jaskier confirmed. “I actually managed to do it, a few years back. I was young and naive. I’m much smarter now.”

“Smart enough not to fall in love with someone you can’t have?”

“Dear gods, no. Never,” Jaskier chuckled. “Smart enough not to fall in love with her. I hope. Also, you’re a dick, Lambert.”

“Thanks. It’s one of my best qualities,” Lambert grinned.

“Oh, come on, guys, could you lighten up a little?” Renfri whined. “You’re making Geralt… Well, not sad. You’re making Geralt grumpy, and that’s even worse.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Geralt groaned.

“Oh, yes, you are,” Jaskier said. “Come on, Geralt, I said I was sorry. I promise I won’t do it again. Please, stop being mad at me. I won’t survive it if you keep being mad at me!”

A little smile tugged at Geralt’s lips.

“Of course you will survive, you overly dramatic prick.”

“No, I will not. I will die, knowing I will never see you smile at me again, my heart shattered to pieces, and it’s gonna be your fault.”

Geralt actually chuckled at that.

“Maybe you could ask the Countess to smile at you.”

“Yeah, I could. But she’s not you. Come on, Geralt.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “I can already feel my heart giving up, fluttering, trying desperately to–”

“You’re such a moron, Jask,” Geralt said.

“Are you smiling or not?” Jaskier grinned.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Damn you.”

“Honey, I’ve been damned since the day I was born.”

Geralt laughed.

“I’m glad to see you’re back to your old dramatics,” he said. “I was kind of worried for a while.”

Before Jaskier could reply, the door opened and Eskel stepped into the room.

“Oh. You’re all here. That’s new,” he blinked. “I come bearing good news. Well… maybe not.”

“Good news but maybe not?” Lambert frowned. “The fuck?”

“Vesemir called.”

“And he called you?” Geralt asked. “I mean… I’m obviously his favorite. Why didn’t he call me?”

“He did. You weren’t answering.”

“So… What’s going on?” Renfri said, just as Geralt fished his phone out of his leather jacket pocket, swearing.

“He got us a new gig. Full-length.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Jaskier grinned. “We needed a gig or two before the competition.”

“It’s tomorrow,” Eskel said.

“Oh,” Geralt muttered. “Fuck.”

*

Jaskier took a bite of his hamburger.

“Dear Lord, this is heaven,” he moaned. “I really was about to die of hunger. Thank you, Geralt, thank you so much!”

“I just ordered the food,” Geralt laughed when he swallowed a mouthful of his own burger. “But it was Renfri’s idea.”

“You’re free to keep the credit for it,” Renfri winked. “Have you tried the potato wedges yet? They’re awesome.”

“Are they?” Geralt grinned.

“Hey! Those are mine!” Jaskier protested.

“Were,” Geralt said, stuffing a few wedges into his mouth. “Oh, yes. Delicious.”

“Come on, Geralt,” Lambert mumbled. “How do you want to keep being skinny if you eat like a pig?”

“Maybe I don’t,” Geralt shrugged.

“Oh, so you’ve decided to grow that layer of nice, protective fat?” Jaskier asked.

“Maybe,” Geralt smiled. “And stop grinning like an idiot, Jask, and eat. We need to get back to work if we want to wrap up before midnight.”

*

In the end, they wrapped up at half past eleven, exhausted, but satisfied. Jaskier was about to drop dead, really, but he was happy. A few hours ago, he had been panicking about the gig, but now he felt ready for it. They rehearsed all the songs he hadn’t played with them before. They did it again, and again, and again.

“Good job tonight, Jask,” Geralt said, clasping his shoulder. “Can we drop you off at your place?”

“I’m not going home,” he sighed. His mind was a little fuzzy. “Wait, we?”

“I’m going with Geralt,” Renfri said. “Obviously, since I live with him.”

“You live in my house,” Geralt smirked. “In your own flat.”

