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#get me an electric guitar pls

royalapocalypse · 1 year

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god knew i would be too powerful if i got my hands on an electric guitar right fucking now.

#electric guitar #get me an electric guitar pls #i will kms #i cannot stop the urge #they look so pretty and cool #music #when is it my turn to be happy?

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flwrstqr · 20 days

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— SOMEONE'S JEALOUS...

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ after jay and you had an arguement before the concert, he gets jealous after seeing you sing to a guy. ヾ

pairing - guitaristjay x singer fem!reader ୨୧ wc - 200+ ₊˚⊹ genre jealousy, oneshot ୨ warnings - not proofread, jealousy, argument in the beginning, the song that they sing is into you by paramore⠀✩｡:*･.nini side note i saw a clip on an acting vid about this so i thought why not write it for jay cus its so jay coded!??!?!| LIBRARY FOR MORE...

ᝰ feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated and encouraged! PLS REBLOG

"YOU NEVER UNDERSTAND, JAY!" you exclaimed as the two of you argued.

Jay scoffed, "We've been over this 50 times, YN."

"She's just a 'pick-me' who's obsessed with you! Are you choosing her over me?" you murmured, tears threatening to spill.

"YN-" his voice was cut off by the staff instructing them to go onstage.

"God, Jay, you always ruin everything," you muttered, brushing past him swiftly to prepare your earpiece and mic. As the concert began, you maintained a good image, hiding your anger.

Jay strummed his electric guitar in time with the music, stealing glances at you. His mind was filled with guilt over the argument.

"After all this time," you sang. Jay looked up to see you approaching a male fan, exchanging flirtatious looks before continuing the song, singing to him.

"I'm still into you," you winked at the fan, Jay's frustration simmering. He watched as you continued to engage with the fan, singing directly to them. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. With each change in tempo, Jay's strumming grew louder.

You flinched as the guitar's volume increased, Jay purposefully overshadowing your vocals. Determined, you sang louder, meeting Jay's smirk with a gaze.

"And baby, even on our worst nights," you sang, locking eyes with Jay, "I'm into you. Let them wonder how we got this far, 'cause I don't really need to wonder at all."

As Jay slightly lowered his volume, you turned away from the fan, making your way towards him. Singing directly to him, you eyed his guitar before meeting his gaze.

"After all this time, I'm still into you," you sang, sharing a moment of eye contact before turning away to continue the performance.

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vacayisland · 5 months

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Could you do a John Dory x Retired Singer/Musician Reader? Pls and thank you

(I loved meet the wifie I fucking cackled at "imma beat his ass!")

@!; Oldies are always better. John Dory / Retired! Reader

"Tag List"! @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq @apieceofcathair3 @kitthefanfickat

ꨄ︎. You were a big alt-indie musician, making music that tended to have a little bit of everything; the funk and beat of the funk tribe and the techno tribe, the guitar riffs and drum solos from the rock tribe, some classical instruments as undertones, and pop-like lyrics and beats. All the while you also put your own spin on it. Music had always been an outlet for you, always allowed you to take what was in your head and thread it into sound for everyone to hear. Sometimes it was chaotic, sometimes it was mellow, and it always depended on your mood when writing, composing, and singing. It's usually was drew people to your music. It was down to Earth, yet also complex and simple at the same time. Those who wanted to dive into the meaning of your music and dissect it would find multiple layers, many undertones that all harmonized. Those who just wanted to vibe out to your music could do that as well.

ꨄ︎. When you had left your career behind, it wasn't because of anything bad. You left with one final song in which explained that you were stepping down to let the new generation to find their own flow, to let other people take the stage, to be able to sit back and enjoy everything that will come in the future. You were only around 24 when you put down your guitar for the final time for the public; But you never gave up music for good on your own. While you never published anything anymore, you kept writing and composing for yourself as it was truly your passion.

ꨄ︎. This is when JD found you, playing in a friend's cafe. You had caught his attention right away, so much so he didn't hear the waiter when he had asked for JD's order. He was honestly so captivated by you for a moment he wondered if you were some sort of siren. He soon realized, yeah no you weren't, you just were really, really good. And he needed your number, badly. And that sounded a little creepy, but when you see someone who's not only good looking but knows how to sing and play an instrument all in one? You don't miss that chance to talk them up, and JD was defiantly not missing his chance!

ꨄ︎. JD didn't see a ring on your finger, it was fair game for him. Luckily you hadn't been seeing anyone at the time, but you still gave him a reality check after he approached you as though he was the coolest guy on the planet; Introducing himself before using some sort of cheesy pick up line to get your number. "Hey, babe, my name is John Dory and you seem rather lonely. You know, I can fill that 'me' shaped hole in your heart if you give me your number!" And then he winked!? Your friend was flabbergasted. You thought he was really brave.

ꨄ︎. And you hate to admit that his stupid pick-up line (which didn't even seem like a pick-up line!) actually worked and he got your number. (And he would be so smug and proud about this fact for the rest of his life.)

ꨄ︎. You two talked for a few months before making anything official, and then you waited about a year or two before you two even thought about moving in together. Even so, by 6 months of dating you basically lived in Rhonda; Your stuff littered his home, you had your own set of clothes there, your own toothbrush, and even your own house slippers. Then when you moved in, it felt natural. It felt like this was where you were always meant to end up and somehow the planets aligned. And for some reason JD never noticed the fact you brought in an electric guitar, which also sat in your shared closet. Sometimes you wonder if he's just stupid or a little blind, because he's also seen your play.

ꨄ︎. Either way, one day when he was hoisting his brothers over (after the whole Floyd situation got resolved, and god you were kind of glad you were staying with friends during all of that; not because you didn't like his brothers but because you didn't think you could handle meeting his family during that whole situation.) when they heard you playing your guitar in the bedroom. You weren't doing anything fancy, mostly tuning the guitar and making sure the strings didn't need to be replaced. But, of course, that always had to include one of your most iconic guitar riffs from a song about fighting your crushing mentality during the lowest part of your career. "Holy shit dude, I didn't know your lover listened to (Y/N)!" Branch would be the first to comment, being the most diverse music listener in the family. Floyd, who had been distracted by the riff, perked up at the conversation and nodded in agreement. JD only gave them a confused look, leaning against his kitchen counter, "Dude, my lover is (Y/N)?" And JD wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't all four of his brothers stopping and staring at him completely baffled. Mostly Floyd and Branch, who soon yelled a rather loud, "WHAT?!" "What?!" Which only confused JD more.

ꨄ︎. You hadn't met JD's family before this point, but you've heard all about them; Not only from JD, when he told you about his band days, and when you heard them around the trailer when they would come over. Usually you stayed in the bedroom, not to be rude yet to just let JD have his time with his brothers. Yet, you couldn't understand what all the yelling was about, "Yo, Que te pasa? Why the hell are you guys yelling?" You would ask, poking your head out of the door to the bedroom. Your expression tired, your hair messier, yet you could care less at this moment; You were sure JD's brothers wouldn't mind, they would see you worse later on since you were planning to stay with that big doofus. "Oh my god-" You flinched when Floyd dropped the cup he was holding, his jaw dropping upon seeing you; And honestly, for a second, you forgot you used to be a big artist. "John Dory," You started, startled by the reactions his brothers were giving, "Vas a decirme lo que esta pasando ahora mismo."

ꨄ︎. JD is always a little intimidated when you speak Spanish, mostly because his Grandma used to scold him and his brothers in Spanish. So he only explained (rather quickly) how his brothers had heard you tuning your guitar in the bedroom and how they just got weird. And that's when Branch defended himself, along with Floyd, how JD never told them that you were his lover! "And what's it to you that I love your brother?" You shot back quick and snappy, crossing your arms as you shot a glare their way. You weren't above throwing hands with JD's brothers. Floyd noticed the way JD glanced away, sipping his coffee. He was quick to stand up, placing a hand on Branch's shoulder to calm him, before explaining the whole situation to you better; Saying how Branch and Floyd were just big fans of your music and they didn't realize that you were with JD, because no matter how much JD spoke about you he never told them that you were his lover.

ꨄ︎. "Oh, Mierda lo siento." God, this made things a little awkward, "I thought you were about to be one of those horrible step-siblings that didn't like his brother's lover for some dumb reason like my hair." "What? No!-" "No, yeah, I see that now. My bad, really sorry." You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, "JD can be really, really dense sometimes, shut it John Dory!," You pointed a finger at JD before he could make a peep in protest about your slight insult, but it was made out of full love. "Let's start over, hi I'm (Y/n) and it's really nice to meet you."

ꨄ︎. Safe to say, JD forgot to tell his brothers that he was dating an old sensational artist...and kind of forgot you were one and was very shocked to realize this! Furthermore, you were a little flabbergasted when he revealed that some of BroZone's songs were influenced by your music. You would stare at JD after he confessed such a large secret, "Wow... that's a big insult." You mumbled sarcastically under your breath. "EXCUSE ME?!" But you guessed JD missed the sarcasm. "I'm being sarcastic, love. That's kind of sweet." Playfully rolling your eyes, you pressed a kiss into JD's cheek before turning back to his brothers. You crossed your legs, rested your elbow against your knee, and held your face in your hands. "Now about you four, how about we get to actually know each other. I'm planning to remain in this family after all..."

ꨄ︎. Safe to say that JD is wifing/husbanding/etc. you up really quick.

ꨄ︎. He still brags about how he first got your number and how he managed to 'snatch you up' before anyone else could. You told him he's too old to use new lingo and to stop, lovingly of course as you didn't want your 'husband' to embarrass himself. He melted hearing you call him husband before getting a bigger ego boost; And you had fun watching him terrorize his siblings while his ego was so inflated. You even jokingly did the whole 'I'm watching you' eyes to one of his brothers (Clay) as a silent threat that this is how you were always going to hand JD off to them like. He gave you the biggest (playful) stink eye ever. Yeah, you're going to fit right into this family.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

#john dory headcanons #john dory x reader #trolls x reader #brozone x reader #trolls band together #john dory trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls fandom #trolls dreamworks #brozone #trolls 3 #john dory #floyd trolls #clay trolls #branch trolls #branch #trolls floyd

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eiightysixbaby · 1 year

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magic man

‘you don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high a while’

word count: 3.8k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut smut smut!!! minors DNI. swearing, mention of drinking and drug usage (weed), oral (f receiving), slight edging, unprotected p in v, creampie, reader and eddie get high and reader drinks a little but everything is consensual - none of that shady shit, spanking, slight degradation/name calling, reader has a shitty ex (brief mention of manipulative tendencies), reader gets hit on by a creepy perv, eddie makes you watch yourself while he fucks you, overall filth (if I forgot anything pls let me know!)

summary: after moving to a new town to get away from a shitty ex-boyfriend and leave your past behind, you find yourself having even more guy troubles. it’s best to just give up on men entirely - right?

