#my little piano: music is magic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m0nsterqzzz · 9 days

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word count: 3k

- Liar Liar -

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack.

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives.

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

#wanda maximoff x you #marvel x reader #marvel #the scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel x you #piano

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juneberrie · 10 months

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VIOLINIST GF — ATSV HEADCANONS . . . 🎻

characters : 1610 ! miles morales, earth-42 ! miles morales, pavitr prabhakar

author's note : this is very self indulgent sorry nawt sorry >:)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 1610 ! MILES MORALES

okay so in middle school his parents made him take piano so he can kind of help with reading sheet music if ur struggling with it

sooo encouraging!! he loves hearing u play and will literally applaud u. even if u play just like. twinkle twinkle little star or something he's so whipped and he just thinks you're amazing <3

has an entire sketchbook thats just filled up with drawings and sketches of you playing the violin. he'll sit and watch you practice and think, she looks so pretty. and BAM sketchbook is out and you're now his muse :]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ EARTH-42 ! MILES MORALES

woooahhhhh he's impressed!!! liek, very very impressed!! bc your fingers r moving so fast and does your wrist not hurt and is it hard to make sure youre playing the notes right and not screeching???

after going out and doing his prowler thingy, he loves coming home to hear you practicing whatever piece you're learning

its v calming to him!

whenever ur away and ur violin is out, he'll like. put rosin on ur bow, clean off any smudges, organize ur sheet music, literally just be cute and make life easier for u!!

omg and on the topic of him spoiling his gf, him buying you violin related things? little charms, earrings with violins on them, stuff like that <3

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ PAVITR PRABHAKAR

literally!! your biggest!! mfing!!! supporter!!! does NAWT give a shit if your violin is out of tune (like mine rn ughhhh) or if it was screechy or if you messed up he thinks u did amazing and he'll gonna tell you!

"my angel, you were amazing!! it sounded so magical <3"

i feel like pav knows how to play an instrument, and for ... purposes (😊) that instrument is the viola >:)

he'll listen to whatever your playing and then he learns it for himself on his viola. so he can surprise you!!!

i think violas have some different notes? (idk im not a violist lmao) so he does have a bit of trouble when he reads off your sheet music but he figures it out pretty quickly!

omg him doing duets w you!! he forces hobie and miles and gwen to watch ur impromptu recitals and glares at them until they clap

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months

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Editor’s note: This hypothetically open letter was originally posted by its anonymous author on Medium and was rapidly removed as “hate speech.” We found it to be a refreshing dose of honesty, a charming and relatable open letter from one parent to other parents (not to the child, obviously!) about dealing with a challenging and dangerous moment in raising children, especially “weird” adolescents who search for their identities harder than others and risk making life-damaging mistakes in a way never before possible. We are reposting it here on New Discourses with the permission of the author.

By: Donna M.

Published: Mar 5, 2021

My dear, sweet, son,

I’ve got to break it to you: you’re not trans, you’re just weird.

This seems like a cruel thing to point out right now. Clearly, you are struggling and feeling pretty awful about things. I can see that you are in a rough patch, and one of the first rules of parenting is to not pile on. The world is pretty heavy on your shoulders. You’re fifteen. There’s a pandemic going on. But here I come anyway. I’m about to throw more on you.

When you were two – a happy, chubby, little tyke in pull-ups, you watched the world with wary eyes behind the thumb in your mouth. You leapt with joy in the rhythm of the toddle music classes. You chattered and shared stories about your stuffed animals. You loved your little sister. Enjoyed cookies and finger painting. That was all pretty normal.

But you also started to count to one thousand on our walks. And you started to call out the store names as we drove around. And you preferred reading books rather than playing with the other two-year-olds at preschool. And you hated sitting in the circle when instructed. And you hated the feel of blue jeans. And you threw big tantrums when you lost any kind of game. In other words, you started to show signs that you were… weird.

The grandparents were the first to notice. They said gentle things like “You oughta keep an eye on that one,” and sent us links to Wall Street Journal articles about child prodigies. And then the other parents in the play groups started to comment; “He’s pretty intense, huh?” And the teachers were on to it pretty quickly. They started to use fancy terms like “asynchronous development.”

By third grade, we realized you were different, but we still didn’t realize you were weird. Truthfully, we’re used to people like you. Our family is full of engineers, artists, musicians, computer programmers, and a lot of “free-thinkers.” Family gatherings always have chess, political debates, and quartets around the piano. That’s just us.

And besides, you had a small but solid group of friends. There was Pokémon, then Minecraft, then Magic, then Dungeons and Dragons, then Catan. You were never in the center of things, but you weren’t alone.

But then, in middle school, things started to change. By 7th grade, school finally started to require some effort, and it turned out you were pretty disorganized. People kept calling you smart, but the teachers were annoyed at your humor, and frustrated that you wouldn’t or couldn’t follow the guidelines for assignments. Classmates didn’t appreciate your frank (if accurate) descriptions of their efforts. I’ll admit, we got pretty frustrated with you, too.

And then puberty arrived, with its triple curse of acne, braces, and bizarre growth. The girls appeared to have it all together (I know they don’t, but they do appear that way). And the popular boys seemed to know exactly what to do. They can talk sports to each other, they brag about their romantic exploits. They never get in trouble for stupid reasons like forgetting an assignment three times in a row. Your anxiety started to kick in, and it seemed like you got smaller. And some of your guy friends moved on.

So you drifted over to the weird-o crowd. Well — I’m not sure what you call yourselves, but that’s what we would have called you back when I was in school. At different schools these are the geeks, or the theater kids, the math team kids, or the artsy-fartsy kids. This used to be where the gay kids ended up, but I think they’re more dispersed now. You get some kids whose parents are going through some rough times. Some girls with anorexia. A few boys who are edgy and angry. Kids with a great sense of humor and big hearts.

And some of these kids are really passionate. Just full of righteous anger about the injustices of the world. And some of them are dramatic. And truthfully, that looks pretty attractive to you. Because you share some of that confusion and anger about the world. And though you may not be sure what you think or what you feel, you are certain you don’t want to be on the bad side. You certainly aren’t like those popular boys with their suave charm and dominating manners. You’re not like them at all.

You’re actually more like those vibrant girls who can speak for hours about their ideas. Well, you would be if you could find the words to speak. And there is something so fascinating about those girls, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. You’d never think about talking to those girls anyway, because that’d be weird. Because you are weird. You’ve never been good at chit-chat, or eye contact. Or girls. And besides, you wouldn’t want them to get the wrong impression. You understand that your peers are starting to date, but you really don’t see the point. Sex is still gross and weird to you. It’s better to just call yourself “asexual” or “pansexual.” It’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card that helps you avoid the whole mess. And your group of friends tell you that you are super cool and brave for being able to say that about yourself.

But you’ve fallen into a funk. Anyone can see that. But computer games help. And there’s always trying to beat the speed record for that one game you’re kinda good at. And that one guy on reddit always has good tricks. And the people on that message board seem to get your humor.

So when one of them posts a meme about trans rights, it makes sense that you’d check it out. You’re curious! You’re a free thinker! You’re not like the normies. And the web quiz hits home. You do feel discomfort with your body. You don’t like sports. You do wonder what it would be like to be a girl. You’ve always felt like something was different about you.

You’re right. There is something different about you.

But you’re not trans, you’re just weird.

So we’re right here for you. We’ll always be here for you. But those online folks who urge you to “crack your trans egg” and rush to hormones and surgeries don’t know you at all. They don’t know that gifted kids and ADHD kids and Autism kids and Asperger’s kids are slower to develop emotionally and sexually. They don’t know that sexuality takes time and experience to figure out, and that the majority of trans teens seeking medical treatment haven’t even masturbated or kissed someone yet. They don’t know that 80% of trans children end up becoming comfortable with their birth sex if you just give them time. They don’t know that there are increasing numbers of desisting and de-transitioning people in their twenties. They don’t realize that hormones permanently stunt your growth, decrease your IQ, and can cause sterility. They don’t know that these hormones are prescribed off-label and there’s no research on the long-term outcomes. They don’t even know that the most recent research shows that short-term outcomes are clearly worse.

They don’t realize that you’re weird. But I do. You’re weird, kiddo. You’ll figure that out in a year or two. But that’s okay. We are all weird. And I love you anyway. You’re going to be just fine.

You always hear stories and justifications like, "she never liked wearing a dress," or "he always hated having his hair cut." This is post-hoc confirmation bias. Not only does this confirm everything critics say about this being a movement based on gross stereotypes, but they always leave out things like, "she refused to eat anything yellow," and "he was obsessed with elevator and crossing buttons and would cry if he wasn't the one to light it up."

It's okay to be weird.

#Donna M #gender identity #gender ideology #queer theory #genderwang #trans egg #it's okay to be weird #it's ok to be weird #normalize weird #religion is a mental illness

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atalienart · 6 months

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what's your favorite musical instrument?

I don't know. I like the piano but I also like strings, especially when there's a lot of them playing. (Also my character plays the viola so... I'm a little biased xD) Anyway, every instrument can be magical so it's hard to choose.

#q&a #my art

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milgram-tournament · 4 months

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MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 1, Match 9 CAT vs. THE PURGE MARCH

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for CAT:

"You like jazz? Jazz is chaos within order. Got to love the whole band. Vibraphone, saxophone, trumpet, flute, piano, guitar, drums, bass… Go, rhythm section, go! The song sounds tender at times and aggressive at others as different instruments pop up at different times. Sometimes they follow Kazui’s voice (“follow the king of the masquerade”). Sometimes they get to be the focus. You have the chill piano one moment and the screaming guitar in the next.

You’ve got a lovely “jingle” (“Lie until it gets better…”) which occurs at the beginning, middle, and end. It fits the “newspaper ad” style of the video really well. Also at the very end, there’s one more line that gives the jingle an upward contour, giving a sense of finality. “Until you can meet the king of the masquerade.” You’re there now.

The two verses start off differently before they take on a similar melody. It feels like Kazui is talking to a different person in each verse.

The chorus is a beautiful façade the first time and a sinister truth the second time.

The opening for solos shows that this jazz song means business. I love how the saxophone and trumpet especially get in your face. And with the tacet on vocals, the walking bass really shines if you lend it your ear.

And the smoke break! Silence is golden. Glass click. Lighter. Huff.

As always, Kazui’s voice is super deep. He hits even lower notes this time around. He’s a fifth lower than the next lowest singers (Haruka and Shidou)."

---

-Great instrumental choice. Kazui and jazz is *chefs kiss*

-Symbolism. THE SYMBOLISM. I can’t type out all my thoughts but ifykyk

-The almost comic like style of the MV is really appealing.

-Lyrics!! There is so much to unpack but it’s really cool.

-Kazui eating the dove… fricken iconic.

---

FIRST OF ALL the vocals????? BEAUTIFUL. His va put his whole pussy into this song and you can tell!! The way he sings the chorus is so damn addicting I'm so in love with him. His voice is more or less stable throughout the entire thing until the final chorus but you can hear the emotion peaking out which fits perfectly with Kazui keeping everything hidden. The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper during "all the things I wanna do that I can't say outloud"??? The way his voice starts trembling during "this feeling it's yearning to be satisfied"???? The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper AND starts trembling during "hey, if I said I liked-liked you, what would you?"?????? HEAVENLY! You can really feel how afraid Kazui is under his disguise and my heart breaks a little everytime I listen. Not to mention how absolutely powerful his voice gets at the climax!!!!!! It's insane!!!!!!! It's genius!!!!!! It makes me wild makes me crazy makes me eat my walls!!!!!!!!!!

THE SMOKE BREAK?????? What other song has something as powerful as that huh???? This isn't just a song produced by the milgram machine using his memories, this is HIS song and he is OWNING IT! The music builds up so much and gets so intense right before it, I can literally feel myself get tense and starting holding my breath right before he takes the break and everything relaxs… it's not just a break for him, but a break for the viewer. The song is spiralling out of control just like his life and his lies and he has no choice but to put it to a quick stop before its too much to handle.

THE IMAGERY IS WILD!!!!! He's a magician!!! Little magic guy!!!! Using tricks and lies to amaze and captivate the people around him! Trying desperately to magic his own feelings into something else! But it's all fake! It's all tricks and no matter how hard he tries he can never actually change himself into what he wants! But he's trying to convince himself the same way he's convinced his audience!! And when you're watching a magic act, are you there for the magician themself or are you there to watch the show?? The people in his life only cared for him when he performed for them, but they didn't give a drop of love to who he was a person! ALSO the transformation of the wedding ring to a cigarette to the dove at the end??? Makes me wild every single time! Right infront of his wife, he showed her that their marriage was something unhealthy for him that was slowly killing him from the inside. AND THEN he uses it to harm himself???? And then he turns that cigarette into a dove- a representation of love and literally TEARS INTO IT. He tears his marriage apart with his mouth!!! AKA HIS WORDS. makes me wild. Also fun fact Kazui says he started smoking because when he was younger it was "just natural for everyone to smoke" and that lines up with his reasons for marriage perfectly.

Kazui looks really hot in it. You should vote for Cat because Kazui is insanely attractive. What other reason do you need huh? Hot gay middle aged man.

Propaganda for THE PURGE MARCH:

"Despite the shorter length, the Purge March has several distinct sections in its structure.

It starts with a rolloff, and then… they don’t follow it. Amane isn’t here to follow the beat.

There’s the spoken-word intro and the upbeat first verse listing the tenets. The prechorus (“dou shiyou mo nai…”) has an amen break. The most-sampled four-bar drum beat. Well, there’s half of it. Is it supposed to mean something? Can I get an amen?