“Shush. It sounds better when I say I live with you.”

“Whatever,” Geralt shrugged, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go, Jask.”

Jaskier blinked. “I just told you–”

“Yeah, you’re not going home. I get it,” Geralt nodded. “Just give her address to me, I’ll drive you there.”

“It’s fine, Geralt. I can walk. it’s not far–”

“That wasn’t a question, Jask. It’s nearly midnight and you’re tired, if you think I’m gonna let you walk… Well, you’re wrong. Let’s go.”

*

“Jaskier,” she said when she opened the door for him. “I almost stopped hoping you’d show up.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” he sighed. “Didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Well, you should have went home. You look horrible. And you’ve already disappointed me. I was looking forward to spending a nice evening with you, but you decided you’d rather be with that group of–”

“Stop,” Jaskier said. “Keep that tone for your toy boys, Stella. You know, those who are seven years younger than me and madly in love with you.”

“It used to work on you, too,” she smiled sweetly.

“Yeah, but I was seven years younger than I am now, and madly in love with you,” he smirked. “Do you want to fuck or not?”

“Look who’s showing his claws,” she laughed. “Come on, then. Do you want something to eat?”

“No, I’m not hungry,” he said, but then grinned. “Well, I am, but… not like that.”

“Oh? What are you hungry for, then?”

“I think you know,” he muttered. “My dear Countess.”

“Good boy,” she nodded. “Let’s get you to bed.”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfiction #the bard and the wolf #my fics

[embarrassingsmartphonegame]

Anything (Chapter 4) - Nik Ryder x f!MC

Summary: After surviving an attempt on her life, she discovers there are worse fates than dying. And they’re all ice cold.

Warnings for this chapter: swear words, very slightly NS*W, some secondhand embarrassment probably

Links to previous chapters: one // two // three

Leah Mendoza had done many, many awkward things in her life. And at least half of them involved her losing her clothes in some way, shape, or form; case in point: the time they revealed their secrets and underwear in the Fate’s mansion. But that night, she would’ve preferred facing the Fate in her underwear as she stared down her...former bodyguard? Ex? Guy she ran from once he started reciprocating her love after a week that culminated in a death experience for her? Well, what she called him didn’t matter, but it had been at least a few minutes and he was still staring at her in shock. She squirmed in her seat and briefly considered taking him to the ER to make sure nothing (at least nothing more than what she already knew) was wrong with him. But she sat there and let him take his time to process her practically breaking into his apartment after she disappeared for three months. 

“Umm…Nik?” Leah finally said something after a few more awkward minutes, the silence getting to her. She stood up and started walking towards him, and Nik seemed to snap out of his trance and immediately tackled her to the floor. She yelped as he pinned her to the ground with his body, his eyes dark. “Hey!”

“Shapeshifter, you’ve gone too far. I’m only gonna ask you this once: how the fuck did you get this form? How did you find her and what did you do?” His hands shook with unadulterated rage as they pinned hers above her head, and she shivered at the hateful look in his eyes.

“Nik, stop, it’s really me! Garrus let me in!” Leah pleaded, hoping that this wouldn’t be how she actually goes. “I can prove it if you let me up!”

“Nice try. I’ve given you too many chances. Hope hell is nice.” Shit. In a panic, Leah’s super strength suddenly kicked in and she surged forward and managed to flip their positions too quickly for him to react. Without thinking, she slipped her shirt off as she straddled him, exposing the three crimson, raised linear keloid scars on her chest. Another awkward moment that involved her stripping down to avoid certain death. She blushed as Nik laid there beneath her. He studied her scars and realization dawned on his face.