Your empty glass clinks against the top of the bar as you set it down, motioning to the bartender to bring you another drink. You exhale deeply through your nose, grounding yourself, holding back the frustrated tears. You really thought moving out of the city and into a small town, into Hawkins, would be good for you. Thought it would let you escape the shitty men of your past and start fresh. But here you were, sitting on a sticky barstool where your date was supposed to be resting beside you, instead completely alone. This was your third date with this guy, things had been going so well - or so you thought. He decided not to show, and clearly must’ve, y’know, forgotten to tell you. Ha. You sneered to yourself, fuck this.

Electric guitar and drums blared from the tiny stage crammed at the back wall of the even tinier bar. Some local band played, gathering a crowd of about fifteen intoxicated people who whooped and hollered as they played. You take a long sip of your second drink before turning your attention onto the band fully. Their music was loud, a little sloppy, but honestly they had potential. You hop down from the stool you sat on and stand at the back of the crowd, drink in hand. You bob along lightly to the heavy sounds coming from the stage, letting yourself get immersed in the passion and anger the music radiated. You catch the singer’s eye as he performs and you’re enamored for a moment, the liquor rushing to your brain as you get lost in the man’s deep brown eyes. He all but stares you down as the song lyrics tumble from his mouth. Brown curly hair falls in his face, and his ringed fingers work at his guitar. Ripped black skinny jeans hug his legs, chains dangling from the pockets, and on his torso he wears a dark grey Dio shirt, holes cut into the neckline. You chew on your lip as you gaze up at him, watch him as he gets almost intimate with the microphone. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you suddenly feel warm. Blame it on the alcohol, yeah, sure. The song comes to a close and the unnamed singer speaks into the microphone.

“Thank you all so much for listening tonight, we love to see people enjoying our music! We are Corroded Coffin, and we’ve got one last song for you guys,” his eyes are drawn to you as he talks, and you feel unsteady on your feet.

The final song starts, the drummer tapping his sticks together to count the band in, and you rip your gaze from the beautiful man seducing the audience. You remember the reason you’re at this bar in the first place, and a sour taste fills your mouth. No more guys. Not right now. You don’t think you could handle another round of getting your hopes up, just to be inevitably let down by yet another man with too much audacity. You turn on your heels and return to the seat you’d been at before, trying your best to drown out the remainder of Corroded Coffin’s set.

Maybe 20 minutes go by before you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn, and once again meet the same dark brown eyes that held you before. The singer from the band stands inches away from you, a kind smile on his face.

“This seat taken?” he asks, sticking his thumb out towards the stool next to you.

You shake your head, and he sits.

“I’m Eddie,” he extends his hand for you to shake. “I uh- I saw you watching the set from the crowd. What’d ya think?” his voice is kind, almost shy.

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself before continuing, “listen Eddie, your set was great and you’re very talented, but I really better be going..” you shift in your seat.

His eyes haven’t left you this whole time and you feel like you’re suffocating. You can’t handle another disappointment, it’s best to cut this one off before it even starts.

“Woah, hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry,” he grabs your arm gently to stop your movement, the metal of his rings cold on your skin.

“Please don’t touch me,” you jerk yourself out of his grip, grabbing your purse to leave.

You shuffle out of your seat, leaving cash for the bartender and turning around quickly to exit the bar. As you turn though, a larger man bumps into you, spilling his drink down the front of your shirt.

“Shit, baby, didn’t see you there…” he purrs at you, his breath reeks of whiskey.

He puts his hands on your waist in an effort to pull you closer to him. You attempt to shove him away and see Eddie rise from his seat out of your peripheral vision.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you spit, but the man is simply too big and too strong for you to break out of his grip completely.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he laughs.

“She said get the fuck off,” Eddie’s voice is firm, loud. Completely different than the tone he had just used with you.

Eddie grabs the man from behind and shoves him, yelling at him to keep his hands to himself. You don’t stay to see what happens next, fleeing out the front door and collapsing against the outside wall of the building. The fresh air fills your lungs, a stark contrast from the sweaty, musty air of the bar. Your chest heaves, the now sticky fabric of your shirt clinging to your skin. Your face is hot and flushed with anger, and your eyes are shut tight as you hear the door to the bar open beside you.

“Hey, Y/N, fuck… are you okay?” You hear Eddie’s voice.

When you don’t respond, Eddie comes to lean on the wall beside you. He sparks a cigarette, offering it to you when he sees your breathing has slowed. Hesitantly, you reach for it, taking a long drag.

“Thank you. For doing that for me,” you say finally, turning to look at the boy next to you as you pass the cigarette back to him.

“Shit, you don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Christ knows what that fucker would’ve done if given the chance,” Eddie scoffs, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet.

“Yeah,” you laugh, a bitter and cold sound. “I thought tonight couldn’t get any worse… and then it did,” you shake your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks plainly, blowing smoke out of his mouth as he speaks.

“I was supposed to have a date tonight… son of a bitch didn’t show, didn’t even call,” you scoff. “Not to mention I moved here to escape my asshole of an ex-..” you cut yourself off, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, you don’t wanna hear all of this.”

“You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable telling me, sweetheart. I’ve got all night.” He meets your stare and the look in his eyes is genuine, soft.

“I don’t really wanna get into it all- I just need a distraction,” you say finally.

“Wanna come back to my place? Get high for a while?” Eddie asks you, and he catches the hesitance in your face. “I promise I’m not like, a psycho killer or anything like that,” he raises his hands in mock defense.

“I don’t know, Eddie, I-,” you start, chewing on your lip as you talk.

You’re hesitant to agree, not sure what you’re getting into. Not sure if you’re ready to fall for someone again. Not sure if you like the way your heart pounds when he looks at you.

“Relax, we don’t have to fall in love or anything, sweetheart. I just think we could get to know each other better,” he says as if reading your mind.

And, fuck, there’s something so electric about him. He’s drawing you to him and he’s not even trying. Something in you is telling you to just go home, get in bed with some ice cream and forget about guys for the next century - and the other part of you is urging you to go with him, screaming ‘Go, you dumbass, he’s hot!’

“Yeah, okay, sure. I walked here so, can I hitch a ride with you?” You hear yourself ask him, mind racing as you do it.

“Of course, sweetheart. No way I’d let you walk. Let’s go,” and he’s stomping out his cigarette, urging you to follow him.

The ride to the trailer park is short, and you don’t do much talking on the way there. Eddie opens the door of his van for you, and you hop out into the warm July air. The night seems to buzz with anticipation.

“Welcome to my palace,” he extends his arm theatrically, opening the trailer door for you. “I live here with my uncle but, uh, he works nights.” Eddie explains, as you look around at all the knick knacks littering the trailer walls. “Oh shit, hey, let’s get you out of that shirt, yeah?” He motions to the stain on your shirt from the spilled drink.

You nod, and he jogs down the hall to what you presume to be his bedroom, returning with a clean shirt for you.

“Bathroom’s down the hall on the right,” he smiles.

You change into the clothing he gave you - a black Def Leppard ‘88 Tour t-shirt - and meet him back in the living room. His eyes widen when he sees you and he clears his throat awkwardly. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Shit- sorry, you uh, you look nice. In that.” His voice comes out almost squeaky, strained.

“No falling in love, remember?” You tease, sitting down on the couch beside him where he’s already rolling a joint for you to share.

The two of you pass the joint back and forth, talking about anything and everything. You relax more and more the longer you talk. Eddie tells you more about his band, you tell him about your life in the city before moving here. You end up telling him more about your ex-boyfriend, the manipulation and lies, all of the heartache he put you through. Eddie listens to the whole thing, resting a gentle hand on your knee, easing your nerves. Eddie tells you about his ex, too, a girl named Chrissy. Says they dated for a few months before they realized it just wasn’t gonna work for them, they wanted different things. You pretend not to notice the way he’s shifted closer to you slowly over the course of the last hour. He pretends not to notice the way you get caught up and stare at his lips while he talks.

The two of you fall silent eventually, simply enjoying each others company. Eddie’s hand rests on your thigh, his shoulder touching yours with how close he is to you. Your mind feels like it’s coated in honey, everything around you feels so sweet as you sink further into your high. Eddie’s watching you, his chocolate brown eyes never leaving your pretty face. He allows himself to rub soft circles into the fabric of your jeans where his hand rests, and you shiver at the touch.

“You okay, sweet thing?” He asks.

“Mhmmm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Eddie’s presence is comforting. You feel safe around him, secure. It doesn’t feel the way it did to be around other guys, like you’re simply waiting for them to destroy the nice vibe you have going. No, being around Eddie feels different. And you’re letting yourself sink into it.

You brave a glance up at him, and he’s staring down the bridge of his nose at you. “You’re really pretty,” you say, giggling.

“Hey, now, sweetheart. I thought we said no falling in love,” Eddie retorts, but his smile completely shatters his mock-serious tone.

You laugh, and he revels in it. He cups your chin in his hand, and lifts your head up so you’re eye-level with him. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, and you lick your lips as a nervous habit. His gaze gets darker as your tongue pokes out of your mouth, his fingers still gently holding your chin. He smells like smoke and vanilla and booze and it somehow mixes together in the most delicious way.

“Kiss me, Eddie, please,” you breathe, your head spinning and your senses filled with nothing but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into him. His lips are soft, but demanding in the way they work against yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, your hips, your ass, searching every inch of your body.

“Fuck, baby, I need more of you. Can I have more of you?” he asks, breathless as he pulls away from your mouth.

“Yes, Eddie, please,” and with that, he’s lifting you bridal-style off of his sofa and carrying you to his bedroom.

He sets you down on the bed and immediately you’re pulling your shirt over your head and then grabbing at the hem of his. You don’t know what came over you but you know that you need him. Kissing you, licking you, filling you with him. His energy is addictive and fuck, you’re hooked. Once the two of you are down to your underwear, Eddie’s mouth is on you again. Claiming your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, and honestly if it weren’t for the weed in your system, you’d probably be embarrassed at the sounds leaving you.

Eddie kisses all the way down your body before settling himself between your thighs. He lets out an amused hum at the wet patch that’s stained your underwear.

“Fuck, sweetheart, this wet for me already?” he teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Shut up and get your mouth on me right now,” you say, but it comes out sounding like more of a beg than a demand.