The chorus is so, so cheerful… unless you’re actually listening to the lyrics (“I’ll crush your throat too”) or watching the video. And it’s super catchy.

The second part of the verse dials things back. Now we’re in reality. This is how Amane breaks her tenets. All the while, those tenets are spoken into both ears over the singing. Get some good headphones. She sounds different in each ear.

The music picks up again with the amen break as Amane happily strolls back home, and then-

Oh.

The somber second chorus, with Amane’s lower singing voice and mournful spoken words, leads into the final chorus, with new lyrics and a more forceful tone. The once-meaningless chanting now has real words. “You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please go ahead and die already.” You can hear Amane’s anger despite the cheerful melody. She harmonizes in the final phrase, as if to say “we’re in this together, me and my little color guard troop.” And finally, it’s just her. Speaking. "Oboetemasuka?" Accompanied by only a single drum.

She is both Amane Momose and not. She upholds the doctrines that she was raised with, but she can’t."

---

"Purge March is geniunaly one of my favorite pieces of fiction both in and out of the context of trauma. Its fantastically directed and composed. The batton twirling is spetacular and energetic, the set and character design of Amane conveys a lot about the world she’s in and the story she’s telling. Purge March contextulizes a lot of Magic in both expected and unexpected ways (insert the entire cat symbolism thesis here) Purge March casts Amane in the role of a scary child. The glowing eyes, the framing of Amane as Above the viewer, the brutality and catharsis of it all. It seems tailored made to make you Scared of her. It’s a continuation of the cycle of abuse that we the audience repeated in T1 when we gave her that verdict. A red flashing warning sign about the Inhumanity and Monsterous qualities of Amane Momose. But Amane as a monster is fufilling and freeing. Again, its deeply cathartic. I would write more if I wasnt so sleepy at the moment but its just some Fantastic work overall. Purge March is also just fantasitic vocally and also hids electricity sounds in the instrumental which I think is evil and awesome."

---

-Amane’s vocals and how they slowly get more and more off the deep end is both really sad and cool to watch.

-The symbolism of the marching band and the flags. Ifykyk

-The beginning where it sounds like a propaganda TV show… really shows just how far Amane’s thinking is rooted in her cult and how that’s shaped her perception.

-The LYRICS. They work so well but it’s also creepy AF considering it’s a child who’s singing it.

-“So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me!”

-The overlapping part… gives me chills everytime.

-Building off the last point, the last “I’ll crush your throat too.” Ouch.

-“Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?”

-The song also does a great job of showing how much the guilty verdict messed with her.

127 notes · View notes

ironboyxs · 3 months

Text

Unseen Hearts

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Felix x Male Reader

Word Count: 4652

Summary: Y/N is a young actor and singer on the rise who has great admiration for Stray Kids, especially a certain member with a huskier voice.

p.s. this is the first time I write about kpop on this blog, I hope you like it! In fact, I was extremely inspired because I've never written so much! and another thing: I mention a Korean ideogram in the story, I tried to do my research but my Korean is terrible, forgive any mistakes. and always remembering REQUESTS ARE OPEN, in the pinned there are the fandons for which I write

You never thought you would be in a serious relationship with a K-pop artist. Of course, you've been a fan of Korean culture since you were 13 and a friend introduced you to the concept of K-pop, dramas and all the rest.

You were lucky enough to have well-off parents who let you study Korean from the age of 13 because you had become completely obsessed with everything about Korea.

But obviously your life didn't revolve around just that, of course you went to shows whenever you could, once you even got a trip to South Korea as a gift to go to a fan meeting.

But one thing that the idol life showed you was that you also wanted to be an artist, you were in doubt between acting and music. After all, you were good at both. In school plays you always got the lead.

Your mother played the piano and from a very early age taught you everything she knew about music, so one of your hobbies, and also a form of therapy, was writing songs.

When you were 18, a family friend who worked for Netflix knew he had a casting call that was a perfect fit for you. You took the test, with zero faith that you would pass.

But it ended up happening, the series was about a fantasy world, four wizard friends fighting an evil entity, you had a lot of fun recording the first season, you made incredible friends, but you never thought the series would be successful.

Until it exploded. And it became the number 1 series on Netflix, with everyone talking about it. And obviously you and your co-stars started doing press tours.

Jimmy Fallon Show

- Hey guys! Welcome back to the Tonight Show! Today we have a very special guest, a talented young man who is having great success with the new Netflix series: Witchbound Chronicles. Let's welcome the amazing Y/N! How are you, Y/N?

- Hi Jimmy! I'm great, thanks for having me here.

- It's a pleasure to have you. Firstly, congratulations on the success of your series! What has the experience been like seeing your face everywhere?

- It's surreal, Jimmy. I never imagined things would happen so quickly. I'm just enjoying every moment.

- This is amazing! Tell us a little about the series. What can fans expect?

- Well, the series is called "Witchbound Chronicles" and it takes place in a completely new world full of magic, fantastic creatures and lots of exciting twists. I play one of the main characters, a young man named Ethan, who discovers he has incredible magical abilities.

- This looks amazing! And what was the audition process like to get the role?

- It was a little crazy, actually. I auditioned without much expectation, and when I got the call that I had gotten the role, I couldn't believe it. It was a dream come true.

- And what was it like working with the cast and crew?

- Everyone was incredible. The cast is very talented, and the team behind the cameras did an incredible job bringing this magical world to life. I learned a lot from all of them.

- I'm sure fans would love to know if there are any funny or interesting behind-the-scenes stories you can share.

- Oh, definitely! One day, we were filming a scene with intense special effects, and one of the animatronics that plays the magical creatures ended up going out of control. It was hilarious to see everyone running for cover, but in the end, everything worked out, and the scene was incredible.

- And what can we expect from the future, Y/N? More projects on the small screen or maybe even the big screen?

- Absolutely, Jimmy! I love acting, and I hope to continue exploring different roles and challenges. Who knows what the future holds, right?

- Hey Y/N, our research team made some interesting discoveries on your social media. It seems like you're a big K-pop fan, is that right?

- Oh yes, Jimmy! I'm completely obsessed with K-pop, it's one of my passions.

- This is amazing! Any specific groups or artists that you really admire?

- For sure! I'm a big fan of Stray Kids.

- Oh, and our team also noticed that you have a certain “bias” as they say in K-pop at Felix! You've been expressing your crush on Felix a lot on social media. Any funny stories or embarrassing moments related to this?

- Well, now that you mention that this is public I would say that all my posts about Felix are kind of funny and embarrassing, actually. I try to keep it light and humorous, but of course, my friends always tease me a little about it.

- That is great! And if Felix or any of the Stray Kids were watching right now, what would you say to them?

- Wow, that's a tough question. I guess I would say how much they mean to me as an artist and as a person. Their work really inspires me, and I really admire their talent.

- I hope Felix sees this and who knows, maybe you can meet one day!

Some time later, on a live that Felix was doing, a fan asked if he had seen this interview.

Chat: Felix, did you see Jimmy Fallon's interview with Y/N, the actor from the series "Witchbound Chronicles"?

- Oh yeah! I saw! It was amazing. I couldn't stop smiling throughout the entire interview.

Chat: Y/N mentioned that he's a big fan of Stray Kids and that he has a crush on you. What was your reaction when you watched this?

- Oh, really? This is so cool! I was very flattered to learn that he is a Stray Kids fan. I think it's an honor when talented people like our work.

Chat: Would you have a message to send to Y/N?

For sure! Y/N, if you're watching, thank you so much for your support! It's amazing to know that you enjoy our work, and who knows, maybe one day we can meet. Keep being amazing!

Chat: It would be great to see a collaboration between Stray Kids and the series' soundtrack, wouldn't it?

- Absolutely! We would love it! Who knows what the future holds for us, right? Let's hope something like this happens.

Meanwhile at your house

- Y/N did you watch Felix's last live? - Your sister came running to ask you.

- No, I saw the notification but I was busy so I couldn't watch it.

- You NEED to see this excerpt!

Your sister takes the phone to you with a cut from the live stream where Felix Yongbok Lee is simply talking about you, and of course you completely freak out!

- MY GOD! FELIX KNOWS I EXIST!

- Imagine if you could meet him in person?

You stop and reflect for a second

- What is it? - Your sister asks.

- My Twitter account simply has 1001 posts about how handsome and hot I think he is! I need to deprive that now!

- Wow, but it's great that he knows you have a crush on him!

- He already knows because of that stupid interview, I don't need to be embarrassed anymore! - You run out to get your cell phone.

A while later on a gossip page

“Recently Y/N S/N deprived his Twitter account and opened a new one saying that it would be his professional account. Does the young actor have something to hide?”

/-/

Months later, with the end of recording the first season of the series, and the end of the press conferences, you feel that it is time to return to music. You had loved that whole period of recording and promoting the series but you felt the urge to write about it all, to put it all in the form of music, and deep in your heart, you wanted to write about something, something that you thought was really silly. actually, but your mother always told you that music was made to express all your feelings.

Unseen Hearts

🎶 Unseen hearts, a world apart,

In the shadows, you're the spark.

A crush so sweet, yet out of reach,

Dreams we chase, lessons we teach. 🎶

- This song is AMAZING! - A music producer friend of your mother said when he heard it.

- Did you really think so? I think it's no big deal.

- Is beautiful! What was the inspiration?

- Ah, silly thing, you know... stupid youthful passion - You said with a bit of shame.

- Y/N, I know you've been wanting to combine acting and music for so long, Bobby can give you that opportunity. – Your mother said

- You have so much potential Y/N. - Said Bobby, the producer and owner of the record company you were now part of.

- Now, ideas for a music video?

The Unseen Hearts video was a success, number 1 in views on YouTube. The clip takes place in a magical setting, reminiscent of the world of the series that you are part of. Include enchanted forests, ancient ruins and mystical locations, having a sense of magic and mystery. The story of the music video centers on you, showing your magical journey in search of your unreachable crush. Throughout the clip you searche for a masked figure who wears a necklace with the Korean character: 리

Comments on Twitter

🌟 Just watched the "Unseen Hearts" music video by @Y/NActorOfficial and I'm absolutely enchanted! The magical symbolism and emotional depth in every scene got me hooked. Matt's talent is truly spellbinding! 🔮💖 #UnseenHearts #Y/NMagic

✨ The "Unseen Hearts" music video is a masterpiece! 🎬✨ Y/N's portrayal of an unattainable crush, wrapped in magical elements, is pure art. The visuals, the symbolism – everything is on point! 🌌🎶 #WitchboundChronicles #MagicalMusic

🌌 Theory time! What if the "Unseen Hearts" video is a metaphor for the struggles we face in expressing our feelings? The crush, shrouded in magic, symbolizes the elusive nature of emotions. Y/N's journey represents the pursuit of self-discovery. 🧐💭 #UnseenHeartsTheory

📜 Lyric interpretation theory: What if the lyrics in "Unseen Hearts" reflect Y/N's emotions towards Felix? The masked figure embodies the lyrical expression of an unspoken crush, with the ideogram pendant serving as a musical symbol of admiration. 🎤💔 #LyricConnection #UnseenHeartsEmotion

🎵 Melodic connection theory: The musical journey in "Unseen Hearts" might represent Y/N's emotional connection to Felix. The masked figure, with Felix's ideogram, is the elusive muse driving the rhythm of Y/N's heart. 🎭💖 #MusicalMuse #UnseenHeartsMelody

The Kelly Clarkson Show

- Hey guys! We're here with the talented Y/N, who recently released the amazing music video "Unseen Hearts." Y/N, first, I want to say that the music video is amazing, but everyone is wondering: what is the meaning behind it?

- Hi Kelly! First of all, thank you for the compliment. You know, "Unseen Hearts" is a magical journey, an exploration of emotions and personal challenges. I wanted to convey the idea of pursuing something that seems unattainable, but at the same time, it is an experience of self-discovery.

- Oh, this is fascinating! And many fans are curious about the character that appears in the clip. Can you tell us more about this?

- Of course, Kelly. The ideogram is an artistic representation, a kind of personal symbol. It's a way to add a layer of mystery to the story, allowing each person to find their own meaning in the song and video.

- I get it, I love this enigmatic approach! And what would you say to fans speculating about the music video?

- Well, it's amazing to see the enthusiasm of the fans and the different interpretations they are creating. The beauty of art is in its subjectivity, right? I love seeing the theories and stories that people are coming up with. It's a gift to see how music resonates in unique ways for everyone.

Live from Felix a few days later

Chat: Hi, Felix! Did you see Y/N's new video, "Unseen Hearts"? What did you think?

- Oh, sure! I watched it, and I have to say Y/N did an amazing job. The magical atmosphere, the emotional narrative, everything was very well done. I really liked.

Chat: And the music? Do you think it has some connection with you? After all, the character with your name appears in the clip!

- Well, it's interesting, right? I think art is interpretive, and each person can have their own vision. If music is an artistic expression, it's hard to say exactly what it means to Y/N. But I loved seeing how fans are creating their own theories and stories around it.

Chat: We are really curious! Do you think Y/N might have been inspired by you for the song?

- You know, Y/N is an incredible artist, and I'm just one of the many artists who can inspire him. I think the beauty of music is its ability to connect with different experiences and emotions. If Y/N found inspiration in something we experienced, it's an honor.

Chat: Hey Felix, we know Y/N mentioned he's a Stray Kids fan. Do you think he could have a crush on you?

- Oh, really? That's kind of funny to think about. I think it's always flattering to know that people admire our work, whether as artists or as people. And well, I don't really know about that. I'm grateful for the fans' support and affection, but personal relationships are something private, right? Let's focus on the music and Y/N's work, which is incredible.

Chat: We're just kidding, Felix! But seriously, what was it like for you to see your character in his video?

