#harpist

Megumi x harpist!fem!reader

English is not my first language so lmk if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes. thank you!

cw: 720

Megumi listens you play the harp for the first time!

You and Megumi had been together for a couple of months now, of course you have talked about your interest, all of them. But you haven’t told him about your passion for the harp. Not because there was something wrong with it, it's just that it was a quite personal and quite close to your heart for just anyone to know about it.

The afternoon sun slants through the half open curtains of your apartment’s living room, painting your skin like a canvas, giving the golden glow of the sunset to your face. Dust motes drift lazily in the golden light, catching on the polished wood and the taut strings of the harp like tiny, suspended secrets. You were sitting on the low stool— barefoot; your hands already curved and resting on the strings of your one meter and sixty harp. 

You were playing a new piece you have been working on lately: Vogel im Käfig: Quiet challenging, but it was worth the sleepless nights and calloused fingers. You’ve been perfecting it the last couple of days, so now you were getting better. You hesitate one last breath—then your fingers find the familiar opening: the soft, shimmering glissando that begins Vogel im Käfig. The piece you’ve only ever played in secret, the one that starts like a fragile dream of freedom and ends in aching resignation. The very first notes spill out—delicate, almost hesitant, like light filtering through colored glass. 

Your posture shifts unconsciously: your tense shoulder now are relaxing, your back gently arched, like if you were hugging the harp. Your graceful hands are moving with liquid precision, your eyes are now closed, now fully emerged with the melody, seeing stars behind your lids with every pluck you make, all of them perfectly tuned and melodic. The world narrows to the vibration under your fingertips, the subtle give of each wire, the way the soundboard breathes back at you. Your breathing syncs with the phrasing: shallow and even in the tender opening section, deeper and more controlled as the harmony darkens, the chords thickening into something heavier, more desperate.

You were so focused on the piece you were playing that you didn’t hear the door slide open and the paused, precise footsteps of your boyfriend.

Megumi stands in the door frame. He’s still in his uniform jacket, the top button undone like always lately when it’s just the two of you. One hand stays in his pocket; the other hovers uncertainly on the doorframe like he’s debating whether he’s allowed to interrupt, so he just stays there, watching you and your graceful hands.

Your focus is absolute—no glance his way, no self-consciousness. Just you and the piece, pouring every quiet longing you’ve ever buried into the strings. The hopeful lilt of the first half gives way to the storm: your fingers accelerate, still graceful, still controlled, but now carrying weight—plucking with fierce clarity, letting the dissonant builds ring out raw. Yet even in the intensity, your movements remain poised, almost serene, a quiet strength that makes the contrast.

When the final, fading lament drifts into silence. You let your palms flat against the strings and finally, you tuck a proud smirk tom yourself: you nailed it. You exhale slowly, like surfacing from underwater.

You now open your eyes, and the first thing you see is Megumi’s relaxed features and his beautiful dark blue eyes seeing through your soul and you look away. You freeze for half a second and then your lips curve into a forced, casual smile, without really meeting his gaze. 

“Megumi—”

He now pushes off the wall, steps forward slowly, stepfoots  soft on the tatami.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up,” he murmurs, voice rough from disuse or exhaustion. “You were… gone.”

You feel heat rise in your cheeks. Exposed again, but different this time—not just the music, but the fact that he saw you so completely unguarded, wrapped up in something you’ve always kept private.

“I didn’t hear you come back.” Your voice is quieter than you intend. “How long—?”

“Long enough.” He stops a meter away, close enough that you can see the small cut above his eyebrow, the way his jacket smells faintly of smoke and outdoors. His eyes flick to the harp, then back to your face. “The whole thing. It was… beautiful.”

Hello, this is my very first time writing here in Tumblr. I hope you guys liked it! please help me liking if you liked this.