“Would a shapeshifter know what this looks like? Would they know what happened?” she questioned softly, vulnerable and exposed in more ways than one. She slowly got off him and slipped her shirt back on. Nik sat up and got off the ground, in a state of shock in his eyes again. She couldn’t tell if the blue-purple-almost black bags under his eyes were due to lack of sleep or getting punched in the face, and the dreadful part of her knew it was most likely due to both. She noted his new grown out stubble into a full beard and longer hair, and her usual inner dumbass would’ve thought it was hot if the hair clearly wasn’t grown due to him not caring. Leah decided to start saying what she needed to say to him.

“I...I came to apologize,” she began, awkwardly sitting on the floor with him and gazing sincerely into his eyes. “For how things turned out between us. I ran because I was afraid of everything that had happened and what I found out about my life, and hurt you in the process. You don’t need to forgive me; I wouldn’t forgive myself. I’m sorry. That’s all.”

Her open palm reached out and squeezed his hand one last time before she started to get up, but his hand found hers again and pulled her back. “Wait.”

And oh, would she have waited forever if he asked. Nik looked at her with what seemed to be fresh eyes, as if he was seeing her for the first time. He studied her intently and carefully placed his hand on her cheek. Leah felt extremely self conscious about her own messy, grown out hair and dark purple eye bags, and even more about her unintentional weight loss and old hickeys on her neck. He ran his rough fingers gently over the side of her face.

“R—Leah…” he quickly corrected himself, remembering that things weren’t the same as they were before. “You’re really here.”

“I am, Nik. I’m here.”

“But how? Why?”

“I needed to make things right with us. What happened...I couldn’t live with myself. Especially knowing from Ivy, Krom, and Garrus how you are now.”

“I mean...you’re not exactly in the best shape either. No offense.” His own tired eyes searched hers, and she could see the steel walls stacked flush against each other in an impenetrable fortress guarding his heart. “Is that it? Because you knew—and I told you this when I was being an idiot at that time—that I wouldn’t be fine. And I do have another job in a few hours.”

Leah shook her head. “No, it’s not. And to be honest, I’m scared to let this all out. You probably won’t wanna hear it; I should let you get to sleep.”

Nik seemed to think for a moment. “Try me. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.” 

He pulled her up and led her to his couch. They kept a careful distance apart so that they were close enough for whoever was brave enough to reach out but far enough that they weren’t too tempted. His expression was in a perfectly neutral expression, save for a furrow on his left eyebrow that indicated the smallest form of curiosity. She couldn’t see through his steel walls that he built around himself the night she left, and her heart sank in realization that he probably hated her after all this time. Leah steeled herself and began talking.

“So I ran back to my life in Wyoming, even though I was planning on leaving my job anyway even before I came to New Orleans. But after everything that happened...I just couldn’t take it. And when you were out of my life...I felt nothing. Absolutely...nothing. I was going through the daily motions of my shitty office job and paying the bills. I tried to dance again, tried to sing, tried to play the violin. Tried to find anything, anything to fill the void. Found other people and had a different person in my bed each night...still nothing,” she puffed out all in one breath, noting how Nik inhaled sharply at her last statement yet stayed silent, allowing her to continue. “I woke up in an empty apartment every day and it was exactly like Katherine said, I was freezing to death in absolutely nothing. And when I...died...I felt nothing. Going back to my old life without you...it felt like I was dead.” 

Nik couldn’t believe what he was hearing; his heart pounded in his chest. “You really mean that?”

“Yes,” she continued her confession. “I’m not expecting anything and know that this entire thing might even be selfish when you’re trying to move on with your life, but I wanted you to at least know that I’m really sorry for how things ended between us.”

Nik stayed silent for a moment before he became the brave one and reached for her hand. He interlaced their fingers together, and she found comfort in the warmth of his calloused, dirty palm against hers. “Dammit Leah...you know I’m not good at this stuff and that’s what caused all this in the first place.”

She laughed mirthlessly. “You’re talking to the girl who ran back to Wyoming of all places after you told me you loved me.”

Nik shook his head and began to speak, hoping his words were right this time. 