It was a pleasant surprise, for sure! Y/N is a talented artist, and it was cool to see that special touch in the video. I think he did a wonderful job of creating something unique and meaningful.

A few weeks later you are invited to perform at the Billboard Music Awards, it would be your first time performing Unseen Hearts in front of such a large audience, you were nervous obviously, but something made you even more nervous.

- Y/N you have no idea what I discovered! - Bobby, who was now your manager, called you excitedly.

- What was it?

- So I was organizing your participation in this year's BMAs, and you know who will be there, STRAY KIDS! They will also participate

You froze, you had followed the news, given interviews, seen Felix's live and knew that everyone already knew the obvious, you had burst out writing a song about the crush you had on a boy you saw once at a fan meeting.

- Y/N… are you there? - Bobby asked from the other side.

- I'm sorry, I just got a little distracted.

- I thought you would be more excited.

- Yes, I'm excited, of course, it's going to be really cool - You said a little disconcerted.

- Now are you ready for the big news?

- My God, is there more?

- It has! So the organization was talking to me, and they asked me if you would be willing to sit at the same table as them, you know, you speak Korean, so you can help the members who don't speak it to fit in.

- BOBBY WHAT DID YOU ANSWER?

- I confirmed your place with them of course, I thought you would love it!

- ARE YOU TELLING ME I'M GOING TO COME FACE TO FACE WITH THE GUY I WROTE A SONG ABOUT?????

- Wait, was the song really about Felix?

- My God Bobby, I thought you were my manager and paid attention to the nuances.

You wanted to pass out obviously.

Billboard Music Awards Day - Red carpet.

- Hi Matt! We are excited to see your performance today. What can we expect from this presentation?

- Hello! I'm looking forward to the night, it's going to be amazing. The performance will be full of energy, with a touch of magic and emotion. I hope everyone enjoys it!

- Good luck! Now, we've heard rumors that you and Stray Kids have a special connection. Any future collaborations on the horizon?

- Well, I'm a big fan of Stray Kids, they're so talented. Who knows what the future holds? I'm always open to surprising collaborations. - You say with a bright smile

- Hmm, intriguing! And regarding the "Unseen Hearts" video, many fans speculate about the inspiration behind it. Any subliminal messages?

- Ah, "Unseen Hearts" is an emotional journey, an exploration of personal feelings and challenges. Fan interpretations are fascinating, and I like to leave the song open to different meanings.

- What about the ideograms? We saw Felix from Stray Kids in the video. Any special meaning? - The interviewer asks with an insinuating smile

- Ideograms are like artistic elements, each one can find its own meaning. Sometimes it's just a way to add a special touch to the visual narrative. - You say, wanting to curse yourself for when you had the brilliant idea of putting one of the ideograms of Felix's name in the music video

Interview with Stray Kids

- And we're here with Stray Kids! You guys are killing it as always. We're curious to know, are there any secret collaborations you have in mind? Maybe something with our dear Y/N, who is also here today?

- Well, you know, we are always open to new musical experiences. Y/N is an amazing artist, so who knows what could happen in the future? - Felix responds.

- Interesting! And speaking of collaborations, we saw Felix's character in Y/N's "Unseen Hearts" video. Any idea what this could mean?

- It seems like Y/N wanted to add a special touch to the video. I don't know if there's a deeper meaning, but it's an honor to be included in his art in some way. - Felix says smiling

- What if we talk about the music itself? Any thoughts on "Unseen Hearts"? - The interviewer says wanting to provoke.

- Of course, we all watched the clip and were impressed. The song has a unique vibe, and Y/N's performance is engaging. It's great to see artists exploring different styles. - Bang Chan responds

- It seems like there are a lot of secrets being kept! Speaking of secrets, do you have any future projects that you haven't revealed yet?

- Well, we never reveal all our secrets, do we? You can expect more surprises in the future. - Hyunjin responds, ending the interview.

Later, after the red carpet, you have to face reality and go to your seat next to the members of Stray Kids. You're dying of embarrassment, not only because you meet artists you admire so much, but because you know what the topic of the moment is.

You greet everyone in Korean, trying to be as polite as possible, they are all incredibly kind to you.

When it's time to sit down, it's as if fate hates you, and of course your seat was next to Felix.

- I really enjoyed your series on Netflix. - Felix said trying to start a conversation.

- Serious? Didn't you find it a little too fanciful?

- It's too fanciful, but I like things like that, it's really cool.

- Thank you very much - You said blushing.

He looked incredibly handsome that night, you were trying very hard not to stare.

- I really liked Unseen Hearts too, it's a beautiful song.

- Oh thank you, but it doesn't even compare to your work, I'm still quite an amateur. - You always had this habit of diminishing yourself.

- Hey don't say that, your work is incredible. - He takes a strand of your hair and puts it back. - Your eyes are very E/C

He immediately takes his hand out of your hair and apologizes. There was a slight awkward atmosphere but the touch of his fingers in your hair were still there. “You’re not living a fanfic, focus on reality”, you forced yourself to think.

You didn't want to do it but you had to, you didn't want them to keep bothering the boy because of the damn ideogram in the clip.

- Look at the clip, and the ideogram, I'm sorry they keep disturbing you with this, I saw some of your lives and how embarrassed you were.

- Hey no, I thought it was really cool! Was it really a reference for me?

You look down, well, there was no point in lying anymore, right? At least you would leave with the knowledge that your idol would never see you as anything more

- Yes, it was, but you know we all have crushes on famous people, don't worry, it doesn't mean anything big.

- What a shame - He said looking down

What? - You were shocked.

- I wouldn't mind, you know, if it was a genuine crush.

You didn't have time to respond because Bobby came to call you to say that you needed to get ready for your presentation. You ran away with your heart racing, what did that mean, what did Felix mean?

- Ladies and gentlemen, singing Unseen Hearts Y/N S/N

On the Billboard Music Awards stage, the "Unseen Hearts" moment begins with you positioned center stage, radiating a magnetic presence. The mesmerizing melody fills the room, creating a magical atmosphere that captures everyone's attention.

The scenery is full of fantastic elements, as you immerse yourself in the performance, conveying the emotion of the music through each note. The audience, enveloped by the magic of the presentation, watches attentively.

During the performance, the camera occasionally cuts to the audience, where Felix from Stray Kids is sitting. His eyes meet at various moments, creating a visual connection that transcends the stage. You, while singing, exchange intense glances with Felix in the audience, conveying deep emotions and a unique harmony.

The exchange of glances is loaded with meaning, as if you were sharing your story not only with the audience, but also with Felix. Every facial expression reflects the intensity of the song, as your eyes meet Felix's, conveying a silent, emotional narrative.

At the end of the performance, the audience bursts into applause, recognizing the beauty and emotion of the performance. You, as you come down from the stage, exchange a final look with Felix, a moment that remains suspended in the air before being lost in the effervescence of the applause.

On twitter

🌟 The exchange of looks between Y/N and Felix during "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs was simply magical! This emotional connection transcended the stage. ✨🎶 #UnseenHeartsMagic

😍 I can't get over the intensity of the looks between Y/N and Felix during the performance! Their chemistry is palpable, and "Unseen Hearts" became even more special. 🔥💖 #BBMAs # Y/N xFelixMoment

🧙‍♂️ I'm absolutely delighted with the performance of "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs. The looks between Y/N and Felix added an extra layer of magic to the performance! 🌈🔮 #EnchantedConnection

🎭 "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs was an emotional journey! The looks between Y/N and Felix brought a unique depth to the presentation. A masterpiece of connection and magic. 🌌🎶 #MysticalPerformance

🤩 The performance of "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs was a visual and emotional spectacle! Y/N and Felix exchanging looks made everything even more captivating. 😊💫 #KPopMagicMoment

😭 I cried at the beauty of the performance of "Unseen Hearts". The intensity of the looks between Y/N and Felix is heartbreaking. A unique emotional experience. 💔🌟 #BBMAs #EmotionalJourney

🎶 The chemistry between Y/N and Felix during "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs is something that cannot be described in words. A perfect fusion of music, emotion and connection. Angry! 👏🌈 #MusicalAlchemy

🌀 "Unseen Hearts" at #BBMAs left my soul vibrating. The looks between Y/N and Felix transcended the stage, creating a unique and magical experience. 🔮✨ #MysticVibes #UnseenHeartsVibes

You couldn't believe what had just happened, you had performed Unseen Hearts in front of hundreds of people but it was as if you could only see Felix, you were completely embarrassed by it. How could you be so unprofessional to stare at the boy like that? What would they say about you? What would they say about him?

A knock on the dressing room door makes you stand up. It was the boys from Stray Kids and you quickly rushed to open it.

- Y/N, man, you just killed it on stage! It was amazing! - Bang Chan says hugging you.

You're grateful for the compliment, but a wave of self-consciousness hits you. Did they notice your distraction? Did they notice the prolonged glances in Felix's direction?

- Oh, thanks, Chan! I'm glad you liked it. - You say smiling, trying to hide it.

- Did you see the audience? Everyone was mesmerized. It looks like you worked some real magic up there! - Jeongin says.

Everyone laughs, and you join in the laughter, trying to keep your self-critical thoughts away.

- Y/N, that performance was incredible. You brought such a unique energy to the song. - Felix says with a shy smile.

- And I think our friend here needs to speak to you in private. - Changbin says leading the others to leave the room.

Okay, you thought: now he's going to say that what I did was horrible, that it could cause gossip and horrible repercussions for his career. And so you will have ruined the mere chance of having a friendship with someone you admire.

But his response was very different from what you imagined.

- Yeah… I wanted to ask… if you want to go out with me, do you know after the awards?

The initial perplexity is replaced by a mixture of relief and surprise. You expected the worst, but here Felix is, not mentioning anything about the intense stares, but rather extending an invitation to hang out.

- Wow, of course, I would love to! It would be amazing. - You smile trying to hide your surprise.

Felix seems to relax a little, like he's relieved by his answer.

- Great so! Will be cool. The awards are going to be incredible, but I think after that we can relax a little, what do you think?

- I will love it!

- Excellent! See you after the awards, then. - He says with a dazzling smile

He turns to leave the dressing room, and you stay there, processing the unexpected turn of events. What seemed like a potential uncomfortable situation turned into an invitation to hang out. Perhaps the intense looks were perceived differently by Felix.

Later that night…

"Y/N from 'Unseen Hearts' and Felix from Stray Kids spotted holding hands after the Billboard Music Awards!"

"The beginning of a new ship? Y/N and Felix, moments of romance after the awards."

"Fans are ecstatic over photos of Y/N and Felix together. Could this be the start of a new friendship or something more?"

And on Twitter…

😱 Holding hands? This is real? Y/N and Felix together? I'm freaking out! 😍🥰 # #Y/NxFelix #UnseenHeartsLove

🚢 Is a new ship being born? The internet needs to know! 😏🚀 # Y/Nlix #ShipSpeculation

🌟 The friendship between Y/N and Felix is so beautiful! We loved seeing the two together. 🤝💖 #FriendshipGoals # Y/NAndFelix

🧐 Holding hands? Are we all witnessing the beginning of something special? 🤔🌈 # Y/NAndFelix #SpeculationsRising

📸 Exclusive photos of Matt and Felix leaving the event. Are we seeing the birth of a new partnership? 🤝💫 #CelebrityNews # Y/NFelixMoments

📚 What do you think of a fanfic based on these photos? 😏💕 # Y/NlixFanfic #ShippingDreams

And so maybe Unseen Hearts weren't so unseen...

#x male reader #male reader insert #gay #fanfic #stray kids #stray kids x male reader #stray kids imagine #felix x male reader #lee felix #lee felix x male reader #kpop

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pleasantlyinsincere · 2 months

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Hi, I was wondering if you know what music John was a fan of in the late 70’s? I’m aware of him being excited about the B52’s, and I’m assuming he liked David Bowie and Elton John’s music in part because they were his friends in addition to obviously being talented. And I think I read once that Julian turned him onto Queen but tbh that may be me misremembering a fanfic lol I just wonder if there’s anything out there that describes what John’s music tastes was in those days or whether he preferred to stick with his favorite classics; early rock and roll, girl groups ect. Like what did he think about the punk scene in NY?? Or the close harmonies a la Fleetwood Mac that dominated the charts? Just things I think about haha.

Hi, thanks for the question. I know that I skipped through a book called John Lennon: 1980 playlist by Tim English before, that may be a good source for you. Here's some random info, that I remembered where to look up. I think Julian introducing John to Queen comes from the SPIN magazine interview in '75:

[Julian] likes Barry White and he likes Gilbert O’ Sullivan. He likes Queen, though I haven’t heard them yet. He turns me on to music. I call him and he says, “Have you heard Queen?” and I say “No, what is it?” I’ve heard of them. I’ve seen the guy … the one who looks like Hitler playing a piano … Sparks? I’ve seen Sparks on American TV. So I call him and say, “Have you seen Sparks? Hitler on the piano?” and he says, “No. They are alright. But have you seen Queen?” and I say “What’s Queen?” and then he tells me. His age group is hipper to music … at 11 I was aware of music, but not too much.

But then there is also an anecdote, I think by Tony Barrow, that John didn't want to sign Queen to Apple years earlier? However that may be a lie, or John just didn't remember.

Yoko gifted John a jukebox for his birthday in '78 and apparently John filled it with the old music he liked. Elliott Mintz says there was quite some Bing Crosby. And I remember John also putting some new song by Dolly Parton in there.