Eddie smirks and shimmies your panties down your legs, trailing kisses on the insides of your thighs, biting at the plush skin. Without warning his mouth is on your dripping cunt, his tongue plunging into you like it’s his lifeline. You’re squirming and writhing beneath him, gripping his sheets so hard you’re surprised they haven’t torn. He’s a master with his tongue, like some sensual wizard, working all of his magic on you. His tongue laps at you hungrily, collecting the wetness that’s seeping out of you. He sucks on your clit, eliciting pornographic sounds from your mouth. He laughs against you, the vibrations sending delicious waves of electricity straight to your core.

“Eddie, shit- I’m so fucking close,” you breathe out, desperate beneath him.

But as soon as you get the words out, he removes himself from the spot between your thighs that weeps for him. His chin is glistening with your slick, and he’s got a devilish grin on his face.

“W-why did you stop?” You ask, not even caring about how pitiful you sound.

“Gonna make you wait til I’m inside you sweetheart, I’m gonna get you cumming so hard around my dick,” he purrs, suddenly right next to you, speaking right into your ear.

You feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and his voice sends chills through your body. He stands up, slipping out of his boxers and letting his cock spring free. You feel like your eyes are going to pop out of your head like a cartoon as you survey his entire frame in front of you. His cock is big, maybe 8 inches, with a leaking pink tip staring you right in the face. His balls hang heavy between his thighs and you fantasize about having them in your mouth.

“Let me just grab a condom, pretty girl,” Eddie starts to open the drawer to his bedside table, but you reach over to grab his wrist.

“N-no, please. I’m on the pill. N-need you to fuck me raw, Eddie, please,” you’re fully begging him, looking up at him with wide, lust blown eyes.

Eddie’s cock twitches as he looks at your already too-fucked-out face, and he swallows the lump in his throat.

“You sure, baby?” he asks, climbing over top of you and kissing you softly.

“Yeah, fuck, need to feel all of you,” you’re breathless beneath him and your cunt is leaking a mess onto his sheets.

“Alright sweetheart, c’mon, on your hands and knees for me baby,” Eddie commands you, and you oblige immediately.

He has you facing the mirror on his wall, and he lines himself up behind you.

“I want you to watch while I fuck the shit out of you..” Eddie whispers into your ear, “-can you do that for me? Gonna watch yourself get fucked, baby?”

You’re nodding way too hard, way too fast. “Yes, Eddie, wanna watch you fuck me..”

Eddie presses a few kisses to your shoulders as he starts to spread you open with his cock. His tip pushes past your entrance, getting sucked into your velvety walls. He inhales sharply, digging his fingertips into your hips. He pushes further into you, spreading you wider for him, going deeper deeper deeper. Your insides burn deliciously at the size of him, wanting all of him and then some.

“Fuck, Eddie. Oh my god, you’re so big,” you moan beneath him, pleasure washing over you as you accommodate to the stretch to fit him.

“Look at you, taking all of me like a good girl,” he praises, rubbing a hand over your ass before leaving a swift smack on the soft skin.

You groan at the sudden sting, pushing your ass further back into him, silently pleading for more. He spanks you again - once, twice, three times, the skin turning pink. You ache for him, every slap sending shockwaves through your entire body. All you want in this moment is for him to fuck you dumb.

“Please move, Eddie, need you to move,” you whimper, watching his face twist into a sick grin in the mirror.

“So desperate for me, sweetheart,” he coos, but ultimately gives in to your request.

He doesn’t start slow, either. He pulls all the way out of you before ramming himself back in, a wet squelching sound filling the room. He keeps his thrusts at a steady pace, gripping your hips so hard you’re sure the skin will be purple and blue tomorrow. You watch the whole scene in the mirror, taking note of the way your tits bounce with his thrusts, the way he’s biting his lip in concentration. You reach one hand down to your clit and start rubbing quick circles on the sensitive bud. Eddie catches this in your reflection.

“Such a good fucking girl, touch yourself for me sweet thing,” his voice is low and thick, full of lust, and it makes your stomach flip.

He continues pounding into you from behind, a fistful of your hair in one hand, a fistful of your ass in the other. You can’t tear your eyes from the mirror, suddenly wondering why the fuck you ever thought you weren’t gonna go home with this man tonight. His balls slap-slap-slap against your skin, the noise mingling with the wet sounds from your sopping heat. Your orgasm is creeping up on you quickly, and you increase your pace on your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head. Meanwhile Eddie’s groaning behind you, so blissed out on your pussy, loving the way you squeeze around his cock. He talks you through the whole thing, degrading you in between praises, ‘Feel s’fucking good, sweetheart’ ‘Like to watch me ruin you, huh? Such a fucking whore for me’ ‘Wanna fuck you forever, baby, shit’.

“E-Eddie,” you choke out, his thick cock unrelenting in its assault on your pussy. “Don’t f-fucking stop… gonna cum,”

You’re practically sobbing beneath him, his grip on your hair and his moans filling your ears and his cock stuffing you so, so full are all sensations that become near overwhelming in the most enticing way possible. Before you can even process it, you’re clenching around his length, orgasm washing heavily over you. Eddie’s pulling on your hair roughly, keeping your head upright, ensuring that you’re watching yourself come undone.

“That’s it, baby, soak my cock,” he coos, easing you through your high.

He loosens his grip on your hair as you start to come down, your arms giving out beneath you as you slump slightly into his mattress. He holds you up with one hand under your belly, though, picking up his pace once again. You might as well be screaming beneath him and you’re positive the whole damn trailer park is getting a show, but you don’t have it in you to give a shit. He feels so good inside you and your body is practically vibrating with pleasure.

Eddie’s thrusts start to get sloppier and his breathing grows heavier than before.

“Need to cum in this pussy baby, gonna let me cum in your tight little cunt?” he’s bent over you, growling in your ear, making you tremble.

“Yes- god, Eddie! Want to be full of your cum,” you squeak back, your voice almost knocked out of you.

A few more sloppy thrusts and Eddie’s spilling inside of you, coating your walls with him. You’re really appreciating the mirror in front of you as you watch his face while he pumps you full of his cum, his head thrown back, messy curls falling around his shoulders.

He finally pulls out of you, and you completely deflate onto his mattress, body spent. You can feel his release leaking out of you, sticky and warm between your thighs. Eddie collapses beside you and immediately pulls you into him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You okay, sweet thing?” he murmurs, rubbing your back gently with one hand.

“Mhm, you’re insanely good, what kind of spell did you put on me? I wasn’t even gonna speak to you at the bar and now I’m hooked,” you look up at him, giggling.

“I would never tell my secrets, sweetheart,” he teases. “I think you just liked me from the moment you saw me on stage,” he pokes your nose with his index finger, making you laugh.

“Yeah, okay, fine. Maybe.”

“Wanna stay the night? I can think of a few good ways I could wake you up tomorrow morning..” Eddie’s smirking at you, but his eyes are so kind, almost pleading for you to stay with him.

You think maybe, just maybe, this guy’s worth taking a chance on for the long haul.

A half hour later and the two of you are cleaned up, wrapped up in each other under the blankets on Eddie’s bed, him snoring softly with his head resting on yours. Your last thought before falling asleep, is that you should really thank your date for not showing up tonight.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

Text

The Encore Performance

hello gang,, i wrote this so fucking long ago,, and it is not my greatest work but every time i open up my google docs this piece stares at me judgementally, yelling and screaming to be released to the world (it was written during peak eddie munson era in a fit of horniness, so maybe july 2022) pls enjoy the pwp

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, oral sex (f!recieving), fem!reader, exhibitionism, eddie is kind of a perv in this sorry

Eddie’s eyes have been on you all night, fingers moving absentmindedly across the frets of his guitar. It’s like you want to drive him completely insane, your tits bouncing in your tiny little dress as you bang your head to the music, your glistening body bathed in the purple light of the club.

The air feels electric, charged and volatile; so different from the dingy yellow lighting of the Hideout. A new venue, a new crowd, and they’re fucking loving it. Eddie should be pandering to these new fans, trying to keep the band’s spot and maybe make these gigs a regular thing. Instead, his eyes are trained unwaveringly on you, his pretty, pretty girlfriend, supporting him and dancing to his music.

He has to spend the entire set rock hard under his jeans, grateful for the presence of his guitar over the obvious bulge of his cock.

The crowd still goes nuts after their last song, pleading for another encore, but Eddie’s frantic in trying to discreetly adjust himself before helping the guys put the stage equipment away. He knows how he must look, face sweaty and flushed, hair frazzled around his face. He hopes he can blame it on the adrenaline from the show and not how fucking horny he is.

He turns from placing an amp in Gareth’s truck to see you; giggling as you talk to one of the bartenders, your skin straining against the tight fabric of your dress. And though Eddie knows that you probably aren’t flirting, and that you’d definitely never cheat on him, he also sees how the bartender’s eyes are staring much lower on your body than where your eyes are, wiping off a glass slowly and deliberately. Eddie knows that you’d lay this guy out before he could try anything, but he also can’t help how his vision goes red as he stalks over.

“Eddie!” You smile when he finally gets to you, snuggling into his side while he puts a strong arm around your waist. “Jake,” you say, looking back at the bartender, “this is Eddie, my boyfriend. Eddie,” you look up at him with those big eyes he loves so much, “this is Jake.”

Eddie smiles at Jake, or tries to smile, it may come out more like a grimace, but doesn’t offer any kind of reply. Jake’s eyes widen minutely at the sight of him, and Eddie loves how he takes a small step back. Perks of being the Hawkins "devil worshipper" he guesses.

Jake’s eyes are suddenly anywhere but you, and Eddie struggles against the urge to snarl at him. He glances down at you to see your eyes furrow slightly in confusion, picking up on the fact that there’s definitely something wrong with your boyfriend.

“Baby,” Eddie says, squeezing the fat of your hip, “I gotta talk to you real quick, ‘s that alright?”

“Yeah, of course, Eds,” you say, and turn back to Jake. “Look, it was really nice meeting you, Jake. You have a good night, okay?” Jake mutters a quiet, "yeah, you too,” before turning away to wipe at a glass a little too harshly to be normal. But Eddie’s already dragging you away with the arm he has around your waist, bypassing the back door of the club to pull you down a long hallway.

“Eddie, what’s going o-” you try to say, but are swiftly cut off by Eddie’s lips on yours, his long body pressing you into the wall. You gasp into his mouth as his big hands slide from your hips down to the backs of your thighs, lifting them up to wrap around his waist.

“Jesus Christ, baby, you tryin’ to drive me insane out there?” he mutters into your mouth, pressing the obscene bulge in his jeans against the heat of your pussy through your thin panties. “Wearing this tight little dress, looking like a fucking whore, got everyone out there looking at you. But you’re mine, aren’t you baby? All fucking mine.”