“I couldn’t move on, not after everything that happened between us. It’s why I’ve been working so much. I never would’ve pushed you away at the parade if I knew it might’ve been the last time I saw you. When you were on the ground, bleeding and cold and dead…” Leah could’ve sworn she heard him choke on his words, but she let him continue. “I thought loving someone was scarier than anything...I was wrong. The scariest thing was losing you.”

Boom. Leah heard the metaphorical walls crash down. She had never seen him look so vulnerable, even when she left him three months before. Matching his bravery, she cautiously wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against the crook of his neck. His arms found their way around her smaller form, and he squeezed her as if his life depended on it. The pair stayed like that for God knows how long, letting a few tears slip out. As the sun began to rise, they finally let go and faced each other.

“Where do we go from here?” Leah asked, playing with the shorter hairs on the nape of his neck. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to hear me out. I thought you hated me by now.”

Nik pressed his forehead against hers. “I could never hate you...rook.”

Her heart soared at cadence of the familiar nickname, and she smiled genuinely. Nik felt his heart leap at her smile, and it took all of his willpower not to surge forward and take things too far. It didn’t feel right. He instead continued, “It’s your call. But I will say this: nothing about my feelings for you have changed. You...you still make me feel like a real person.”

Leah thought about it for a moment before continuing to speak genuinely. “Well...nothing about my feelings for you have changed either. But I’m still a fucking wreck…like therapy for life level wreck.”

Nik nodded tersely, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I understand.”

“Wait wait wait,” Leah quickly clarified, taking his hands in hers. “I may be a wreck who needs to get her life together, but if I learned anything, it’s that I don’t want just anything. I want you. Only you. Just maybe...we should take it slow? That week we had was way too fast. And I’m not gonna count me sitting on you with my shirt off last night.”

“I...can’t say I disagree.” Nik chuckled softly, reminiscing. “No other job could compare since then.”

“Just a job?” she teased, her heart lighter than it had been for a while.

“At this point I’d call it a career,” he teased back, their old dynamic naturally resurfacing. At the mention of a career, Leah groaned, yanking herself back from la-la land.

“I literally came back to New Orleans because I was so miserable with my job and life in Wyoming. I’m definitely fired for this, but I’m not too upset about it. Just don’t know what to do for work now.”

“Do you really have no ideas?”

“Well I do have one.” She stared down at the palms of her hands. “I haven’t been able to use my powers since my father died, and I was considering training under Lady Thalissa’s wing and helping out with Lamrian. I still feel guilty that they’re in this situation because of me.”

“Rook, you know that happened ‘cuz your punk ass brother let that thing in,” Nik said firmly, cradling her hands in his. “And if you’re sure you’re ready, that sounds like a great idea.”

“I’m really not sure, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.” Leah focused all of her energy into the palms of her hands, willing them to glow. But nothing. Zilch. Nada. She sighed, figuring that it might be better when she arrived in Lamrian.

“So...wanna explain why you tackled me earlier and thought I was a shapeshifter?” she changed the subject, genuinely curious. 

Nik rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, a few weeks ago I kinda pissed off this shapeshifter by putting his brother in jail for grave robbing. No idea why he was grave robbing, but that’s besides the point. Had it out for me since and transformed himself into Garrus, Krom, and Ivy at least a few times since he’s seen me pretty much only go in and out of the Graveyard Shift if I’m not on a job. When I saw you, I thought that maybe the bastard somehow found out about us and got to you and…”

He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you, of all people, getting hurt. Especially because of me. Not again.”

Leah hugged him again, rubbing circles on his back. “Well, I’m here to stay. I’m not leaving you again. I hope things work out for me in Lamrian. If not...Garrus did offer me a job earlier.”

For the first time in a long time, she felt her optimism creep back up. Maybe things were going to be okay after all, even if she really didn’t know what she was doing with her life at that point.

“So when do you wanna do this?” Nik asked. “Going to Lamrian? I’m going with you.”