"Yoko gave him this old-fashioned jukebox and John stocked it with Bing Crosby records. People kind of expected him to have rock 'n' roll records in there, but it was almost totally Crosby stuff. There were 3 songs which John played over and over. I still remember them. They were Crosby with a jazz quartet from the 50's, I think. He would banter and talk in the songs and John thought that was just the end. The songs were Whispering, I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter and Dream a Little Dream of Me. Yeah, those were the songs, I can still see John listening to them." - Elliott Mintz

“The one modern song I remember him listening to was ‘The Tide Is High’ by Blondie, which he played constantly. When I hear that song, I see my father, unshaven, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, dancing to and fro in a worn-out pair of denim shorts, with me at his feet, trying my best to coordinate tiny limbs.” - Sean Lennon

One night we were playing at Max's (Kansas City) in New York City, and I was waiting for everyone to leave the club so I could go back in and pick up my gear. We were sitting in the van waiting and John Lennon and Ian Hunter from Mott the Hoople came staggering out and looked over. John Lennon saw it was me and stuck his head in the window. He was kind of drunk and stuck his face right against mine and went 'yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah' because he recognized it (Devo's song Uncontrollable Urge) as being an updating of She Loves You. That was one of my most exciting moments ever. - Mark Mothersbaugh on John coming to a DEVO gig in '77

PB: John, what is your opinion of the newer waves? Lennon: I love all this punky stuff. It's pure. I'm not, however, crazy about the people that destroy themselves. Playboy interview, 1980

I like pop records. I like Olivia Newton-John singing "Magic" and Donna Summer whatever the hell she'll be singing. I like ELO singing "All over the World". I can dissect it and criticize it with any critic in the business...But without any thought I enjoy it! That's the kind of music I like to hear. - John

John Lennon raced into Yoko Ono’s home office in the mammoth old Dakota building with a copy of Donna Summer’s new single, “The Wanderer.” “Listen!” he shouted to us as he put the 45 on the record player. “She’s doing Elvis!” I didn’t know what he was talking about at first. The arrangement felt more like rock than the singer’s usual electro-disco approach, but the opening vocal sure sounded like Donna Summer to me. Midway through the song, however, her voice shifted into the playful, hiccuping style Elvis had used on so many of his early recordings. “See! See!” John shouted, pointing at the speakers. The record was John’s way of saying hello again after five years. [...] It was just weeks before his death in December of 1980, and his playing the Summer record was an endearing greeting -- and one that was typical of John. Of the hundreds of musicians I’ve met, John was among the most down-to-earth. Corn Flakes with John Lennon (And Other Tales From a Rock ‘n’ Roll Life) by Robert Hilburn

"I'm aware of ... Madness. "Don't do that. Do this." (As on the spoken word intro to "One Step Beyond".) I think that is the most original thing actually because it's so peculiar. ... Out of all that mob I think that was one of the most original sounds. Very good drumming, very good bass and all of that." Andy Peebles interview

And things I don't have quotes for right now: I remember Bob Gruen had given John some video compilation of punk bands, that John enjoyed watching. In one of the last interviews John said Hungry Heart by Bruce Springsteen was a great song. There are the albums John asked Fred Seaman to buy on his shopping lists. Some are printed in The John Lennon Letters (Though I'm not sure that means he liked them, but at least was interested in.) Lot's of Bob Dylan talk in the diaries and parodies. Many anecdotes about reggae bands. In the Double Fantasy studio recording John references quite some songs and artists, when he tells the musicians what they are aiming for in the songs.

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anghraine · 1 year

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I doubt I'll live to see it, but I was just thinking of how interesting it would be to have an adaptation of LOTR with largely diegetic music. Not ironically, either! There's so much music in LOTR, and Middle-earth's world-building is so deeply interwoven with literal music—and it's not that I don't really enjoy a lot of the non-diegetic Middle-earth music that exists, but a version in which you really feel how deeply musical the world is for the characters would be so cool.

#remember that bit in the silm about some people hearing the echoes of the ainulindalë in the water?#imagine if we can literally hear the sea-longing as music #/and so can legolas/#and even in places/scenes where tolkien doesn't supply much musically #it'd be interesting to see what diegetic music people could come up with #like when the people of minas tirith burst into all the city's ways of singing (which we haven't really heard in the book)#but in adaptation we could hear the different genres and languages of song as pippin navigates the social hierarchies #and then hear them come together when victory is announced :')#obviously that kind of detail is better suited to a series than a film but lotr is better suited to something episodic anyway imo #but yes. i'd really like something that leaned into the in-story music without going full musical #don't think it'll ever happen but well. still fun to think about!#anghraine babbles #legendarium blogging #legendarium fanwank #my little piano: music is magic

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chip-does-stuff · 2 months

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Things I’ve noticed and/or thoroughly enjoyed seeing from watching Megamind eight times over the course of six days

Megamind has such a crush on Roxanne before he even steals Bernard��s identity

Hal gearshifts in midair while saving Roxanne during the midnight flight

Roxanne looks like she genuinely feels bad after slamming the breaks on the way to the school house

Megamind is incredibly good at hiding giant, smoke-producing blimps in midair (invisibility cloak???)

You can see projector lines in the observatory from a brain-bot

Minion and Megamind consistently switch back and forth between older sibling and younger sibling roles

There is a brainbot with lipstick and eyelashes

The way Megamind comments on Roxanne’s hair during their date gives me actual butterflies

Hans Zimmer wrote the MOST AMAZING LOVE THEME FOR ROXANNE AND MEGAMIND AND I WILL NEVER GET OVER IT

Roxanne’s absolutely dumbfounded look when Megamind compliments Metro Man’s music

You can hear so much glass shattering every time Tighten destroys a building

Crazy Train is clearly Minion’s favorite song and I respect it entirely

The way Megamind calls Roxanne’s name when he saves her from the alligator room is weirdly sweet (maybe I just have a crush on him)

Minion has a little antenna on his back that I assume lets him control the suit

Megamind immediately steps to protect Roxanne when Tighten sees past his disguise

Is the warden a father figure for Megamind??? Like obviously he’s a crap father if that’s the case but like, is he???

Roxanne runs up behind Tighten with a street sign in hand to defend Megamind while he’s crawling to the invisible car

Megamind’s hurt look when Bernard calls the dehydration gun “cheap”

When Roxanne rejects him, Megamind winces with every accusation (and I genuinely feel so bad for both of them like ow)

I love Megamind’s and Tighten’s themes, they’re both reminiscent of lullabies, which is a fun choice for the villain characters

Roxanne has a picture of the design for the diffuser gun hanging in her apartment when she’s trying to figure out Megamind’s plan

Megamind still has his custom baby seal leather boots on during the Tighten fight

Have I mentioned the music enough? Because I’m trying to figure out some of the themes by ear on the piano and the music is decently complex. It’s not insane, but it’s tougher to figure out than a lot of music.

“Lyrical Magic” is credited as an actual song in the end credits

Megamind’s face when Roxanne admits to looking back is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen and the way the camera follows his face is really well done

The use of lighting changes for ambiance or passage of time can be really subtle, but honestly just amazing

My dad thinks I will get sick of this movie pretty soon, seeing as I’ve watched it once or twice a day whenever possible, and he is seriously underestimating just how much I am in love with Megamind. My mom has given up calling me weird. I’m also using my uncle and aunt’s peacock account to watch it over and over, and if they’ve noticed how often I watch it they haven’t said anything.

Next week I try to beat my friend’s record of watching her comfort movie twenty times in one week.

#I am normal about Megamind #entirely average about him #basic if you will #calm cool and collected #megamind #roxanne ritchi #minion megamind

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gumycandyyy · 7 months

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Can you write a Winter King X (preferably Fem) ice skater!reader who often visits his kingdom because her home is very hot?

Thank you so much and have a lovely day!

୨♡ ＳｋａｔｅＷｉｔｈＭｅ？ ♡୧

Ok, I was almost done with this, but my computer decided to restart and delete all my work (tearing my face off as we speak)

Type: Drabble

Request: Yes! My ask box is open!

Romantic

No use of y/n

Gender neutral reader (I would've made them fem, like the asker wanted, but pronouns never came up)

Summary: Things were getting heated in the desert kingdom, so you decided to make a visit to a cool friend.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Knocking on the front (and over the top) door of the Winter Palace, you sigh deeply. How long had it been since you've visited your friend? The desert kingdom had gotten unbearable to stay in, especially with the never ending quarreling with the beach kingdom.

The beach kingdom rulers -whoever they were- kept saying that since the desert kingdom was next to them, it belonged to the beach kingdom. A bunch of garbage. They had to literally put up walls to keep beach kingdom residents from stealing sand.

What a bother.

You suddenly realize that the doors opened, and there was an ice servant ushering you in. You guess that you started walking in without thinking about it. Pretty soon you entered the throne room, for as soon as the doors opened, you heard a loud-

"Welcome back my dear!"

You laughed softly at the Winter King's flamboyance, rubbing the back of your neck. He slid gracefully on the ice floor to where you were, and picked you up in a tight hug. You laughed as he spun you around, then put you down.

"My, my. How long has it been since I've seen you, dear friend? Two, three months? What caused you to be away for so long?"

You sighed exasperatedly. Explaining everything that's been going on with the kingdoms.

"-Oh, and we think a war is gonna start. It sucks."

Despite your joke-y manner, Winter could tell you were genuinely upset by this. He took one of your hands, holding it in both of his. It was cold, but it made you feel warm inside.

"Well, if you ever need a refuge, my doors are always open to you, my dear.

His voice was soft and sweet, like a marshmallow. It made you feel like everything was going to be okay. His gentle smile was enough to make your face flush, and it was all you could do to not cover him in kisses. You were just friends anyway, but normal people do that with their friends, right...?

Right?

"In the meantime..."

Winter's soft grip on your hand tightened, and he started gliding around on the ice, dragging you with him. You laughed softly, resting your other arm on his shoulder for stabilization.

"Skate with me?"

You went with it, letting Winter slide gracefully on the ice, leading you with him.

The two of you giggled harmoniously as Winter twirled you. You eventually separated, still skating on the ice, only to join back together once again.

This went on for a few more minutes, and you realized an ice servant was playing the piano for some background music. You twirled in a graceful dance on the ice, until one of you ended up tripping on.. Something. Was that a marshmallow?

You giggled light heartedly as the both of you took a tumble, ending up with you knocking over Winter.

You laughed, and looked up at him, only to realize you were resting on his chest. Your face flushed, and you tried to act like this didn't bother you in the slightest.

"I like this."

Winter said sweetly, that ever-soft smile warming you to your core. You agreed with him, sitting up. Winter stood up sharply, picking you up in the process and twirling you around.

"May I.. Do something spontaneous?"

You nodded, resting your hands on Winter's shoulders. He leaned down, and kissed your cheek, his nose bumping into your face a little. It felt magical.

You blushed and smiled giddily, throwing your arms around Winter's neck in a show of affection, but ended up knocking the two of you down again.

He laughed, causing you to softly chuckle along with him. His smile was contagious.

"My darling, there's nowhere I'd rather be... Than right here, right now."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

No fanart for this one, I tried to get it out as fast as possible. Sorry!

reblog for a beginner writer?

#winter king x reader #the winter king #fionna and cake #fionna and cake x reader #winter king x female reader #winter king x male reader #fandom #selfshipping community #gumy writes #he's so silly #brainrot #x reader #oc x canon #winter king #adventure time

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bunny-lily · 1 month

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Lift a Pen and Rewrite the Ending

Fluff for our broken fluffed-out hearts Dedicated to @bunny584 because ow. I promised fluff, so I’m delivering fluff

Pairing: Satoru x piano teacher!fem!reader

CW: just some fluff, man. We all need some happy, sappy moments in our lives with our beloved dumbass boy.

You taught piano. Plain, simple, easy. At least, you thought so, before meeting an enigmatic man as your newest student. He played a little too well for a beginner, and seemed a little too familiar.

AN: I chose to post this on my side acc since this one was technically made for the exact purpose of writing JJK fics (same with the Ao3 acc (milk_bunny/chimeric-dreams for that one)). So, cheers to the first fic on this blog!

This was honestly scribbled down in a single sitting between 1-5 am. Please don’t judge any mistakes too harshly, I wanted to post it ASAP and not subject it to my endless course of corrections and re-writing.

This is also very short (lmao 6.7k words) for how my work is normally. Again, I just wanted to get it out as fast as I could ;w;

Music sheets laid scattered around you, annotated in messy scribbles in various colors, fonts, and sizes. A scratched out row of bars here, corrected or adjusted notes there, mindless rambles stuffed into the margins as you tried desperately to figure out which key to put your song into so that it matched the exact tone you were going for.

Not like you were some well renowned artist whose career rode on your sole ability to create magical orchestrations. No, you had barely any presence at all. The videos of your songs you posted on YouTube barely scratched a couple hundred viewers at most, with the occasional comment from a bot or scammer getting your hopes up, only for them to go crashing back down.

No, you weren’t some notable figure in the music industry, you were just a white-collar worker that taught piano from your tiny home part-time.

It suited you, you supposed, as bitter as you could feel at times. You were just a normie, a casual passerby who liked having your fingers spring and jump across the keys of your piano. It was one you inherited from your grandmother. She was the one that taught you how to play when you were little, while your parents were busy working and couldn’t sit and entertain you all day like she could.

She taught you some essentials, too, like how to tune the piano – ‘It’ll save you big bucks, bunny,’ she insisted – and how to detect even the slightest issue it might have. She was correct about it saving you big bucks.

As shabby as the thing looked, with peeling white paint and floral designs chipping off the sides, the cover scraped to hell and back, and the brassy pedals having long lost their glossy sheen, it was in perfect shape.

In your expert opinion, anyway. You were biased, so what? You had every right to be.