All you can do is whimper softly in response, barely having the presence of mind to remember that there are people barely twenty feet away, people who could easily walk down this hallway and see what Eddie has reduced you to. Eddie pulls back from your plush lips to look at you, and then smirks like the bastard he is.

“You think you could stay quiet for me, pretty girl?” Eddie whispers, and doesn’t wait for a response before he’s gripping your thighs again while he drops to his knees, eye-level with your clothed cunt. He sets one of your feet on the ground to keep you standing while he hooks your other thigh over his shoulder, leaving you open and exposed, just for him.

“Eddie, I don’t-” you cut yourself off with a gasp when Eddie pulls your panties to the side and licks a long stripe up your dripping pussy. You clap a hand over your mouth as your eyes clench shut and your thighs tremble.

Eddie smiles up at you, his pretty girl, already wrecked from just the touch of his mouth. He keeps his fingers hooked into your panties, and finally allows himself to dive in, just like he’s been imagining since you walked out in your little dress.

You can’t hold back the whines echoing in the back of your throat as Eddie plunges his tongue deep into your pussy, the hardness of his nose pressing into your clit. Stay quiet stay quiet stay quiet. You’re trying to repeat the command in your head, but it’s so fucking difficult when Eddie shakes his head from side to side, starving for it. The movement makes his nose rub back and forth across your clit, and your hips jerk hard against his face, your free hand winding into Eddie’s thick hair.

“Eddie, Eddie, someone’s gonna hear baby, they’re gonna see, oh god,” you whisper softly, and you can feel the vibrations of Eddie’s quiet groans into your cunt.

You whimper softly when he pulls away from you to whisper, “then you better make yourself cum, pretty girl. The faster you cum, the faster I can take you home and fuck you properly.”

He dives in once again, this time wrapping his lips around your throbbing clit and sucking. You whine like a fucking animal, hips bucking and swiveling, trying to get away, trying to get closer. Eddie’s hands come up to grip tight onto your hips, his rings digging sharply into your flesh, and you relish in the idea of seeing harsh bruises in the shape of his fingertips tomorrow morning.

You can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, almost painful with the need to cum. Your head snaps to the end of the hallway, and you see all of the people walking through the club, dancing and drinking. People who have no idea that Eddie’s eating your pussy with your dress hitched up and your panties pulled to the side. People who have no idea that you’re always so desperate for Eddie, that you’d let him fuck you any time, any place. They have no idea that you’re going to cum all over his face, and he’s going to walk out there with his messy hair and pretty eyes and your juices still on his lips, oh god-

You desperately suck air into your lungs to stave off your scream as you cum, pussy clenching and dripping all over Eddie’s face, your hips shaking uncontrollably.

“Eddie, Eddie, oh my god, Eddie, I can’t, I can’t, ‘s too much,” you whisper into the quiet of the hallway, the obscene sounds of Eddie licking at your cunt thundering in your ears. You can tell Eddie doesn’t want to stop, he never does, but you think you’ll start crying if he keeps going. You tug his hair roughly, wrenching him away from your cunt.

“Please, please kiss me, baby,” you whine, and Eddie can only nod at you, his face flushed and his lips puffy and shiny. Your thigh falls off his shoulder as he stands up to capture your lips in a filthy kiss. He tastes like cigarettes, beer and your pussy.

Eddie keeps holding onto your hips as they twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your eyes feel heavy, your brain mushy and weak.

“My beautiful girl, shit, all mine, y’look so pretty like this baby,” Eddie’s whispering, sneaking little kisses onto your lips in between words. “You wanna get out of here baby? C’mon, let’s get home, yeah?” You nod blearily, going to step forward, but your knees stay locked.

“Eddie,” you whisper, your foggy eyes going wide. “I don’t think I can move my legs.”

You watch Eddie’s brows furrow, and his lips perk up. He stares at your face, all flushed and flustered, and a snort escapes his nose. Soon enough, little giggles are escaping his lips, delirious and endlessly smug.

“Don’t laugh!” You whine, nuzzling your red face into his chest.

Eddie runs a comforting hand down your back as he tamps down his giggles. “Sorry baby, I’m sorry. It’s just, y’know, not many guys can say they’ve literally made their girl cum so hard they couldn’t walk.” You whine again, but Eddie shushes you gently. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you home, sweet pea.”

You don’t have time to wonder what he means by that before Eddie reaches down to cup one hand under your knees, the other staying under your back, and lifts you into his arms with a soft grunt.

“Eddie!” You squeak, but your boyfriend is already walking out towards the club again, paying no mind to the throngs of people still moving around you both. You tuck your burning face into his neck, giggling nearly hysterically, as Eddie whisks you away. You think you’d let him take you anywhere.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut

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heavenlycloud · 4 months

Text

quit: park sooyoung x fem! reader

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

cw// toxic relationships, HEAVY smut, swearing, situationships / fwb, manipulation, crying, NSFW again

men and minors dni!

a/n: i saw this pic of joy while looking for new layout pics and i couldn't help but let my mind wander...plus i've been dying to write something for this song. i'm still getting used to writing nsfw so pls be nice :) feedback would be greatly appreciated since this is my first time posting nsfw on my blog

and you say that i'm the devil you know and i don't disagree. no, i don't see the harm...they say, "you crazy, just leave him, he'll suffocate you" but i wanna be in your arms...

everyone in your friend circle warned you about her. they told you she would do more harm than good. they said she's not genuine, that she's only after one thing, sex. it'd be a lie if you said you didn't believe them because you knew getting involved with her was a disaster waiting to happen. however, there was something about her that was so addicting and you weren't ready to give up the drug that she was...you probably never will be. she's just that damn good.

they say, "no, don't pick up the phone, let them think there's nobody home" but i'm under your spell... 'cause when you call my heart starts to roll, i always want more, it's my heaven, my hell...

your bedroom window blew cool, night air into your apartment as you sat on your bed. you mindlessly ran your fingers along the cords of your electric guitar playing the first song that came to mind. surely the residents in the floors above and below you would complain about being woken up to kiss it better by rihanna, but you didn't care. it was well past one in the morning and you should've been asleep but here you were.

right as you finished the end of the chorus a muffled humming sound came from between your bed and pillows. you didn't even have to check to know who it was, and you definitely knew you shouldn't answer. all of your friends told you to ignore her calls, let her think you're not around so you ignored it. instead of calling again, you heard a loud knock at the front door of your apartment. ignoring the advice of everyone else and your own intuition, you got up and answered the door.

we're heading deep inside lives a voice, a voice so quiet. but i can't hear that voice when your heart beats next to mine...

sooyoung stood in the doorway looking like an abandoned puppy with her hair damp and wearing a sullen face. her eyes were red with her tearstained cheeks and swollen lips, "h-he broke up with me..." her voice cracked and she hiccupped between her words, the same ones you heard at least twice a month.

the opportunity to turn her away was still there but when she looked up at you with that same damn pout, it was over. without missing a beat you pulled her into your apartment and closed and locked the door behind you both. you led her to your room where your guitar and amp had been pushed off to a corner, leaving your bed open.

she walked into your arms and gripped onto the back of your shirt as she sobbed, "i-i hate him so much." you pulled her into your chest and agreed, "i do too." sooyoung pulled away from you and bunched her hands in the hem of your oversized t shirt, "i need you, y/n. please... "

i can't quit you, i can't quit you...yeah, i'm gonna regret it... know I'm gonna regret it.

god does she know exactly what to say especially with that stupid pout you always give into. you bring your hands up to hold her face, and gently wipe her tears away with your thumbs. sooyoung leaned into your touch and kissed the inside of one of your palms sweetly. you swiped your thumb across her lip slowly dragging the motion out and she sucked your finger into her mouth. her soft tongue swirled around your skin and you affirmed, "i'll make you feel better i promise. let me take care of you, baby."

when you said, "baby, i just want you to lay me down and we'll fuck the pain away" 'cause skin on skin, i feel nothing but the burning of desire and that's just foreplay...

you pressed your lips against sooyoung's and she melted into your touch with ease. her arms slipped from inside her jacket and you tossed it aside. you found the zipper on the back of her dress and unzipped it slowly, letting the material hang from her body before completely dropping to the floor. she stepped out of the skirt and kicked it aside to another spot on your floor. your lips pressed against her neck until you reached her collarbone where you stopped.

sooyoung whined at the loss of contact and you smirked to yourself in satisfaction. you stood behind her and lifted her chin with your finger to angle her gaze to your wall length mirror. sooyoung stared at herself right as you unclipped her bra and let it fall away. one hand rested on her waist while another on her shoulder. you ran your fingertips down her arm and she let out a soft gasp.

your breath ghosted her neck as you said, "look at how pretty you are." she shyly turned her face into your neck and one hand found your wrist as you moved your other one to her panties. the hand on her chest teased her breast, tugging at one of her nipples eliciting a high pitched sound from her, "a-aah." you smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, before holding her head up so she could see herself. your free hand slipped into her panties and with the lightest of touches, ghosted her dampened folds.

sooyoung squeezed her eyes shut and you clicked your tongue, "ah ah, look at your reflection. see how pretty you look?" her eyes slowly opened and you began rubbing slow circles around her heated center, ignoring where she needed it that most. sooyoung pleaded softly, "y/n...please." you hummed and dragged your thumb against her clit, making her knees buckle underneath her.

her weight rested on you and you smiled, "so needy and i haven't even done anything....do you know how much i love seeing you like this?" she didn't reply as you continued drawing patterns against her soaked pussy. she looked at you in the mirror and said, "y/n please." you slipped your hands from her panties and admired the sheen of slick. teasingly you brought them up to sooyoung's lips and watched her mouth fall open, just for you to lightly swipe her bottom lip and put your fingers in your own mouth.

you sucked her essence off of your fingers and hummed in satisfaction. watching as sooyoung pathetically licked her bottom lip for the smallest taste of herself, and feeling her sigh in relief against you. gently, you backed her against your bed and let her fall into the plush warmth. she was completely engulfed in your scent making her yearn for your touch even more. she looked up at you with those same doe eyes, searching for any signs of continuing your ministrations.

an airy gasp left her lips as you pressed the softest of kisses along her chest. you brushed your lips across one of her breasts and gently kissed one of her nipples while you free hand traced around the other. sooyoung let out a frustrated grunt as her chest pushed up for her hardened bud to meet your lips which only made you laugh. she breathed out, "please i need you..." you kissed the side of her breast and smiled, "you have me." she shook her head and repeated with more want, "no i need you to touch me."