“Nik, you’ve already done so much for me; you don’t have to. Also, don’t you have a bunch of other jobs lined up already?”

Nik shrugged. “My next job just told me they want that ghoul gone by the end of the week. I got time. And I want to be with you.”

Leah nodded, secretly relieved that she didn’t have to go alone. “Thank you, Nik. But maybe we should at least get some sleep before then? And you should rest that limp. I’ll go back to my motel and see you back here in a few hours.”

A sudden wave of exhaustion immersed them both; neither of them had gotten much sleep in the past three months. Nik was about to pull her closer and tell her she could stay but decided against it. They did say they wanted to take things slow, whatever that meant for them. Instead he nodded and called a cab for her, knowing with contentedness that he would see her again. Eventually Leah ended up back at her motel, and both slept well in the same city for the first time in forever. Everything was finally different for her, and this time she couldn’t help but be glad.

==============================================

A/N: Lol updating schedule? What updating schedule? This chapter came out a lot faster than the previous one due to me finally learning how to procrasti--I mean, practice self care in med school. Changed my mind a few times for how many chapters total; there are 2 more chapters of this story left before I work more on my next Nightbound series. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading 🖤

Tagging: @furiouscloddonutpeanut @nighthunterkatherine @saivilo @samara-rani @god-save-the-keen @xxdangerouscapri15xx @inlovewithrebels 

#nightbound #playchoices #choices: stories you play #nik ryder #nik x mc #nik ryder x mc #choices fanfiction #playchoices fanfiction #choices #pixelberry #nightbound nik #phoebe writes choices

[strekkingur]

music hcs

Since music is such a huge part of my character, it’s about time I do this. (Also bc I’ve been stuck watching violin youtubers for the last few days.) A disclaimer: mun has no musical education whatsoever, everything you read here is based on years of research. I’ve held a violin exactly once in my life. :’D

For starters: Eiríkur is a classically trained violinist (and pianist).

He also plays the piano though in the modern day he prefers the violin by large. He’s more ambitious about bettering his skills on the violin while with the piano he’s kinda comfortable where he is.

In the modern day he mostly plays the piano for fun whereas, with the violin, he has a rigorous training schedule, around 2-3 hours every day, spliced into 30-60 minutes sessions throughout the day.

He also sings and has a nice, clear and melodic tenor voice but he can be a bit shy about performing in front of an audience. He does vocal training every other day as well. You can often hear him singing or humming something under his breath when he thinks no-one is around to hear.

He most likely started his music hobby with a harpsichord in the 1600s before moving to what we now know as pianos and started violin sometime during the 18th century. And I say 18th century because this is when his health became very poor. He could no longer do the active, outdoorsy things he had enjoyed before but he could practice music indoors, and the violin could even be brought to his bed when he was too weak to get up.

The original hc is that Norway taught him to play instruments (because back in the day the whole fandom had a crush on Alexander Rybak... myself included) but this depends on the hcs of the Norways I rp with. It’s just as likely that Eiríkur had human music tutors. I wouldn’t be surprised if he also took lessons from Austria at some point but this far I haven’t hc’d stuff like that with any Austria rp-er. (Also relating to this hc there’s the hc that Eiríkur quit playing the violin between 1814-1905... it simply became too painful after Nor left. He started the violin again when Norway gained independence and he thus knew Nor wasn’t coming back for him... it provides him with a connection to his estranged sibling.)

In the modern day he owns a grand piano and two violins... probably has an acoustic guitar somewhere, too. I would assume he has tried viola, cello and flute at some point as well but always comes back to the violin. All of his instruments and sheet music are stored in the music room, down the hall in the second story of his house.

His violins have names: Braga and Listalín! Although Eiríkur never really calls them by the names aloud, you might sometimes catch him referring to his violins with feminine pronouns (the word fiðla (violin) is feminine and in Icelandic, the word “it” (það) is only used for words that are neutral gender whereas masculine and feminine words use hann and hún respectively - same words you use for personal pronouns he and she yeah it gets confusing sometimes as a language learner).