Granny had left the world a while ago, her ashes situated on the short mantel of your tiny fireplace. You lit the candles every day, rested two softly smoking incense sticks on the shallow bowl to catch their ashes, and gave her a swift good-morning before you raced out your door, inevitably arriving at work with only minutes to spare.

In the evenings, you’d teach, then ramble to her about your day, wish her a loving goodnight, and go pass the fuck out. Rinse and repeat, except weekends, where you were teaching all day.

It was tiring, working two jobs like this, especially when some of the kids you taught were insufferable, but music was your passion. At the end of the day, you viewed it as worth every minute spent doing something you loved.

You liked to think she would have been proud of you.

A light tapping sound, a knuckle rapping against the wood of your open front door, caught your attention. It was a warm day, one that was too good to spend with the doors and windows closed. Natural light flooded in, casting the figure standing at the entrance in a brilliant glow that hid their features from you.

You glanced at the clock on the wall to your left, then leapt up from the floor in front of your coffee table, hurriedly and messily stuffing your music sheets into a folder. “Oh, shoot, sorry! I didn’t see the time, I’m so sorry about that. Are you the two o’clock?”

Today was a surprisingly free day for you. You only had one appointment, with a new student, if you remembered correctly. You must have gotten so ingrained in your rapid-fire notations that you lost track of time.

While you weren’t expecting an adult, since the email sounded like it was from a teenager, it wasn’t uncommon. You had students of all varying ages, anyways. It was a nice change, too; you found that adults tended to listen better than children.

A smooth laugh greeted your ears, the sound impossibly pleasant to your ears. “It’s fine,” the man said as he stepped into your home, breaking from the prison of light holding him. His stark-white hair caught you off guard first, followed by his height, and then the round shades resting low on the bridge of his nose. “That’s me.”

Eyes as blue as the most vivid summer sky peered straight through yours and into your soul, his hues almost appearing to shine in the tranquil environment of your living room, without the help of the overhead lamp you had turned off. His lips curled into a sparkling grin, giving him this sort of youthful luminance that had your heart skipping beats.

You swallowed and looked away before his gleaming smile blinded you, striding over to your piano, using it as an excuse to busy yourself and avoid eye contact with him before he made you stop breathing just by fluttering his lashes.

“Come on in,” you responded stiffly, clearing your throat to ease off the tenseness in your muscles. Why were you getting so worked up over him? Sure, he was pretty, but you’d barely spoken two sentences to him. How had he managed to get you in such a tizzy so easily, where your tongue felt tied and your pulse raced in your wrists? “How much do you know about piano?”

“Uhh,” he set down his briefcase against the wall beside your door, slipped off his shoes, and met you next to the instrument. “I know a bit.”

“Alright,” you nodded and patted the bench, then paused to think if it would be too high for him. “Do you need me to get a different stool?”

He shook his head, sliding into the seat like it was second nature to him. “Nope, this is just fine.”

“Great,” you smiled at him and tucked your skirt under your hands as you sat down on the other end. “Let’s get started, then! Are you familiar with the different notes?”

His hands took place over the keys and he slowly pressed each one down as he labeled them. “C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C.”

“Excellent, that’s awesome! You’re already a few steps ahead of other beginners,” you nodded approvingly and retrieved the thin booklet you had laid on top of the piano. You opened it and sifted through a few of the song options, picking out something a bit more intermediate for him.

It was still simple, but definitely more advanced than nursery rhymes. You found teens and adults had a more enjoyable time learning when they didn’t feel like they were being patronized. Teens especially, fickle little creatures, those ones.

“Let’s start with this one, then,” you said as you set it against the ledge in front of him. “It’s pretty easy, I think you’ll pick it up quickly.”

The song consisted of quarter-note half steps that ignored the sharp and flat keys for now. You had placed a piece of tape over the tempo indicator, finding that it put your students under too much pressure and made them stumble in their rush to follow the pacing they thought was right when they didn’t know what tempo was to begin with.

The man took a few seconds to study the sheet, then placed his fingers on the corresponding keys and began playing.

He was a bit slow, holding some notes too long and others not long enough, but you were correct in thinking he’d get the hang of it fast. After a few runs, he was playing it decently well, and confidently, too.

“Perfect! I knew you’d get it like that,” you snapped your fingers, then picked up the booklet again, flipping the pages in search of something a little more challenging. You probably wouldn’t find it in a kiddie book like this one, so you placed it down and got up, grabbing a more advanced one from the side table nearby. “What got you wanting to learn how to play piano?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his head. “My dad always wanted me to learn as a kid. I finally caved in, if only to make him stop yapping in my ear during family dinners. I’m just twenty years late to the party.”

You burst into giggles as you returned to your place on the bench, placing the new song you had chosen out for him where the previous one had been. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. You’d be surprised how many later bloomers there are.”

He chuckled along with you. “Well, that’s a relief. Had me fearing I was the only fully grown student you’d see in your life.”

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I teach a grandfather that wants to play for his grandson at his graduation next year. It’s never too late to learn.”

When you looked up at him, you found him already peering at you with those intensely cerulean irises, his sunglasses folded neatly into the collar of his shirt. You twitched, startled by his stare. He had you locked in his gaze, captivated as he observed you and you observed him.

You noticed with wonder and fascination that his lashes were as ashy white as the tresses on his head.

He really was beautiful. Those same lashes were long and soft, brushing his high cheeks whenever he blinked. His lips were plush and pink, seemingly always curled up into a permanent smile regardless of size. Life and boyish playfulness darted in those mesmerizing oases that refused to shake their hold on you, and you wouldn’t wish them to.

They were the breath of fresh air you never knew you were deprived of, the nectar of life that was water to your parched throat, the flickering mirage that came to life before your very being.

You felt drawn to him, inexplicably. There was something so…familiar about him, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Like you’d seen him before, across the metro platform, or walking into the store you were just leaving, or someone walking the opposite direction as you on the crosswalk.

Where have I seen you before?

You blinked yourself out of the illusion, your lips parting, closing, then parting again before you finally managed to find your voice. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot your name, could…could you remind me?”

“Ah,” he shook his head, forgiving your forgetfulness. “Just call me Satoru.”

Just Satoru? Is that really okay?

It doesn’t sound like a name I’ve heard before.

“Alright,” you agreed regardless. “Satoru it is. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you murmured your own name in return, dipping your head down in a mini bow. You returned your attention to the music sheet, lightly tapping the back of his hand with your pointer finger. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You noted how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. It was hard not to see it, your index finger would likely barely reach the topmost joint of his if you pressed your palms together.

Your hands tingled at the thought. You quickly shoved it aside, focusing on being a good instructor.

Satoru continued to surprise and impress you as he mastered the songs you chose for him after trying them out a few times. Each time he made a mistake, he listened attentively as you corrected it, laying your hands over his as you adjusted the positioning of his fingers.

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine,” you snickered. “I’m a bit jealous. It’s hard for me to reach those far keys sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned cockily, flashing you a sultry glance between chords. “They can reach some things very easily.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you stuttered, whipping your head away and acting as if he hadn’t completely flustered you.

Truthfully, the session was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but when you looked up at the clock, you were shocked to see you were nearing an hour longer than expected. It didn’t feel like much time had passed at all, maybe thirty minutes at maximum. Had it really been that long?

You pushed yourself up, stretching your legs as you felt pins and needles spark up in them. “Seems I got distracted twice today. I’ve kept you for an hour longer than I intended, I’m sorry,” you laughed meekly. “Don’t worry, I won’t charge extra for that, that’s on me.”

“It’s no worry,” Satoru reassured you as he got to his feet as well, delicately closing your piano with a careful hand. “Are you sure, though? I don’t mind paying for it, I did take up your time.”

He made something warm form in your chest.

“It’s fine, I love teaching. It’s not my main job, anyway, don’t stress,” you brushed away his concern. “You’re a prodigy, y’know,” you told him as you walked him to the still open door. “It’s no wonder your dad wanted you to learn how to play. I’m sure he’s proud.”

He let out a chuckle that sounded maybe a little forced. “Yeah, hope so,” he responded as he eased his shoes back on and bent down to grab his briefcase. “You’re a great teacher.”

“Thank you,” you brushed your hair behind your ear, blushing. “Ah– when would you want to see me again? I-If you do, I mean.”

The odd firmness he had a moment ago melted away, once more replaced by that handsome smirk of his. “Same time next week? Ah, hang on, why don’t I get your number, just in case? I have a bit of an unpredictable schedule.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” you assented, taking his phone after he unlocked it and passed it to you. “You don’t like using email?”

He shook his head, watching you punch in your number into a new contact, add your name, then hand it back. “Nah, texting is easier for me. I’ll message you later tonight, yeah?”

“Alright,” you acquiesced.

“Oh, right, how much do I owe you?”

You blinked a few times before recalling that it was technically a paid session, though it didn’t feel like that to you. You murmured out the cost, and he gave you an odd look for a brief second. He pulled out his wallet, counted out a few bills, and folded them in half neatly before passing them off to you.

“Thanks for the lesson,” he grinned and waved goodbye, promising to text you later as he headed down your walkway, turned the corner, and vanished from sight.

You closed the door with a quiet poompf, staring blankly at your piano as you tried to remember how to function again. You glanced down at the bundle of money in your hand when you thought it felt a little too thick, brow furrowing as you unfolded it and counted them and holy shit that’s way too fucking much–

You rushed out of your house, down the pathway to the sidewalk, and looked for him, though you knew it was futile. He was already gone.

You tried to think of how you were going to slip the excess money back into his pocket next time you saw him, but as soon as you were inside, you raced to the folder you left on your coffee table, practically ripping it apart as you pulled out all the papers, aggressively uncapped a pen, and got to writing at light speed.

That man, whoever he was, infected you with a painful shot of inspiration that you needed to get off your chest right then and there. Your hand flew across the pages, revising entire sections you had been stuck on for weeks in the blink of an eye. Messy verses were refined, the missing notes floated into place, and by the time the moon had risen high and the timid breeze had turned cold, you had finished your song.

You looked it over one last time, a disbelieving giggle escaping you. You finished it. You finished it. This damned piece had been giving you restless nights, a broken loop in your brain that kept skipping over the unwritten parts, but one session with Satoru had seemingly given you the one push you were missing all along.

Your phone buzzed.

You opened it and tapped on the messages icon to find a text from an unknown number.

Unknown, 9:17 PM

Hey! Sorry for texting so late. It’s Satoru.

Does next week still work for you, same time?

What divine timing on his end. Right as he entered your thoughts, he slid into your DMs.

Your fingers practically trembled with giddy excitement as you texted back instantly to confirm the time, uncaring of what kind of impression that was making on him. You were elated, feeling like you could deflate in peace at last. You gave a little victory cheer as you went about closing and locking all the windows and doors, pulling the curtains shut with so much energy, you questioned if you’d be able to sleep.

The answer was yes. After you had gotten all ready, having pampered yourself as a small reward for yourself, you fell onto your bed and passed out mere minutes later. For once, everything seemed to be going right.

––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•––––

“How’d you learn how to play?” He asked one day as he sipped at the tea you prepared for him. He was right about his schedule being hectic at times, but he somehow managed to fit himself into having lessons with you a few times a week, rather than just the standard one.

It surprised you, but pleasantly so. He was eager to learn and improve, and you were more than happy to teach him. He made for fantastic company, too, and you found you enjoyed spending time chatting lazily with him just as much as you did instructing him.

“My grandma taught me,” you told him with a smile. “She passed away a while ago, but I like to think I’m keeping her legacy alive like this, by teaching others, and keeping that old lil’ piano alive.”

Satoru nodded in understanding. “You’re amazing at playing,” he complimented sweetly. “She did a great job.”

“Thank you,” you answered bashfully, hiding your blush behind your own mug of tea.

“What was she like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His smile felt like the sun kissing the apples of your cheeks on a perfect spring day. Him wanting to know more about you had your heartbeat picking up in speed, chirping a new, happy melody like a canary.

You deliberated before replying. “She was a very shrewd woman, stern in her teaching, but very gentle at the same time. She was the kind of granny that snuck me pieces of candy when my parents weren’t looking. She let me stay up late playing the piano whenever I was staying at her place. I probably bugged my parents to let me stay there every weekend, just so I could play it and learn from her.”

“So you got into music young?”

You bobbed your head. “I fell in love the first time I heard her playing when I was a toddler. I had woken up from a nap one day, somehow escaped my crib, and crawled to the living room to watch her play for…man, I don’t even know how long. I was just…hypnotized.”

“She sounds like she was a maestro,” he snickered airily, though you knew he meant it.

You grinned widely, resting your chin on the curved cup of your palm. “She really was. I can show you some videos of her playing sometime, if you’d like to see,” you offered.

“I’d love to.”

––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•––––

Satoru had been your student for a while now.

He zoomed through the intermediate pieces into the advanced-amateur category easily, though seemed to plateau around there. Despite this, he was a wonderful student, always trying to improve himself and his skill. You knew he had it in him, he was only missing a little something he needed to tip him to the next level.

At one point, you had joked that he must have been purposefully holding himself back just so he could keep studying under you.

He laughed, and said nothing more.

By now, he reached a point where he would come in with a pep in his step, claiming he had perfected a song he wanted to play for you before you started the session. You’d find yourself (politely) seated on your couch by him, and would watch with a fond expression you didn’t know was there as he treated your piano with a touch more tender than even your own.

And you’d listen. He’d choose some of the prettiest, albeit not complicated, arrangements to play for you, and you’d find yourself slipping into a state of blissful peace. All your thoughts would drift away, and you’d absorb yourself in the music he played.

A few sessions had been spent just like that, with him as your personal musician, and you couldn’t figure out why you felt so…happy.