looking up at her you pressed more kisses along her breast, swapping to the other before you asked, "where do you need me, baby?" sooyoung bit her lip as you sucked on her nipple and tugged on it with your teeth. when she didn't reply, you pulled away and started to move from atop her. in a panicked effort of desperation she snatched your hand into her own, and lowered it to her soaked heat, "here, i need you here." only then did you climb back over her and kiss down her toned abdomen, suckling marks and bites into her plush skin.

sooyoung spread her legs and let you settle between them, flinching slightly when your hand palmed her inner thighs. you ran your thumb over her heated flesh and nicked the surface with your teeth. by now you could smell how bad she wanted you and she was nearly shaking with desperation. just to put her on edge further, you kissed right against her folds, just missing where she wanted you most.

you coaxed smoothly, "tell me what you want, use your words, angel." sooyoung's voice came out just above a whisper as she said, "your mouth, please." heat flushed over her face when she looked down at you between her legs just in time to see you place a kiss to her clit. her hands flew to the top of your head just for you to slip one of your hands into her own.

the heat of your tongue against her molten center sent her eyes rolling to the back of her head. you laved through her folds hungrily tasting her as if she were the forbidden fruit from the heavenly garden. sooyoung breathily gasped and whined beneath you which sent a wave of confidence through your body. you let out a low moan, "you taste so good..." and it took everything in her to not let go right then and there. one of her hands fisted you soft bedsheets while the other squeezed onto yours, fingers intertwined with your own. when you gave her swollen bud another light suck she held her breath until she couldn't anymore. her body stuttered for a moment and a high pitched moan fell past her lips.

your fingers slipped into her heated core, helping her ride through her high before slowly kissing up her body to meet her lips. the taste of herself lingered on your tongue and filled her mouth, making her moan weakly. you brushed a piece of hair from her face and smiled softly, "my pretty girl." sooyoung's face twisted up at the nickname and she mumbled, "that's what he called me too..." immediately a pit of aggravation filled your stomach and you leaned closer to her, lips barely touching hers, "you're thinking of him when i'm right here?"

out of pure frustration you pushed her lightly away from you and started to get up, not knowing why you even bothered because she was always like this. no matter what you'd done in the past she always ran back to that bum ass man of hers. sooyoung grabbed your hand and pleaded, "no wait- please. y/n i'm sorry i just want you...it's always been you." she was too damn good at saying what you wanted to hear because no part of you genuinely believed her last words, yet you found yourself crawling back over her ready to make her mean what she said.

this time will be different.

we're heading deep inside lives a voice, a voice so quiet. but i can't hear that voice when your heart beats next to mine

you kissed her on her lips again and pushed her back down into your bed as she stared up at you. there was a specific hunger in your gaze that she'd never seen before that had her more excited than before.

i can't quit you, i can't quit you. yeah i'm gonna regret it, i know i'm gonna regret it

sooyoung's legs fell back open as you made your way back into the same spot before, kissing her swollen bud and laughing when she jumped. she rolled her head to rest on her shoulder and whined, "n-ngh i- wait i'm still sensitive..." you looked up at her through a hooded gaze, "i don't care. you look so beautiful under me." you connected your lips to her heated core and sucked harshly. her thighs closed around your head and you pushed them back open with enough force to make her whimper.

your fingers prodded at her entrance, your tongue dragging from her slit up to her engorged clit. sooyoung's hands violently fisted the sheets as she tried to hold out longer. but you were no match for her as you knew her body like the back of your hand. her second climax came and her sweet honey oozed from her center and onto your tongue. you sucked more into your mouth without wasting a drop before holding it there. she watched in near horror as you made your way up to her, tapping on her chin wordlessly.

sooyoung's lips parted and you stuck your sopping wet fingers into her mouth, drool running down her lips. when you withdrew them, you held her chin and tipped her head back slightly before spitting into her mouth. the mixture of your saliva and her slick filled her mouth, and she swallowed it without hesitation. your fingers massaged her soft pussy, making her begin to close her legs again. you looked down at her and said, "be good for me, open your legs." she followed your orders and squeezed her mouth shut as her thighs began to shake.

you looked at the tears that began to fill her eyes, only smiling and rubbing her center harder until her tears fell. she craned her neck up to meet her lips as you began to lean down, but instead you dragged your tongue along her smooth cheek, licking the trail of tears from her face. you laughed as she began to squirm more, beginning to beg, "i- y/n i- something is...i can't please-" you pushed your fingers further into her heated center, letting your thumb lightly bump her clit.

she began to close her legs and you pulled out of her and quickly reached forward. you laughed in her face as tears fell from her eyes and she nearly screamed, her swollen nub squeezed harshly between your thumb and pointer finger. sooyoung begged you, "ah- i- y/n-" you silenced her with a kiss and let her go, watching her sigh of relief only briefly until you pushed back into her.

you looked her in the eyes and told her firmly, "you can take it sooyoungie." her swollen pout and pleading eyes found yours and she repeated to herself pitifully, "i can take it. i-i can take it." you kissed her lips and cheek as you drew her only seconds from her third orgasm, "such a good girl for me huh?" she nodded eagerly as tears fell from her eyes and you kissed them away, "such a pretty girl when you cry for me. my pretty angel, my sooyoung." that moment the last name fell from your lips you felt her walls squeeze your fingers and push them out.

a stream of clear liquid leaked from her pussy as she shook beneath you, her own hand finding her clit and massaging it through her orgasm. you didn't hesitate to go down and lick up her mess, humming at the salty taste that was so uniquely hers. a taste you'd found yourself addicted to, always craving for more.

i can't quit you, i can't quit you, oh baby. i can't quit you, i can't quit you, oh babe

sooyoung pushed your head away and you kissed her inner thighs that were still slightly shaking. she had her eyes closed in a fucked out bliss that only you'd ever given her. you smirked to yourself and asked her sweetly, "who's on your mind now, angel?" sooyoung's eyes opened weakly and she hummed, "hmmm? s' you....only y/n. only want y/n." you placed a kiss on her cheek and laid beside her before she curled into your arms, tucking her head into your side. as you thought you'd finally won, sooyoung was beside you smiling to herself because she was the only winner, she always was.

you were only a pawn in her little game but she'd be lying if she said you weren't her favorite player. all this time people told you that she was obsessed with you, the idea of you. but in reality you were addicted to all of her, just another person hooked on the thought of winning the game. always under the impression that you were closer and closer to winning the grand prize, winning her over. but in reality you were just another piece in her puzzle. nevertheless, you'd never quit all that was park sooyoung.

i'm gonna regret it babe, babe, babe, gonna regret it, yeah, i'm gonna regret it...

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ukiyoq34 · 5 months

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Sweet things〜☆

Important! - This is my first time like writing something on here so pls go easy on me!

Desc- Xiao x Reader, Xiao can play the electric guitar, Xiao with piercings, Modern AU! Theres no pronouns just sweet cute fluff!!

　　　　　　☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

-Xiao who would often blush at the thought of you to the point where even if someone mentions you he’d try to change the topic as much as he could. He’s new to this! He can’t handle all these new feelings that’s making him fall behind on his studies.

-Xiao who refuses to admit any feelings for you. You’re just a stupid curse. A curse he can’t get rid of. A curse he doesn’t want to get rid of. A curse he’s drawn to. A curse he wants to protect. A curse he wants to love, but of course he would never come to believe his own feelings

-Xiao who would glare at you for hours as if he’s giving you a death stare but in reality, he’s been unconsciously admiring your appearance as he wonders what’s making him be so drawn to you. It’s only until you two make eye contact for a brief moment that makes him look away as a soft blush is adorned on his face

-Xiao who would often try to get the courage to speak to your friends to find out more about you. Though, he tries his best not to make it obvious but there are times where he accidentally slips something out about his feelings but immediately covers it up. Luckily your friends were understanding enough to play along with him an act as if they were oblivious to Xiaos feelings towards so one day he could come forward to you.

-Xiao who enjoys crafting in his spare time, would often make you little gifts of things you like. He would put all his love and effort into it making sure it’s perfect almost as perfect as you but he believes nothing can come close to you. He blushes at his own thought of you.

-Xiao who would listen to songs that remind him of you. He would listen to your favorite songs even if it’s not his type he would still find himself listening to them because it just solely reminds him of you.

-Xiao who would build up courage just to ask you to see the new things he’d learn on the guitar. He would play subtle love song without trying to make it obvious. Once hes done playing he’d look at you with a hint of a hopeful look in his eyes hoping you enjoyed it. After all, he’s been practicing day and night to impress you.

-Xiao who finally built up the courage to tell you how he felt but little did he know you would do the same leading to you both confessing at the same time. It’s safe to say that once xiao heard your words and how you felt the same towards him, he became a blushing mess.

-Xiao who would show his affection through acts of service. Tying your shoes, carrying your book or backpack, brushing your hair, helping you out something on, doing your chores, taking care of you, and surprising you with small gestures of kindness and little gifts.

-Xiaos favorite part of you has to be your voice, he may not talk much himself but he’d gladly listen to you talk about whatever you want. He’d listen to you no matter what because to him your voice is the most gentle of all melodys that can touch and warm his heart.

💞

Extra! A song that he falls asleep to that basically is how he feels towards you is “Lonely Day” by System Of A Down. (It’s kinda like a romantic goth song not entirely sure though but it’s good!)

#xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x reader genshin #xiao fluff #Fluff #genshin fluff #genshin #sweet #lovely #romantic #warm #Xiao #new writers on tumblr #meow

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rrxnjun · 8 months

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i felt younger when we met | n. yuta

nakamoto yuta was your hero. as the lead singer of the rising punk band takes you along with him on his journey to stardom, you realize that you never knew heartbreak could taste so sweet.

PAIRING: nakamoto yuta x fem! reader STARRING: lead singer! yuta, guitarist! doyoung, bassist! johnny, drummer! mark GENRE: rockstar au, band au. angst, suggestive. WC: 17k (17.630) WARNINGS: age gap, mentions of alcohol, weed and hard drugs, yuta and his band actually played the warped tour (canon!) pls somebody tell me yall get the reference, cheating and breaking up

PLAYLIST: honey - l'arc en ciel ; i felt younger when we met - waterparks ; your power - billie eilish ; motion sickness - phoebe bridgers ; guys my age - hey violet ; praha/vídeň - calin ; drugs - cheridomingo

A/N: oh yall are gonna HAATE this one. thank you arden @zhongriot for brainstorming with me about this it was greatly appreciated <3 growing up is realizing doyoung was actually the only decent one and that jaechan was right. also the original title of this wip was honey so sweet bc of the honey cover just so yall know lol

I. honey, so sweet

The last few tones of a G chord resonate through the garage, the platinum blond’s raspy voice fading out into silence as you watch the band in front of you with stars in your eyes, breathless and with your ears ringing only slightly due to the noise that’s been happening for quite some time now. Feeling yourself clap and squeal at the little show you just finished watching, you’re brought up to your feet as you jump around enthusiastically, the sound of the thick sole of your boot against the ground waking you up only slightly from the weird state of euphoria you’ve been in until now.