Braga (the feminine form of the male name Bragi, the Old Norse god of poetry) is the older of the two violins, most like made in Tyrol in the 18th century. She is a semi-modern violin, crafted during the transitional period so she has some baroque features. She is Eiríkur’s most priced possession. Listalín (list = art, lín = flax/linen in Icelandic, the name can be understood as “woven art”) is a modern violin crafted in Saxony or Bohemia sometime in the 19th or 20th century. Listalín is the violin he usually travels with when he knows he’s going to stay away from home for more than a week. (He doesn’t like being separated from instruments and being without practice for long periods of time.)

Oh, but don’t talk to him about electric violins (or really any electric versions of classical instruments) unless you want to hear a rant. Wood is the only right way to go for him as far as string instruments are considered. Keyboards are fine though. Not his favourite instrument but he can understand that moving a grand or upright piano is a pain in the ass. So at least he’s not mad at the existence of electric keyboards.

Eiríkur has the perfect pitch. Basically, this gives him the annoying and quite enviable talent of hearing music and being able to play it near perfectly right after and correctly naming the note being played on an instrument or the pitch in everyday sounds on his first try. (He can also imitate random sounds like bird calls on his violin for fun and is scarily good at it.) It is not something he was born with but a result of spending centuries playing music... it would be rather strange if he hadn’t developed any slightly superhuman skills in it yet I think. (He also says it helps that most modern pop music only repeats the same four chords thorough the song so it’s not hard to memorise and copy it.)

Does he compose? Sometimes, I’d say. He likes improvisation (the perfect pitch makes that extra easy for him) but rarely writes any of his music down. And by the next time he plays it, he’s likely going to tweak some part of it. It depends a lot on his mood: sometimes he plays it faster, sometimes slower, sometimes he changes the whole key of the piece, sometimes he adds new bars that just popped in his head, or mixes and matches his own music with a few bars from existing pieces. What I’m trying to say is that it’s rarely the same twice.

Eiríkur likes classical and instrumental music but that isn’t to say he hates pop. He listens to a lot of pop music these days though his music taste can be a bit strange (I often refer to his favourite band as ‘space music’). He likes music that evokes emotions and also music where they do something new and interesting or use some cool trick or melody pattern. He’s a bit of a music hipster, he can try almost any genre but tends to somewhat dislike mainstream pop and rap (he doesn’t get rap at all). His favourite genres are experimental, indie, ambient, postrock, chamber pop, dream pop, shoegaze... you get the drift. Lofi and chillwave would be right up his alley as well. In case you were ever wondering what he listens to when he wears earphones 24/7.

Overall, music is one of the most important things to him in the world. He discovered it during the darkest times of his life and it helped keep his spirits up while he clawed his way back from nearly dying. Especially in modern day, when the past weighs heavily inside him and he often struggles to express himself, music can speak his emotions where words fail him. (I seriously wouldn’t put it past him to reply a question of “how are you?” by linking or showing a song to the asker.) Music is a comfort, it’s an escape, it’s peace and calm when his head and heart are in turmoil. It’s a connection to his estranged family (if we go with the Norway taught him hc), it’s something he loves and is extremely passionate about.

And the last one... I’ll put multiple small hcs here: Eiríkur has a highly visible (because his skin is so pale) violin hickey on the left side of his neck. He knows some Italian from musical terms. Oh, and he has yet to forgive Austria for burning a piano on Eurovision a few years back. Yes, it was a fake piano but all instruments should be treated with respect!

#many are difficult to see through (headcanons) #major headcanons #//also I'm extra sensitive about these hcs being stolen so like... don't do it #they've been stolen before which is why I've kinda hesitated writing them out again #like these are literally my oldest hcs and the very basis of my portrayal on Eiki