You liked the emotion a lot, though, and found yourself looking forward to his every visit, anticipating the full body chills you’d get whenever he lulled you into that state of delighted serenity. You didn’t remember when you stopped charging him, and when you let him come in without knocking anymore.

You also didn’t remember when having tea after each session became tradition, but you were grateful for the joy he brought you with his presence alone.

In fact, you decided to get him a small gift as thanks. For what exactly? His company? Patience? Entertainment? Whatever it was didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything big, either. It was a record you stumbled across while visiting a thrift shop recently.

You picked it up for two reasons. First, he divulged he had a hobby of collecting old records. Second, he mentioned he had been searching for that specific record for a few years with no luck, saying it was the last one he needed to complete his collection from that particular brand. The moment you spotted it, you grabbed it and practically bolted to the cashier, uncaring of the price.

There was no way you were leaving it there for someone else to nab it before he could. It was the most reasonable option.

Which was why you were extra giddy to see him again.

You opened the door in the middle of him reaching for the handle, stunning him for a second. That bewilderment was quickly wiped away by an excited grin that surely matched your own.

“If I knew you’d be this enthusiastic to see me, I would have worn something better,” he quipped.

You snorted and waved your hand, stepping back so he could come in. “Am I not allowed to be happy to see my favorite student? You look good no matter what you’re wearing, anyway.”

“Favorite, eh?” He teased as he closed the door behind him, leaning down to give you a quick hug. “Now I really feel like I should have worn something fancy.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” you giggled, leading him to the piano.

“I dunno,” he hummed, a sly expression crossing his face. “Pretty big deal to hear that from my favorite teacher,” You rolled your eyes, smacking his chest weakly, to which he laughed openly. “Ready to get started, teach?”

What a gorgeous sound.

“Actually,” you said, “I got something for you. Wait here a moment, lemme go grab it.”

He raised a brow but didn’t raise any objections as he sat down and tugged his tie to loosen it a few inches, saying that he’d be right there.

You had to resist the urge to skip to your room to locate the record and retrieve it from the drawer you had safely stored it in. It was your sock drawer, actually. You wanted to keep it somewhere protected while it tarried for its new owner. You sang the melody of your newest song quietly as you picked it up, inspecting the album cover for any indication that it had been touched since you last put it in there.

Pristine. Obviously aged, but in flawless condition otherwise.

Sounds from your living room brought pause to your actions right as you closed the drawer after dumping all your socks back into it.

…Was that music?

Frowning, you picked up the record and crept towards the source of the noise. You recognized it instantly – it was the most notable piece written by the notorious Gojo Saichi. It was considered the most difficult composition created within the last century or so. You’d listened to it on repeat occasionally, attempted it dozens of times, though you always fell short before the second movement started, which came early on.

Was Satoru watching a video? No, the melody was too clear and full to sound like it was coming out of a phone speaker.

Then…

You froze in the entrance to the hallway, stuck in place as you watched Satoru play the oeuvre flawlessly. From where you were standing, at an angle, you could see his precise actions and motions. Every note came to him as naturally as air, each shift in tempo as easy as blinking, down to the fragile, silk-like contrast that made the instrument sound as if it was a weeping widow, sitting on a window sill as she descanted to the moon, alone.

His digits knew exactly where to go, when, how deeply to press, how to shift between fierce and floaty as if he was born to do exactly this.

As your eyes flickered from his hands to his face, you saw that his eyes were closed. He was doing what some musicians could only dream of ever achieving in their careers; he was uniting with the music, playing as one, letting it fill his heart, then pour out with every throb like the very blood in his veins.

The most complicated, difficult, astronomical concerto known to man in the modern age, and he was playing it like it was nothing.

Satoru must have sensed your burning gaping as his hues flickered open and his hands stilled over the keys. He looked over towards you, his mien morphing into something resembling embarrassment.

You staggered closer. “That…that’s…that piece was…written by Gojo Saichi…” You mumbled, barely able to get the words out. You set down the record onto the coffee table, already having forgotten about it.

You were flabbergasted, rattled as you came to a stop at the side of the piano. He…how could he have played that so well? Wasn’t he barely in the advanced category? That was…that was professional, grade A, genius level music he played.

“Yeah,” he grinned, and you would have believed his show of being sheepish if the gleam in his eyes didn’t give him away. “He’s my dad.”

You sluggishly dropped onto your spot on the bench, peering at the keys but seeing nothing as you unpacked the bombardment of information you witnessed.

“That’s…the– that’s the hardest piece…even I can’t…”

“I know,” he rubbed his nape. “He basically forced me to stay up day and night playing it until I got it right.”

“But…how?” You tilted your head, peering up at him from the corner of your eye.

Satoru shrugged like he hadn’t just dropped a fucking bombshell on you. “I asked him to teach me when I was a teen,” You heard him say. “I’m sorry for deceiving you,” he apologized, not sounding very sorry at all.

“I…” You labored to find the right words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly?” He asked. You nodded, and he let out a heavy sigh.

Instead of answering immediately, he stood up and pulled you to your feet as well, pulling you into the kitchen, where he filled your kettle with water and put it to heat up.

You desperately wanted to know what exactly was going on, but couldn’t find it in yourself to rush him. He went about methodically picking out both your mugs from your cupboard, tossing a bag of tea into both, grabbing the bowl of sugar on the counter, and setting it all down on the table while he waited for the kettle to whistle. He seemed lost in thought, while you had many and none at all at the same time.

You could only observe him as he picked his words carefully.

He finally began when the shrill noise of boiling water filled the room. “I don’t know if you remember – probably not, since you didn’t recognize me – but we actually did meet a while ago. I was a lot different back then,” he said as he poured the water into both mugs, afterwards placing it back on the stove and holding his hand sideways at roughly chest level. “Maybe this high, scrawny, kind of a douchebag,” he admitted with a chuckle.

You were still in shock over the whole situation. All you could do was silently urge him to continue by leaning closer, accepting the cup when he passed it to you. Heat spread through your fingertips, easing away the frosty feeling you didn’t notice set in.

“You were playing the piano in the music room at the school we went to together. It was…honestly, beautiful. I grew up with a famous pianist for a dad, but even he can’t make music sound as alluring and gentle as you can,” he continued, awkwardly holding his own mug. “So, when I saw you again a few months ago, I couldn’t believe it was you. I always wanted to ask you to play something for me when we were younger, but could never get the nerve to.”

As he spoke, the memories were beginning to filter in through the thick haze in your brain.

You were so focused on writing music and learning to be a great musician like your grandmother that you never really paid attention to your surroundings or the people around you if they weren’t your granny, parents, direct friends, or music teacher.

From what you did remember, Satoru was always a confident, cocky boy, shameless and loud. To hear he was…shy about asking you to play for him was hard to believe.

“So, I finally let my dad start teaching me,” he rambled on when you didn’t respond. “I’ve tried so many times to replicate the song you played, but I could never get it right. I know it’s probably a long shot, but you don’t happen to remember what song that was, do you?”

You thought back, scraping the dust off your highschool recollections. There was one piece you had hyperfocused on perfecting during the last year there, determined to play it exactly as your grandmother had.

You never did manage to master it.

You set down the tea you had only sipped at twice and walked past him into the living room, heading to your piano in a sort of trance. You slid onto the bench, and set your fingers on the keys. Muscle memory took over, the gentle tune coming to life in…how long had it been since you last played this?

You let the music flow through you, gave it access to your heart, allowed it to peer into the deepest parts of your soul, and simply followed the path it created.

“Was it this one?” You asked quietly.

When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide, lips parted as he stared at you with nothing less than amazement. “That– that’s the one. Which– what’s it called?”

“It’s a piece my grandma wrote for my parent’s wedding,” you answered. “She didn’t tell me what it’s called. I’m not sure if it has a name to begin with. She played it for me once, and I,” you huffed out a short, choked chuckle, “I became obsessed. I spent every day as a senior trying to get it right, to play it like she did, but…”

Your fingers slowed into a stop as you looked at them blankly, recalling your attempts, and the disappointment that followed each failure. You memorized it after playing it just twice, but it didn’t help you reach your goal in the end.

You startled when his hand rested lightly atop of yours, his body partially leaned over your shoulder so he could look you directly in the eye. This close, you felt his light breaths as they brushed your cheek. You could see the exact shade and hue of the teal composing his striking irises, match the exact pace of his heartbeat to a song, hear him swallow nervously.

“Keep playing,” he pleaded, sounding almost desperate. “Please.”

You obliged. How could you say no to him when he looked at you like that? When he requested it so feebly in a trembling voice that was close to cracking? How could you say no when you saw and felt first hand how his body relaxed when you filled the room with the lilting melody once again?

The music hopped and glided, playful in some parts, somber and tranquil in others. He stayed right where he was, the heat of his stomach resting against your upper back, thawing the tension in your shoulders as his hands held them gently, thumbs rubbing circles into your tight trapezius.

In every way, the song reminded you of your grandma, of your parents, of your childhood spent trying to reach a point where you were truly happy with how you played each note.

But, if that was the case…

How come you saw Satoru’s eyes when you closed yours and listened to your own hands dance across the keys?

Why did his smile, his laugh, his touch, his voice, his everything, come to mind when you picked apart every stanza and bar? If you put together all the notes a specific way and decoded them, you swore they’d spell his name.

Your hands drifted and halted as you reached the end of the song.

Or, rather, the end of the song as you knew it.

There was a brief pause, then he mumbled, barely above a hum, “is that it?”

“Grandma never showed me how it ended,” you told him morosely. “She said she’d tell me ‘when the time is right’, but…she died before she could.”

He sat beside you and took your right hand into his. His fingers massaged meaningless shapes into the creases of your palm and the smooth plane of the dorsum. Neither of you dared break the silence, mulling in your own worlds.

Satoru was the one to cautiously cross the line of quiet, doing his best to not disturb it. He wrapped his left arm around your back, pulling you into his side while continuing to toy with your dainty digits.

“We’ll find it together,” he whispered.

––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•––––

Truth be told, you never imagined you’d find yourself in this kind of place before – especially not in this position.

Your hand hovered over your brow, shading your eyes from the brilliant sun as it shined low in the sky, kissing the horizon. Though it was setting, the approaching night was warm as ever. A pleasant breeze ruffled the fabric of your dress and caught the strands of your hair that managed to slip loose from the style your mother put them in.

Stars were already beginning to dot the expanse above, glittering and so, so crystalline when you were this far outside the city. You never thought you’d get to see them so clearly, enough to point out individual constellations, and even identify Jupiter and Venus.

You never had a reason to leave the bounds of the city before, so all this was a distant dream you might have had once when you were a teenager.

But here you were, outside a lovely villa, surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones, miles away from where light pollution would dare to touch. The buzzing, lively chatter of dozens of guests filled the air; the clinks of glasses, the clacks of forks and knives on plates, all of it was so animated. You felt like you were in a sort of daze, overwhelmed with happiness to the point that it almost didn’t feel real.

A pair of soft lips pressed against your temple, drawing your attention to radiant, minty-ocean hues.

Satoru gazed at you with nothing short of pure, raw, true adoration. Like every fiber in his body, each and every singular cell, was dedicated to loving you.

“I have one more present left for you,” he murmured against your lips, giving you a chaste kiss right after before he stood up and raised his glass. He tapped the back of his knife gently on the side, creating a chiming noise that settled the ongoing conversations with ease.

Once all the attention was on him, he set both objects down and began speaking.

“I know we’ve already said it a lot, but I wanted to thank you all again for coming here to celebrate this day with us,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “This is truly the happiest day of my life – so far,” he added cheekily, earning him a laugh from the crowd. “So, before all the festivities end tonight, I wanted to do one last thing, if you’d all be so kind as to grant me this moment.”

Of course they would. Satoru was just that type of person. Charisma poured off him in waterfalls, charming anyone he spoke to without effort – you included.

He pushed back his chair, moving to leave. Confused, you grasped his arm and called his name.

There was a glint of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t identify, not with the light tingle of wine sitting in the back of your mind and the overstimulation of the grand day.

“Just listen, baby,” he whispered to you, then he was weaving through the guests, snaking his way to the grand piano situated off to the side of where everyone was situated. “This is a little song I heard many, many years ago, and fell in love with from the first few notes. I’d like to dedicate it to my mother-in-law, father-in-law, their late mother, and I would like to especially dedicate it to my lovely wife.”

Your mother gasped, grabbing your arm as soon as Satoru began playing the familiar melody of the song you had been taught ages in the past. It was the one your grandmother played for you, just once. It was the one she played for your mother and father for their wedding. It was the one you played for Satoru, once unknowingly, and every time after that intentionally.

The one he was playing for you now.

Your mother teared up faster than you did, reaching for a clean napkin to dab her eyes with while she waved her free hand at her face, trying to stave off the tears so that they didn’t smear her mascara, though she wasn’t succeeding. Your father was gently shushing her, rubbing her shoulder while he looked between you and Satoru with pride, and you…

You recalled the first time you heard him play the composition his father had written, when you still believed he was just an advanced player. Back then, you felt entranced.

Now, you felt completely spellbound.

You lifted yourself, carefully making your way between the enchanted spectators. A couple clutched and squeezed your hand as you passed, and a few others breathed out little congratulations to you, not risking breaking the delicate atmosphere.

By the time you made it to him, your vision was blurry, and he was playing the last line of bars.

The arrangement floated into the placid, halcyon evening, each individual note rising like a star to join the thousands that looked on with bated breath, protecting this little moment of clement apotheosis.

His hands swept across the final few steps, barely touching the keys at all. The concluding tone resounded, fragile and silk-like, followed by a second of calm silence before the crowd erupted with cheers, hoots, and deafening applause.