You’ve known Yuta for quite some time now, but this was the first time he let you watch his band practice. Everything you’ve known about the music he plays was through the headphones sneakily passed to you when you had a night shift at the diner, or from the voice memos he’d send you very early on in the morning when you were supposed to be asleep, and everything you’ve known about his band members was through his words shared in the comfort of his car seats or the benches in the park. You’ve seen Mark once before, when he had late dinner with Yuta while you were working at the diner downtown, but your interaction didn’t go further than a polite greeting and a boyish grin sent your way from the charming drummer.

It’s only natural that everything about the late night feels ecstatic to you now. The tones of electric guitars and the rhythm of the drums making your heart beat faster than before, Yuta’s sharp, yet hearty vocals calling to you like sirens in the middle of the ocean. Tonight’s one of the few nights you don’t have night shift at the diner– since you usually take all Friday night ones; you get paid more for them and with your schedule at school, you can’t afford to work more night shifts throughout the week– and Yuta took that as an opportunity to invite you over to his garage to listen to his band play. The lead singer made eye contact with you throughout each song, and you felt yourself flush at the thought that the words coming out of his mouth might have been addressed to you, written about you, adrenaline soaring freely through your veins.

“That was amazing! Wow, like,” you throw your hands up, at a loss for words, “I literally couldn’t believe my ears.”

“You expected less of me, babe?” Yuta grins at you from his place at the microphone stand, taking a step back from the device to put away the guitar hanging around his neck. You watch his movements intensively, eyes scanning the outline of his biceps and the loose hems of his jet black shirt, the platinum white hair falling into his eyes. “I thought you already knew what we were made of when I let you listen to our songs back then.”

“Well,” you sheepishly hum, “it’s different to hear it live.”

The singer snickers, shrugging to himself. “Told you to prepare yourself.”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried,” you compliment the man, eyes watching the rest of the band as they put their respective instruments away. And again, you don’t know these men that well– you’re not as familiar with them as you are with their frontman, since you haven’t spent much time around them just yet– but there’s something joyful in the bassist, Johnny’s smile when he meets your eye before he puts away his guitar into its dark blue case.

Their band– Neo zone– consists of four members. Yuta, your friend, plays the guitar and sings. He’s the frontman of the group and also the person that founded the band; at least that’s what he told you. He met Johnny at college– both of them majoring in Finance before they decided to drop out in their sophomore year– and soon after, he recruited his friend to be the bassist for his band. The two of them met Doyoung, their lead guitarist, at a concert of an underground band some years ago through a mutual friend Taeyong, and they all hit it off so well that when the thought of a band first came to light, Yuta wasted no time in chatting up the charming male for the position. And lastly, their drummer Mark– he was the youngest of them all, the most quiet one, and from what Yuta told you, he met the man through his younger brother. The two of them were friends at college, so Mark spent a lot of time over at Yuta’s house, and he knew that the male could play the drums– so after a casual conversation over a beer one evening, here they were.

“I’m heading home,” says the drummer, waving at the rest of the group, “I have a thing I’m supposed to attend with Jaehyun today.”

“Aight,” Yuta hums, nodding, “good job today, Markie. See you next week!”

The male disappears out of the rusty garage in no time, and with him follows the tall one– Johnny– saying he has a morning shift at the store he works at tomorrow, excusing himself out of the after-practice hangout. That leaves only you, Yuta and Doyoung in the room, and while you’d like to get to know his friends and bandmates better, you’d be more satisfied if either all of them stayed behind, or if the only one who stayed was anyone but the lead guitarist.

See, you don’t know Kim Doyoung that well. All you know about him is that he’s a year younger than Yuta and that he’s painfully good at what he does. You also know that he has a sharp jawline and even sharper eyes, which he gladly lands on you whenever he hears you talk, and that motion makes you self-conscious and insecure on most instances. He also has a sharp tongue, which you learned not that long after being first introduced to him this afternoon, and while you don’t know what you did to get on the man’s nerves so much, you figured it’s for the best to interact with him as least as humanly possible if you wanted to spare your feelings and not get yourself hurt.

“Today was good, but try getting over the last song on your own again,” Doyoung offers to his friend, watching him with cold eyes. Yuta makes his way around the room and takes a seat next to you on the dusty, maroon sofa, his legs spreading wide making your eyes drift towards his lean figure. You watch the exchange silently, picking at the skin of your cuticles anxiously, hoping for it to be over quickly.

“The Departure?” Yuta assures himself.

Doyoung nods as he hides his guitar into his case as well, handling the instrument with utmost care. “You went a little off-beat in the last part.”

“Got it, chief,” Yuta jokes, saluting the man, a lazy grin overtaking his features. “Wanna grab a beer and stay over for a bit?” he asks, the question making your insides heaten up with anticipation, stinging a bit of an anxious fear.

It’s almost as if the guitarist feels that you’re afraid of his presence– it’s not like he scares you, to be exact, you’re just slightly intimidated by the serpent-like male– as he meets your eye before he turns towards the frontman. “Nah,” he shrugs, “I’m good. Maybe next time,” he adds, taking the guitar case off the ground and heading towards the door.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

“Try not to fuck the kid on the couch, right? We sit there sometimes,” Doyoung snickers before he’s off, his raven bangs bouncing up and down when he skips out of the old-smelling garage. The remark stings you a bit, the harsh words, although you hate to admit it, feel like salt thrown into a fresh wound, having you chew on the inside of your cheek as you listen to the door close behind the male, leaving you alone with Yuta.

The male next to you clears his throat, easing the tension in your muscles when you look up at him and see him smiling softly at you, a twinkle in his eye. “What?” he asks you, sensing that you’re feeling a little down.

“It’s- it’s nothing,” you nod to yourself, not really wanting to be as vulnerable in front of your friend. You treasure Yuta more than anyone else, since you always somehow feel like your souls are connected on a level you haven’t felt with no one your whole life, but sometimes, you feel a bit shameful to admit to your worries in front of him. To the male, the world is his sea, his place that he swims through with passion and enthusiasm. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to worry about what your friends would think of him, no matter how bad it could be. He doesn’t seem like the type of person that would understand you if you worded your anxious feelings out loud, the type of person who’d reassure you without making you feel foolish.

Still, somehow, he sees right through you. “Don’t worry about Doyoung. He’s got a stick up his butt on most days, it’s nothing to have with you,” he says, offering you the gentlest of smiles, poking your cheek a little when he sees you pout.

You heave out a sigh, but offer the man a loop-sided smile– the kind you fake, but hope the receiving side is satisfied– watching him as he scoots closer to you and puts an arm around your shoulder. The scent of his cologne hits your nose and you feel yourself easing into him, the gesture somehow protective and affectionate in your eyes, but the proximity still makes your heart thump fast against your ribcage. Taking a shaky breath through your nose, you find yourself staring intensely at his face.

“So you’re saying you enjoyed hearing us play?” he asks you, tone of voice kitten-like, yearning for praise. He sounds coy, confident, but still searches for hearing you say it out loud. Sometimes you think he enjoys listening to you talk about him. It makes him feel good when you flutter your eyelashes at the male in the middle of the diner and tell him you love the way he sings, it makes his ego grow when you gasp at all the right parts and compliment the lyrics in the chorus. And you don’t think it’s a bad thing– you think you’d do the same if you were in his shoes.

Hushed voice, you nod eagerly, grinning. “Yeah,” you agree. “I also enjoyed seeing you play,” you muse, watching as the satisfied look on Yuta’s face grows and his excited eyes gleam with more intensity.

“Did you?” he teases, head ducking closer to you, the proximity making your breathing catch in your throat. You bet he knows about the effect he has on you by now– you bet he realizes that each time he talks to you with that tone, the flirty hint of it in his voice, you feel weak in your knees, ready to fold for him. You bet he is aware of the fact that you watch him all the time, eyes glued to his confident figure, amazed at the way he moves around the garage with his guitar, tinted with a hint of jealousy when the girls that go eat at the diner at the same time he visits you on your night shifts ogle him and he sends some a shameless wink. You’re almost sure he knows about the dreams you have of him at night, about the fact that you fantasize about him writing songs for you and singing them on stage, letting the world know that your feelings might be reciprocated.

The idea makes you cave in on yourself. “Yeah,” you breathe out, feeling heat rising to the tips of your ears.

“That’s good,” he hums, “wanna hear a little secret?” he asks, eyeing you with a glimmer in his eye. You hum in response, eager to be let in on the confidential information. “I wrote the last song about you,” he whispers. “Maybe I’ll release it one day.”

The sentence startles you, the comment makes all sorts of warm gold sprawl around your stomach, the tips of your ears burning and the nerve endings on your fingers tingling from excitement. “Really?” you gasp. You never imagined having a song written about you. You never imagined someone caring enough– never imagined having someone sing to you, about you. Sure, you fantasized about it happening, almost a little foolishly and childishly, but you never once dared to think of the fantasy as true.

Yuta laughs at your composure. You bet you look small in his eyes. “What? Are you shy about it, pretty girl?”

“No,” you peep, averting your gaze from him and aimlessly searching through your surroundings, watching the unmoving garage. Your eyes glue to the white wall in front of you, ignoring the fact that Yuta’s face is only an inch away from yours, your hands now clammy as you rest them in your lap.

“It seems that you are,” he grins, “you don’t have to be, though,” he notes, a finger hooking around the bottom of your chin, a gentle hold making you turn your face towards him, eyes locking in a dangerous blink.

Gaping, not breaking eye contact– too afraid to break the spark– you wait for what’s about to come, welcoming it with open arms. The air around you gets thicker and the silence becomes overbearing, you find yourself counting each white strand that falls into his eyes, when the male leans in to you, the sudden shift making your eyes flutter close on themselves.

It happens, the moment you’ve been dreaming about; the moment you’ve wanted to experience ever since you first met the male, all real and only yours to live over and over in your memories– Yuta kisses you, gently at first, lips playing with yours in a way that makes the soft sense of nervousness flutter like butterfly wings in your stomach. Your shy hands grip the front of his shirt when he deepens the kiss, makes it more firm and urgent, teeth clashing against each other in the messy cacophony of your souls, a sound of a heavy breath flying into your ear as the male grips your jaw and angles your face the way he wants it to, testing the waters with a bit of tongue.

You invite him in, parting your lips and letting him explore, letting him win the battle for dominance– not that you even wanted to be the one in charge in the first place– and although you feel a little overwhelmed, a bit too lost in the moment, you find yourself moving from your place and straddling his lap, the hands that were once cradling your face falling off and gripping your hips, keeping you right where you are.

When you feel your lungs being knocked out of all oxygen, you pull away from the male, eyes locking with his swollen lips, and you feel a bit satisfied with yourself– having him like this, eyes blown-out and staring at you like you were the only thing in the whole entire universe that mattered right in this moment. There’s something about the wrinkles on his shirt from how you’ve been gripping on it, about his flushed cheeks, that makes you feel proud of yourself. You did this to him, you smile, you are the reason why he looks like this.

Pressing your forehead against his, eyes still staring into his deep, dark orbs, the singer breaks out into a boyish grin, shaking his head in disbelief, wanting to bring himself back to the present moment. “So I’ll take it as my pretty girl will come watch me play more often, right?” he hums.

A fluttery feeling erupts in your chest, warmth spreading all the way to the tips of your fingertips. “Your pretty girl?” you ask.

Yuta nods, snickering to himself. “My pretty girl,” he mumbles, and before you get a chance for a rebuttal, he pulls away an inch, cradling his neck up to press a peck to the middle of your forehead.

The adrenaline, the smell of his cologne, the excitement seeping right through you and to the space all around– you never knew Yuta would taste this good. You never knew he could taste this sweet.

II. the rush of adrenaline, I'm not scared to jump in

The smell of burned oil and grease fills your nose as you make your way through the kitchen, figure skipping through the whole diner in irregular intervals during yet another one of your Friday night shifts. Taking the plate filled with chicken nuggets, potatoes and ranch dressing, you offer a quick smile to your coworker Jaechan as you walk out of the back, ready to serve the food to one of your regulars.

As you finally get out of the heated and humid place, back to the main dining area that has air conditioning on, your eyes catch with a certain someone waiting for you at the pult, a grin settling onto his features when you light up at noticing his presence.

“I’ll be right with you,” you say to him as you pass his body and walk over to one of the tables in the corner of the room, smiling at your customer when you give him the plate. Your steps are lighter and more enthusiastic when you get back to Yuta sitting at one of the tall stools, his face still adorned with a soft smile. The male watches you as you work, and you feel warmth envelope your insides.

“Weren’t you supposed to have practice tonight?” you ask him, settling behind the pult. There aren’t many people in the diner right now, and the work during the night is slow– you kind of despise the fact that you’re open 24/7, but that’s what you get for working at a diner– so there’s no issue in you chatting away with your friends that come visit when you have the time. You always make sure to do your job well and put the customers first, so your boss never really complained.

“It’s over already,” he says, “we got over the songs quite quickly,” he notes, seeing you nod and smile at his response.

“That’s good,” you say, “I’m glad. Do you want something? Fries? Coke? On the house, obviously,” you grin, making the man eagerly nod to your question, eyes lit up in joy.

“Just a glass of coke is fine,” he says.

You turn away from him for a mere second, taking one of the clean glasses to your hand and then walking a few steps to the right where the coolers are, taking out a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. Offering the drink back to your boyfriend, you watch him as he pours the black liquid into the tall glass, the two of you enveloped in a comfortable silence. The diner doesn’t play music after 10 PM, and somehow, you’re glad. It gets kind of annoying to listen to the same few songs on loop the whole night– because the speaker system is old and doesn’t have an AUX input, you have to listen to the same 3 CDs over and over again the whole year– and so whenever Yuta comes to visit you during your night shifts, the silence only adds to your sense of intimacy and comfort with the man.

“Was Doyoung less snappy today?” you ask, watching the male grin and shake his head at your question.

“A bit,” he admits, “not too much, though. Don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, but he’s been a real bitch.”

You hum at his response, eyes tracing his features. “Maybe he’s stressed about something,” you propose, and you don’t really put much meaning into your own words– you don’t know the man enough to know how he reacts under pressure, nor do you really care– but the man in front of you only squints his eyes in thought, shrugging.

“Could be it,” he agrees, “I mean, there’s a lot happening with the band right now, so it would be only natural,” he says, making you furrow your brows at him in question. You weren’t aware of anything big happening– maybe the news were recent, you didn’t know, but judging by the fact that you’re pretty updated on things concerning the band, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

“What do you mean?” you ask, folding your hands at your chest and leaning on the counter, your face now closer to Yuta’s– god, you’ll never get used to just how beautiful this man is in your poor eyes.

The singer grins to himself, acting innocent. “Just… some stuff,” he says.

“What is it?” you ask again, this time with a coat of persistence in your voice. You don’t want to say it out loud, but you’re getting kind of worried– Yuta doesn’t usually hide things from you. Hell, you’d even go as far as saying that you are the first person he comes to when something happens, no matter if it’s good or bad, and with the suspicious way he’s acting right now, your mind can’t help but wander.

“Nothing,” he peeps, taking a sip out of his glass, making you sigh and roll your eyes at the male. You point your finger to the middle of his forehead, poking him– his head lulls backwards a little, making you heave out a soft giggle– before you squint at him in annoyance.

“Come on,” you huff, “you’re not gonna tell me?” you pout, mastering your best attempt at puppy eyes– something inside of you tells you that no matter how stubborn Yuta is, he’s kind of weak for you when you look at him like that– and the man only snickers at you as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I will,” he admits, smiling at you. The gesture has you soften a bit, your muscles losing their previous tension, because come on– if he’s smiling at you like that, there’s no way the news could be bad– but before you get a chance to pry him about it, the ring above the door makes a sound and your eyes trace the figures of two girls, both a bit older than you, smiling at someone in particular.

And that someone isn’t you– of course, why would anyone smile at their server, am I right? – that someone is Nakamoto Yuta, the man sitting in front of you, and you’re already familiar enough with the two girls to know what’s about to happen next.

See, you are aware that Yuta is attractive. Hell, you blushed under his gaze when you met him in this diner for the very first time, his hair back then raven black, falling into his eyes. You’re painfully aware of the fact that you’re not the only one who finds him beautiful, but there’s something about the very obvious gazes and giggles the girls who frequent the diner send to him that has your stomach turn, making you see red and feel very obvious green, and no matter what you do or try to tell to yourself, you can’t battle the feeling out of your veins.

The scenario is one you’ve seen before– the girls giggle out as they arrive, sharing a knowing look, before they pass the pult you two are standing behind, sending very obvious looks to Yuta as they reach for the table in the corner. They greet him with their soft, honey voices, they say “Hi Yuta!”, because he’s known around the town– everybody knows the name of the rising band’s lead singer, everybody wants to take a glimpse of him, shoot him a flirtatious smile, because once he makes it big, you can tell yourself you knew him, he knew you, he looked at you and said hi back. Yuta looks at them and grins, sends them a wink, greets them with his raspy voice that says “Hi ladies,”, and it makes your stomach growl, it makes your gaze harden, but most importantly, you feel acid on your tongue when the man in front of you sends them his usual wink.

Clearing your throat as all goes exactly how you remember and expect it to go, you watch as Yuta looks back at you with an innocent smile, not really minding that he told you you were his pretty girl just last week, not really caring that now, his actions have very different consequences. Back when you were uselessly pining over him, you knew your jealousy was foolish– you didn’t really have a reason to feel possessive over the man, because he was very clearly single. Now, things have changed, though, and you kind of expected his behavior to alter around the girls– the girls that are a few years older than you, a few inches taller than you, a bit more mature and a bit more pretty.

“Something’s wrong?” he asks you, face coy and feline-like. You glare at him, knowing he’s aware of what you’re implying, but still, he does nothing to apologize as he only giggles at you and leans in, pecking your lips.

“Everything’s peachy,” you mumble, shaking your head as you take the menus from the counter, ready to serve the customers.

As you’re about to exit the pult and pass your boyfriend, he grabs your wrist and spins you so you face him, making you watch as he downs the last remains of the Coke in his drink, offering you another smile. “I’m gonna get something at the gas station real quick,” he muses, “I’ll wait for you in my car after you get off?”

Sighing, still acting a bit annoyed at his behavior– but knowing, sensing that you already forgave him the moment he spared you a single glance– you nod. The male pulls you closer to him, sending another kiss, this time firmer, to your lips, and if he wasn’t in control of the situation, you know you’d get too lost in the moment, too distracted to do your job– but before you know it, he leans away and stands up from the tall chair, pats your bottom and walks over to the front door.

Watching as he disappears behind the glass, laughing to yourself when he waves at you and blows you a kiss, you shake your head as you walk over to the table with the two girls sitting at it, their mood not as bright as it was before, and with a victorious smirk, you realize, with a hint of joy in your heart, that they’ve been watching the exchange.

The singer waits for you in the parking lot, his figure leaning on the 2007 Volkswagen golf he sometimes drives you home in, and although it’s already 4:45 AM (your shift ends at 4:30, but you have to count up the register and change before you go), you find yourself walking over to him with a pep in your step. The platinum white falls into his eyes as he grins at you, reaching his arms out once you’re close enough, pulling you into a hug.

You and Yuta never really hugged much. You can’t say you dislike the change.

“How was the rest of the shift?” he mumbles into your hair, holding you close to his chest. His arms feel almost possessive, making you feel secure, and something about the whiff you get of his cologne makes your head spin a little when he lets go, watching you as you walk over to the passenger’s side and get into his car.

“It was okay,” you admit, shrugging, “not busy.”

“That’s good to hear,” he nods, getting in as well and fastening his seatbelt, putting the car into reverse and slowly driving out of the parking lot. The radio is turned off at this hour– a thing that rarely happens in Yuta’s car, because he always has to have music playing in the background of his life– and the silence envelopes you in an intimate, comforting atmosphere.

Hence, why you ask the crucial question that’s been bugging you the whole night. “What did you want to talk about earlier?” you mumble, the tone of your voice light and coated with tiredness. You’ve been up the whole day, since you have classes in the mornings, but now that you know there’s something Yuta’s been keeping away from you, you know you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep even if you tried, overthinking making your mind too busy to lull you into the dreamland.

“Are you up for a drive? I’ll tell you and then drop you off at dorms,” he asks, eyes locking with yours for a split second before he focuses back on the road.

Humming, you agree with his idea. You give him some time while he takes the turn that goes out of the city and towards the ring road, tracing his actions with your hazy, half-asleep eyes. The car takes a steady speed, one that’s neither alarming nor too slow, and Yuta’s palm easily takes a hold of your thigh, the steering wheel now being operated with only one of his arms. The affectionate action makes you feel heat in the tips of your ears and on the highest parts of your cheekbones, gaze shifting away from the male next to you towards the empty road. Everything about the things you’ve been dreaming about– the subtle touches, the glances, the pet names– makes you shy away from the man. It’s not that you don’t enjoy it, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t, but still– the novelty of it all still surprises you, keeps you on your feet.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit before proceeding, “you know how I told you we now practice more often than we used to?” he asks, eyes peering at you with expectation, waiting for you to answer. You offer him a tired hum, too sleepy to really master up anything else, and when it reaches his ears, he takes it as his lead to continue.