Satoru rose from the bench, encircling your waist with his arms and pulling you in for a deep kiss. It echoed in you, the sweetest lullaby, the happiest composition that could never be written down identically. It was one only the two of you could hear and feel, one only the two of you could dance, live, cry, laugh, breathe, and love to.

Of all the endings you ever tried to give that precious song your grandmother had written so long ago, the one Satoru created was perfect.

Because you created it together.

––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•–––– Banner made by cafekitsune ♥ gotta figure out how to make my own

#jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #fem reader #I'm going light on the tags fn #is this considered light lmao #fluff #jjk fluff

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yourlocaltreesimp · 4 months

Text

Once upon a dream

The 1st place raffle prize for @violetregrets1837

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The blackness that swallowed your limbs gave way to a soft light. Your body was suspended in time, floating atop its waters.Your eyes opened and that soft light opened to a world. You were floating atop water, it lapped at your limbs as you floated. The current guided you to the nearest edge, and you sat upon the lip of the pool. It looked much similar to a blossoming flower, lush pink petals folding out from the bubbling water in the centre. Little balls of light danced in the air, each a different colour. You could hear them laughing among themselves, little wings fluttering about. The whole scene was nothing short of enchanting, soft piano and violin accompanying your amazement. The water began to bubble, and before you could fully skitter back, there was a woman. Her hair was long and fell in loose curls, her face was decorated with ornate makeup and gems, her clothes here finer than any human tailor could make. But perhaps most captivating of all -aside from the fact she was giant and just emerged from the water- were the wings that sprouted out from in front of her pointed ears.

“I see you are awake little one” Her voice was soft and warm, your nerves were put to rest “Your soul was embroidered with quite a bit of dark magic, but worry not, I fixed it” You stood slowly, unsure of what to do. She held out a large hand, asking for you to step on. You do so carefully, and she smiles kindly. “You are far from home little one” You sit down on the palm of her hand, and she brings you to eye level “I will allow you refuge if you can offer us anything” Your nerves set back in, all you could really do was sing, and your parents had already spent enough time explaining why it would never get you anywhere.

“I’m sorry ma’am, i’m afraid all I can do is sing” She laughs, it’s light and airy, her eyes lighting.

“That is just perfect my dear. Us faeries love music” She set you back down gently as a small light grew from your chest and enveloped your form. “Worry not, little one, I'm simply ensuring your safety while you stay with us. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of our enchantments”

And so bagan your new reality, sworn protection by the fae in return for your singing. The little fairies took some time to trust you, but soon you always had one on your shoulder or another asleep in your hair. You were safe here, free to roam the heart of the forest. You learned what to forage, what plants made good food and what flowers made for good tea. It was on one such trip foraging that you heard footsteps. He waded through the tall grasses and wove through the trees. You watched from the branches as he made his way through the forest, directly towards its heart. You’ll admit that something about him struck you, his careful steps avoiding the ruin of the forest, the hopeful gleam in his eyes as he wandered, you were captivated. But no person comes out this far, no people seek the help of great fairies anymore, not unless it’s to steal and bottle the young fairies. Your path back to the Great fairy and her fountain was quite simple now you had it memorised, but it would’ve been challenging for anyone who was unfamiliar. As soon as you stood on the lip of the fountain she appeared, examining your worried expression.

“What troubles you, my dear” She cupped both of her hands and let you crawl in.

“There’s a boy in the forest- he’s coming here” Your voice shook, and for the first time you’d been awake in this unfamiliar land, you felt scared. She smiled that knowing grin and pressed you to her cheek.

“He has no ill intent little one, there is no need for your worry.” She sets you back down and leans on the edge of the fountain with her forearms, most of her submerged in the water. “Now, how about a song? Those always calm you down, do they not?” Her suggestion was gentle, redirecting your worry towards something else. You hummed, trying to warm up your voice as you thought of a song. One sprang to mind, looking around at the magic that surrounded you.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream” You made sure to feel the slow sway and swell of the music as you remembered it. “I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam” The fairy in front of you smiled and closed her eyes as she enjoyed your singing more than you parents ever did. “And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do” The smaller fairies gathered to listen, some settling on your shoulders. “You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream” You finished there and the great fairy opened her eyes. She smiled, her eyes searching your face before glancing behind you.

“My, that was certainly a wonderful performance. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her eyes looked expectantly at the boy behind you, the same from before. He stared at you as if he were enchanted by your voice, large eyes staring at you in awe. When he noticed you staring back, his eyes widened.

“Beautiful” He managed to stammer out.

“Thank you” You smiled, knowing that the great fairy was right, he was harmless.

Hyrule was nothing short of bewitched. Your voice held no magic and yet it wrapped around his mind for the days to follow. Your face, lit with the soft glow of the fairies resting on your shoulders was finer than that of any statue or painting. He thought he was lying when his sisters back home told him that he would find someone who would complete him, filling in the cracks of his soul. And yet standing there, hearing you sing, seeing your smile, that’s the most complete he’s ever been in his whole life. The magic in his blood yearned for your voice, for your touch, for you. The great fairy before him raised him much like a son, and judging by the knowing smile on her face, she knew.

#linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #linked universe x reader #link x you #x reader #lu hyrulexreader #lu hyrule #fir’s library

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putting-it-into-parc · 1 month

Text

in the practice room

masterlist

Charles x reader (4.8k words)

summary: charles is a man that contains multitudes. you help him see that through the music.

warnings: mention of deaths of parents, slight music lingo (not necessary to the plot), fluff

in the practice room

In a bustling but quiet coffee shop, you bend over a pile of papers filled with messy notes, rests, and slurs. On the B section of the piece, you scratch out a run of eighth notes you had just penciled in, frowning slightly at the score. Something’s just not right.

You decide this calls for some noodling around on the piano to figure it out, so you tuck your sheets safely into a manila folder and the folder into your canvas tote, sling the bag over your shoulder, and scoop up your iced americano with one hand while fumbling for your wallet containing your bus card in your pocket with the other. You turn around and—

Disaster. As your hand makes contact with the stranger who seemingly came out of nowhere, your cup goes flying out of your hand, coffee soaking your pants, your socks, your shoes. You yelp as you feel cold liquid on your ankles—thank god you went with iced today instead of a latte. The straps of your heavy tote slide down your shoulder, catching painfully in the crook of your elbow, bumping indignantly into the perpetrator as it swings. His mouth is shaped in a tiny, surprised O. You’re fairly sure yours is, too. Students glance up from their laptops; a group of older women pause their conversation, peering curiously at the two of you.

“Oh, my god,” the stranger says. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter automatically, crouching to pick up the sad remnants of your americano. As you rise, you notice that the coffee has stained his perfectly white pants. You gasp. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” he asks, then follows your gaze down. “Oh.”

“Shit. Your pants are ruined.” You crane your neck, searching desperately for a potential source of napkins.

“So are yours,” he points out rather unhelpfully.

Magically, a barista hurries over right then with a stack of paper towels. “Thank you so much,” you tell him hastily as you hand one to the stranger and start dabbing at your own clothes, dragging some of them around the floor with a shoe. Your tote—along with its precious cargo of textbooks and your score—seems thankfully unharmed, and you set it gingerly down in a chair while you clean.

The stranger bends down and starts helping you mop up the rest of the floor. You see a pair of aviators nestled in his brown curls. And as the initial shock of the collision subsides, you take in the thick eyelashes, a perfectly sloped nose, a Cupid’s bow that looked like a little upside-down W. You wonder if he has a girlfriend, and think to yourself that if you guys weren’t drenched in coffee, you might even have dared to ask.

He finishes wiping away the puddle, and stands up, finally meeting your eyes for the first time. He has the kind of eyes that are every color under the sun; a ring of blue fading into green, a sunburst of brown around his pupils. “I am so stupid,” he says in heavily accented English. “Your clothes are ruined—let me replace them.”

Replace them? You blush at the thought of him replacing your clothes. Then you blush harder when you realize he doesn’t mean it like that at all.

“No, no,” you wave the offer away. “It’s coffee, I can try it in the wash.” Although in your experience, light wash jeans and a cream hoodie usually did not play well with bean juice. And of course it had soaked the seam between your legs, making for a maximally embarrassing look. “And your pants are ruined too…”

The cute stranger sighs. “Guess so. And I’d just gotten here. I hope you weren’t on your way to somewhere important.”

You shake your head. “I was just headed to the uni’s music rooms. A friend dropped me off here but I can take the bus to the school.”

He raises an eyebrow at music rooms. “You’re still going?”

“I mean, I should probably try to get home first,” you say, realizing that you’re a little out of options.

“I drove here,” the stranger informs you. He pauses. “Let me take you to your apartment, or least get you somewhat close. If you’re okay with it, of course.”

You consider this. You give him a once-over; his arms are crossed, and he looks a little nervous, tapping a white sneaker on the ground. You figure he’s probably not the first serial killer of Monaco you’ve ever heard of. “Okay,” you shrug. “I appreciate it.”

He smiles, his playful lips curling up at the corners. “Not a problem. My car’s out in front.”

He opens the door for you on your way out of the coffee shop. You hear whispers from several tables as you pass by.

A lot houses rows of parked cars on the side of the plaza. On the far edge is one of those extremely fancy sports cars, most of which you know nothing about. Even in Monaco, a place with no shortage of nice cars, it stands out—and not just because whoever parked it did a truly horrendous job of it.

The stranger strides down the lot, and you point out the fancy car. “Whoa. Look at that.”

“Cool car,” he says casually. He stops at the far side of the lot.

You chuckle. “I hope you parked before this guy came in.” You grab the passenger side handle of the white sedan next to it—

“Wait!” the stranger cries. Alarmed, you release the door. He reaches into his pocket, produces a keychain with an electronic fob and a little horse dangling from it. And the ridiculous sports car next to it chirps awake.

“Oh my god.”

He looks sheepish. “Sorry, I’m kind of a terrible parker.”

Your cheeks are on fire. “I didn’t mean to roast you,” you mutter.

But he smiles and opens the door for you. You climb in, afraid to touch anything. Or breathe, for that matter.

He joins you in the car. “I should tell you my name,” he says. Extends a hand. “Charles.”

You accept the handshake, feeling a tiny frission of something bloom in your chest, and tell him your name too.

“Well,” Charles says. “To where do I have the pleasure of driving you this morning?”

You laugh. Charles is so cheesy. And very, very cute. “My apartment is…” you finish with the address.

He punches it into the GPS and starts up the car. Classical music begins playing.

“Grieg,” you muse as the strains of his piano concerto float through the speakers. “Good taste.”

Charles gives you a sidelong glance. “You play piano?”

“Just a little,” you admit. “I’m not any good, but we have to know some basics for music composition.”

“So you’re a student?”

“Grad school. Third year.”

“Wow,” Charles says. “That’s pretty impressive.”

You chuckle then, because to you it’s definitely not. “Well? What do you do?”

It’s telling of how intently you’ve been staring at him that you notice a tiny muscle in his neck tense at your question.

“Hmm, well. I also play, although I’m no good, mostly trying to learn. But if you’re asking about my job, I work…for a car company.”

Ah. That explains a lot. “Just a guess…” you say in a bit of a teasing tone, looking at the little black horse on the wheel. “Ferrari?”

“Bingo,” Charles says.

“What do you do for them?”

“I, uh…” he looks uncomfortable now. “I drive for some of their specialized lines, I guess.”

“So you’re a test driver!” You didn’t even know that was a full-time job. It’s pretty sick.

Charles chuckles. “I guess, of a sort.”

“And you say grad school is cool,” you snort as he pulls up in front of your apartment. Rubenstein is just starting the cadenza of the first movement.

“It is,” Charles says, his insistent tone catching you by surprise. “Being able to just learn, immerse yourself in something that deeply…I’m pretty jealous, if I’m being honest.”

You look at him questioningly.

“Ferrari has me traveling quite a bit,” he clarifies. “Not exactly the most conducive life to go back to school. And I love playing piano, but I can only really do it back home.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little bad for Charles.

He shrugs. “Are you still going to the practice rooms? Because I am totally happy to wait for you to change and then drive you there.”

“I can’t have you be my taxi,” you laugh. “Seriously, thank you for bringing me home. You really saved me from a small dilemma.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You feel slightly deflated at the thought of never seeing Charles again. Monaco was small, right? Maybe you’d run into him…someday. Maybe.

“Alright then,” he agrees. He gives you a long look, as if he’s taking you in. “I’m sorry again for the coffee. I’ll…see you around.”

“Goodbye, Charles.” You shut the door of his gorgeous Ferrari and walk up the stairs of your apartment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watch him drive away as you open the front door.

A week later, Charles couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have done something, anything to see her again. He kicked himself for not asking her if she wanted to hang out again, not even for her number. He supposed he knew where she lived now, but that was somehow more unhelpful than knowing nothing at all. Charles felt a void open inside his chest, and unable to stand that nagging feeling for another second, grabbed his car keys and a book and and drove to the coffee shop. He didn’t dare let himself hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d be there.

After surreptitiously glancing around to make sure no fans would notice him instantly, Charles pushed his sunglasses onto his head. He surveyed the tables more closely, and then his eyes landed on a sight that filled his head with what felt like helium.

She was sitting in a corner, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, tucking her hair behind her ear as she scribbled busily on a sheet of lined paper. A half-eaten scone sat on a little dish. No sign of a coffee.

“Sorry,” he said to the barista, whom he’d just asked for a latte. “I’ll add one iced americano to my order.”

You’re deep in concentration when a looming presence takes over your periphery, and you jump in your seat. It’s Charles. Wearing a disarming smile, a red sweater, and extending a hand holding an iced americano.

Okay, so maybe you picked this coffee shop to work at on purpose. Nobody needed to know that you never worked at the same coffee shop twice in a row, that you were so prone to distraction that you constantly tried to switch up the scenery.

I guess it paid off.

“Charles,” you say, fighting to keep a smile off your face.

“Hi.” He looks shy. “Don’t want to bother you but thought I’d say hi.”

“No, not at all,” you say quickly. Even if Charles sat clear across the shop from you, all hope of concentration was gone. “Want to sit down?”

He accepts your invitation, carefully sliding down the bench across from you. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, and you take a greedy sip of the coffee Charles mercifully brought you.

“I brought a book,” he says proudly, holding up a well-loved copy of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow. He looks a little bit like a child displaying his beloved finger-painting project, and you resist the urge to ruffle his hair. “So I don’t distract you.”

Oh, Charles. If only he knew.

“Too late,” you let yourself say with a small smile. You cannot make eye contact with him right now. “But as luck would have it, I’m finishing up.”

Charles leans over, peering at the rows of staffs penciled in with rolling arpeggios, thick chords in the bass, repeatedly written and re-written tempo changes. “That,” he breathes, “is so cool. Literally mind-blowing.”

You blush furiously. “At least it looks that way. I’m pretty much wrapping up. Need to try a few things on the keyboard.”

“You’re going to the practice room again?” Charles asks.

“Yeah,” you respond. Then you remember something. “Actually, if you want to come—of course you don’t have to—but if you wanted to play piano there are plenty of them there.”

Stupid. Judging by his Ferrari, he probably has a much nicer piano at home. Some of those baby grands at the uni were real crusty…

But his eyes are bright, and he eagerly nods. “Really? Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Sure.”

Charles beams. “I can drive us there.”

The subsequent ride to the music building is scored by Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 2, along with Charles’ laughter.

Charles followed her down the silent hall, lined by soundproof rooms each housing a piano in various states of decay. She stopped in front of a room with a shiny black baby grand. “Here,” she whispered. “This is one of the better ones.” She took a tiny key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

He found it rather distracting that they were in a small, enclosed, soundproof room together. Alone. He forced himself to send his imagination into oblivion.

“I’m going to figure out this section of my piece,” she told him. “But I kind of want to hear you play, not gonna lie…” She had a teasing smile on her face.

Charles swallowed. “I told you, I’m terrible.”

“I won’t push you,” she said, more gently this time. “But I do mean it when I say I want to hear you play.”

“Wait,” he said bravely. “I am working on something. Just promise me to be nice.”

She held up a pinky. “Promise.”

Charles took a deep breath. This might have been the first time he’d ever actually played for anyone. Hands shaking, he muddled his way through a simple Chopin waltz he’d been working on. When he finished, he looked up to see her grinning ear to ear.

“See,” he muttered. “Told you I’m bad.”

She answered by sweeping him into a hug. She smelled like the orange blossoms that lined the streets in Monaco.

“Promise me,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by Charles’ shoulder. “Promise me you’ll never say that again.”

You can hardly believe it, but that was only the first time you and Charles went to the practice rooms together. Your friend has stopped giving you rides, because every Monday, Charles’ Ferrari waits patiently at your apartment, and you chatter all the way to a coffee shop of the week. Charles reads a book as you work on your manuscripts, study for your written exams, and when you’ve both had enough, you drive to the practice rooms. In the car, he plays a different classical work every time. It’s usually piano, but not always.

Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1. He tells you the song reminds him of the way his stomach flutters before the lights go out at the start of the race, the thrill of rounding a sharp turn. It’s how you find out his real job at Ferrari is being a driver for Formula One.

Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor. You gush over the lush, grandiose chords, describing how you never liked the song much until you heard Yuja Wang tear it to shreds. You confess that it’s so intense, so majestic, that you’ll blast it through your headphones at the gym of all places.

Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 90, No. 3. He asks you if you’ve seen that sci-fi movie, Gattcca. It sounds vaguely familiar. He launches into a description of Uma Thurman telling Ethan Hawke, “that piece can only be played with twelve fingers.” You laugh and tell him the song takes place almost entirely on the black keys, so Uma’s character must not be totally wrong. He says you two need to watch the movie together sometime. Your stomach flutters at the thought of a movie night with Charles.

Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Pas de deux. You tell him that you danced ballet for almost ten years as a child, but you could never take your eyes off the piano in the corner of the studio. Your last dance ever was as the Sugar Plum Fairy, and as soon as you took your bow, you rushed over to peer into the pit orchestra. Charles catches you by surprise, tells you that while his dad was still alive, he used to drag his entire family to see the ballet every Christmas. You feel a pang in your chest, place your hand over his.

He’s always shocked when you identify the song, most of them within a few notes. You laugh, tease him that he plays cliché music. You don’t tell him that you let yourself imagine each song is like a flower that he brings to your doorstep, even though neither of you have said anything about what you are, what these weekly excursions to the practice rooms mean.

Barber’s Adagio for Strings. You complain that Charles is being a total downer, then promptly confess that this is the only thing you want played at your funeral. Charles teases you for already having the soundtrack to your funeral in mind…and asks if the same is true for your wedding. You roll your eyes, blushing, smack his arm playfully…and tell him it’s the 18th variation of Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Fireworks, you say. This song makes me see fireworks. It’s, like, the epitome of love.

The next day, a small bouquet of lilies on top of an aging manila folder is waiting at your door. You open the folder gingerly and gasp. Penned on the top of the vintage score in Russian, in what may well be Rachmaninoff’s own hand, is Rapsodiya na temu Paganini. A small cream card falls out, emblazoned with a now-familiar black horse.

Thanks for showing me the fireworks, too, it says.

“Wait,” Charles said one day, interrupting the plaintive strains of the Adagio of the Spartacus Suite. “Let me queue up a different song.”

He tapped around until he found the playlist he wanted. From the very first note, her face flashed with recognition.

“Liebestraum,” she said. “And by the sounds of it, Arthur Rubenstein.”

Charles never ceased to be amazed by her ears. It was borderline freakish.

“This came up once, totally randomly, while I was on a drive,” he told her. “I feel like there are so many songs in classical music that are…so emotional. Majestic. But most of the time, it’s me that’s doing the feeling. This song…I can almost feel how the composer—and the player—must have felt bringing it into existence.”

She looked deep in thought. Only noticing Charles’ eyes on her seemed to break her reverie. “It’s a good song,” she replied evenly.

Charles felt slightly crestfallen. It wasn’t like her to not provide a whole commentary on a classical piece. He’d expected her to wax poetic about the dynamic contrast, the pacing, the dissonant cadenza.

“Definitely.” He tried to hide his disappointment.

It was a bad day for Charles’ fingers, as he liked to say. Frustrated, he decided to take a walk around the studio as a refresher. He wondered if she was working on her score. Then he realized that he’d never actually heard her play before. Suddenly overcome with curiosity, he crept as silently as he could down the hall until he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

She was sitting in front of a piano, but there were no stacks of messy papers on the bench or the stand, no pencil tucked behind her ear. Her eyes were closed; she looked utterly peaceful, belying the sounds of the flying arpeggios, the chords crashing like waves on the Monégasque beach, that she coaxed effortlessly out of the old instrument.

Charles felt a choking sensation grow in his chest, his throat, as the Liebestraum modulated from its playful B major, then C, E, and finally the soaring climax of its home key. She touched the final note, the simplest of simple A flats, letting it linger until the walls of the practice room sucked it away far too soon.

A tear splashed onto one of the keys. She wiped it away with the sleeve of her hoodie. Her face, no longer peaceful, looked haunted. Charles felt like a little piece of his heart had chipped off.

He tried to turn around and sneak back to his room, but she looked up, and they locked eyes. She froze.

Charles tapped softly on the door. She nodded. He opened the door, sat next to her on the piano bench.

“Charles—” she began.

“You’re incredible.” He shook his head, still in disbelief.

She hung her head. Her shoulders drooped. “I’m not.”

“You only ever talk about composition. Why didn’t you ever tell me you perform?”

Her lips flattened into a line. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

He gaped. “Why not?” This girl could put actual professionals to shame.

“It’s a long story.” she said curtly. But Charles saw her eyes fill with tears.

He put an arm around her shoulder, and felt her lean in. “Want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

She swiped across her eyes with her sleeve. “You played that song in the car,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“The truth is that when I started school, I wasn’t just studying composition,” she continued slowly. “I was actually majoring in piano performance.”

“As you should,” Charles blurted impulsively.

She gave him a watery smile. “My mom, she was pretty against the whole music thing. But my dad loved piano. He was really good himself, but I guess my grandparents were like my mom, so he just had a normal job. And most of all…” her voice quivered, “he loved the Liebestraum. So much. I listened to it constantly growing up…hearing my dad play it was probably why I started playing in the first place.”

Charles’ heart gave a painful squeeze. He dreaded where this was going.

She gave a heavy sigh. “My first year, my dad got a heart attack. At Christmas dinner. He was gone…just like that.”

“Oh, no,” Charles whispered.

“I went back to school the next semester, but I couldn’t play anymore the way I used to. So I quit. I switched my concentration to theory and composition. Honestly, I never even practice anymore, even for fun…but then you played that song in the car…”

Charles felt like an asshole. Of course he had no idea what that song meant to her. But how fucked up was it that he’d thought he was bringing her a flower…and what she saw was a knife? “I’m sorry,” he said morosely.

“It’s okay.”

“For what it’s worth,” Charles said softly, “the way you played…if heaven is really a thing…you dad got to hear exactly how much you love him today.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she leaned in, and Charles smelled orange blossoms, felt her lips delicately brush his cheek.

“Thank you, Charles.”

One day, Charles tells you that he won’t be able to see you next weekend—the race weekend is in Singapore, and the drivers are heading there almost a week early for the time change. He looks almost as cut up about it as you feel.

“So I was thinking,” he says hesitantly, “maybe we could hang out more after the practice room. Only if you want.”

“Sure,” you say, trying not to betray your excitement. Or nervousness. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Well,” Charles says, running a hand through his soft, tousled brown hair. “We could get dinner. And then I wanted to show you something out on the water.”

You laugh, because of course Charles owns a boat, and tell him so. His cheeks bloom with two patches of pink, but he looks pleased nonetheless.

Dinner is delicious, not that you could pay any attention to the plates of tortellini smothered in creamy white béchamel, the perfectly crispy, charred pizza with sprigs of arugula and prosciutto, not when Charles peeks adorably at you over the top of his wine glass, lifts his slice of pizza to toast yours, fails to correct the waiter when she calls you a “beautiful couple”. Especially not when his fingers find yours as you walk out of the restaurant, and they intertwine and stay that way as he drives you along the asphalt ribbon of the Monégasque shoreline, to the harbor where his yacht is docked.

The dying sunset stains the sky a brilliant shade of orange, fading into darkness by the time he drives the boat deeper offshore. Stars dot the sky like a smattering of freckles. The coast is brightly lit, and you point out the crowds that seem to be gathering near the harbor.

“As luck would have it,” Charles says, “a couple days in the summer, there’s a festival on the Port.”

“Is that why we’re out at sea instead of, I don’t know, enjoying the actual festival?” you tease, earning yourself a gentle poke in the ribs.

“Just wait.”

You hear the faint sound of music coming from the shore, some upbeat pop thing. Charles is fiddling with some buttons on the dashboard of the yacht. Suddenly, the those familiar inverted chords in D flat major that never fail to make you feel like you’re melting, signaling the beginning of Rhapsody, sound through the speakers on the sides of the boat. Your heart pounds. Charles wraps an arm around your waist, and takes you onto the deck as the music swells, the cellos and basses joining the violins. He points up at the sky.

And the fireworks begin.

Bursts of red, green, purple. Blazing trails of gold, like comets, exploding in a shower of glitter that crackles on the way down. You look at Charles, seeing the dazzling sparkles reflected in his eyes, and they are filled with so much longing that your own heart aches.

“They’re gorgeous,” you tell those eyes, not entirely sure you’re talking about the fireworks anymore.

“Good,” Charles says hoarsely. He tilts your jaw up with two gentle fingers. Hardly an inch away from your own, his lips move as he says in the barest of whispers, “Because now you see what I’ve been seeing…every Monday for a long, long time.”

Your lips quiver, but Charles leans in, and stills them with his own. Even though your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, you see fireworks.

one year later

Applause fills the air as you hit the last thundering chord of Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor with a flourish. You stand, the stage lights making you feel giddy—or maybe it’s the exhilaration of finishing your senior concert—and you take your bow. The chiffon hem of your dress skims the ground as you walk off stage and are swarmed with friends and family and proud professors, but your eyes roam the crowd for just one person.

And there he is. An armful of lilies demands one of his arms, so he sweeps you close with the other. He brushes your lips with a kiss.

“Congratulations,” Charles whispers.

“Thanks,” you beam, a little teary-eyed.

“Grieg, huh?” he says. “No wonder you didn’t want to show me the program in advance.”

“It was meant to be poetic,” you laugh, and he kisses you again.

And it was. One day you sat down and counted every song you and Charles had played in his Ferrari on the way to the practice room before the night of the fireworks. Sixteen. Like the number emblazoned on his car, on the hoodies you regularly stole from his closet, on the posters you brought to his race weekends. Sixteen songs, and that concerto just happened to be the one that started it all.

notes: if you couldn’t tell….i played a lot of piano growing up. fic inspired by this post

random easter eggs:

hehe i am so stupid reference

gatacca (highly recommend)

til there is an actual fireworks show in monaco

and of course, charles actually playing the piano :’))))))) he truly contains multitudes i love him so much

#f1 #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #charles leclerc #charles x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader

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