“Well, it was for a reason… at our last gig, there were some scouting people, or whatever you call it… and I didn’t tell you before, because it wasn’t certain and I also don’t really know how these things go– y’know, that’s Doyoung’s thing, sorta– and I also didn’t wanna sound silly if things didn’t work out,” he explains, deep voice resonating through the low hum of the engine, keeping you awake, “but things did work out and we got signed to a label.”

Yuta gives you a minute to process the information. He doesn’t say anything for a bit, only waiting for you to reply back to him– to react, in any way, really– and when he doesn’t get any words out of you, he looks at you with a look so fragilely expecting that you almost want to coo at the male and hold him in your arms, tell him you’re just as excited as he is, because it’s the truth, and you are; you just can’t really find the right words to express so right now.

“Wow,” you heave out, half-lidded, something warm and proud bundling up in the depths of your chest, “that’s- that’s awesome,” you mumble, watching as the male next to you visibly relaxes at your response.

“Yeah,” he nods, suddenly more energetic than before, and you chuckle at the realization of just how important your opinion was for him– even though it shouldn’t be, really. It’s always been his dream, and what you think of the matter shouldn’t be any of his concern. “So they heard us play and listened to our songs and stuff, and they said we can record an album somewhere towards the end of the year, but they said we gotta promote ourselves a bit first, so…” he freezes a little, chewing on the bottom of his lip.

Suddenly, he seems nervous again. It’s a strange sight– you don’t often see Nakamoto Yuta so worried about the opinion of other people. You don’t often have the privilege to see the singer so open and so vulnerable, so easy to break. It only happens with stuff important to him, you think– the band is always his priority, and you’re more than happy that he’s finally getting the recognition he deserves and strives for. Hand slowly reaching for the one that’s resting on your thigh, you interlock your fingers with him and squeeze his palm in a reassuring manner, as if to tell him that he doesn’t have to be afraid, that you’re his biggest supporter, that you’re always here for all the news– good or bad.

“So…?” you prob him.

“So,” he clears his throat, smiling at you when he gets reassured, “we’re going to tour this one festival. It’s only for a couple of weeks, and it’s around the country, so we don’t have to fly out and all, but… I’ll be out of the city for a while, is what I’m saying.”

The confession makes your stomach churn in fear. Suddenly, you’re painfully aware of Yuta’s worry about talking to you about the topic. Somehow, you understand him completely. Ever since you met Yuta, you haven’t gone more than three days without seeing each other. You two are like puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, always searching for the other pair when it’s not in its place by your side. Your relationship is very fresh, very new, and although you know your bond is stronger than the distance, you can’t help but feel a bit of worry in the tips of your fingertips, in the pit of your stomach. And also, there’s this silly feeling– small, but yet so overbearing– that comes with the image of not being close to Yuta for weeks, of not being able to see him every day and find the light in his eyes to get you through the week. There’s this silly feeling of missing him, of yearning for him to be there with you every minute and every second of the day, and hell, sometimes you miss him even when he’s away for a day, and you don’t know what you’ll do if it’s gonna be weeks, a big, nasty thought that’s both unreal and too realistic prickling your brain– how will you even survive when he’s not by your side? Without Yuta, you’re nothing. No one.

Still, you’re not about to ruin this for him. You’re not about to act sad, or act disappointed, because you’re not, at the end of the day. At the end of it all, you’re aware that this has always been his dream. You are happy for him– you’re ecstatic. And that’s exactly how you’re gonna react.

“That’s awesome, Yuta,” you muse, and you’re glad the tone of your voice stays genuine, “that’s big news. I’m so happy for you,” you say, seeing as the male next to you breaks out into a boyish grin, excitement spreading into every inch of his body, fingers tugging at yours to bring your interlocked hands into his lap.

“It’s gonna be over soon and then I’m right back by your side,” he hums, and you shake your head at him.

“I’ll wait however long it takes,” you disagree with his statement, “don’t you worry. I’m gonna cheer for you every night.”

The road in front of you signals a turn back into the city, Yuta’s car naturally and smoothly driving back towards the center of life. You subtly hear your partner talk excitedly about all his dreams and all the visions he has of the festival tour– how he’s going to have the time of his life, how the boys will make it big, how he can’t wait to show everyone what they’re made of– and although you’re happy and content, the buzzing excitement of his voice does nothing to keep you awake in the late hour. You feel a peck pressed to the back of your hand, your sleep-filled eyes meeting with his, when he shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“We’re almost at yours now,” he hums, “I’ll wake you up in front of the building.”

Smiling, you nod. Somehow, you drift off with thoughts of full crowds cheering for Yuta, with thoughts wishing for him to make it just as big as he’s always dreamt of. You battle your own worries away, telling them you’re silly for thinking that things will change between the two of you when he’s away, writing them off to be your own unreasonable anxieties.

Things won’t change, you repeat to yourself, and if so, only for the better.

III. a little bit of California with a little bit of London sky

Life has stilled into a pleasant, comfortable routine for the two of you. You admired just how easily Yuta fit into your daily schedule, just how easily he managed to get used to the cycle of your days, and the knowledge makes you that much sadder to let him go. You go to class from Monday to Friday, snatching mostly the morning ones this semester, which is a thing you’ve grown to be appreciative of, since it means you have time off in the afternoon for your shifts and hanging out with Yuta. On Friday evenings, you take the night shift and have your boyfriend drive you back to dorms when you’re off, and on Sundays, you and Yuta go out to eat in your favorite sushi restaurant downtown as he talks to you about the events of the whole week. He talks your ear off with his excitement, sometimes not even giving you a chance to speak yourself– which he apologizes for on most days, and you’re not mad at him, because truly, you understand– telling you about how practice is going and how their new manager, a thing they haven’t had before, is keeping everything in check for when the festival tour happens.

You went to listen to them practice one more time. You don’t really dare to go close to the garage anymore, since Doyoung has not grown warmer to your presence, but you still enjoyed yourself as you realized that their mutual passion only made them perform better.

And with days going by slowly like this, you almost don’t notice when it’s time for Yuta to leave, and suddenly, you’re standing in the crowd of the first show of their first festival tour– the thing that’s supposedly going to make their career take off– as they play songs you know like the back of your hand by now for thousands of people around you in your hometown. Something about the first stop of the tour being your hometown made you feel a bit unsettled– isn’t it always the other way around? Aren’t you supposed to reunite with your lover while he plays his last show back home? But then you realize that it’s a festival, and not their own tour– they aren’t as big to have one themselves yet– and you’re understanding of the logistics. They can’t all play the last show in their hometown.

You brought your roommate Aeri along with you to the show, both of your outfits matching in shades of black and red as you make your way towards the front row, making sure you have good enough of a view to see your boyfriend on the stage. There’s a nervous pep in your step when you wait for the band to arrive, the knowledge that your roommate has never seen Yuta before; you wonder if this is how he felt when he was introducing you to his bandmates all those weeks before, and if so, why he didn’t tell you about it.

Murmurs of the people in the crowd fill your ears, and you watch them with a horrifying realization that you don’t seem like you belong here– so out of the general aesthetic of the crowd, making you feel not cool enough, not punk enough, not good enough to be by the side of someone like Yuta– but before you get a chance to really vocalize your thoughts, there’s a sound of a drum coming from the front of the stage that makes you turn your head forward, watching as Mark grins at the crowd with something you’d call a nervous, yet excited smile, starting off their gig with an up-beat song.

“They’re kinda good!” you hear Aeri scream into your ear, and something about the compliment makes you relax. This is a good thing, you think– she doesn’t hate it, which means she probably won’t hate the members of the band themselves either.

Once Yuta walks on the stage with his guitar slung over his neck, playing the chords you’d be able to name by memory– having your boyfriend repeat them to himself for a few good minutes once when you came over to his house and he was practicing the song by himself– and even though you wouldn’t be able to play it, you’re sure you’d recognize this song even if you were woken up in the middle of the night, slightly sleepy and still out of it. The crowd cheers, and you find yourself smiling in a sense of euphoria.

Jumping around with the rest of the population, you get lost in the music. Their set plays out for a good hour and a half, combining cover songs and their own originals, the sun setting with the sound of their eclectic guitars. There’s always something about concerts that makes you lost in time, not really register the way it flows by and leaves you unknowing in the spiral. You didn’t even realize it– you don’t think you even fully registered the experience of seeing Yuta play live on a stage for the first time– and it’s over and you’re catching your breath, feeling your ears ring from the noise that’s been there for the last hour or so and now isn’t, everything around you muffled and a little bit hazy.

“Let’s go, we gotta catch them in the back,” you hurriedly mumble into Aeri’s ear, the girl following you with excited steps as you drag her around the crowded space. Yuta told you he is leaving as soon as the festival ends so their van can drive over to the next city as soon as possible, and since they were the second to last to go on, you feel a threatening bubble growing in your chest.

There’s a group of girls waving at the band leaving off stage, and you pray that you can somehow catch Yuta before he has to walk over to their van.

You catch a glimpse of the platinum white bangs when you jump around and try to see them, and as your eyes meet, the singer breaks out into a smile before he turns towards the rest of the band, waving at them and telling them that they can go and that he’ll find his way back in a bit. The gesture warms your heart, a sense of relief settling onto your shoulders.

“You were amazing!” you holler as you get towards the metal gate that keeps the artists away from the crowd, your body getting into contact with the cold material as you throw your hands around your boyfriend’s neck, grasping him harder than ever before. His arms reach around your waist, squeezing out all of the air in your lungs, as a laugh bubbles out of his chest and makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“I was singing the songs for you, babygirl,” he hums into your ear, heat rising to your cheeks at the sentiment. When you pull away visibly flustered, Yuta laughs at your face, making you swat his arm in an act of playfulness. “You must be Aeri!” the man notices your roommate tagging along, smiling at her with his welcoming, warm smile.

The girl nods at him, greeting him almost a little too politely. “Yeah! I heard a lot about you, so I’m glad Y/N wasn’t lying, y’know,” she giggles, and you roll your eyes.

“See, I would never lie to you,” you snicker, and as you put your arm on the metal gate to steady yourself, you feel warmth cover it as Yuta’s own palm envelopes it in a sweet gesture that still surprises you whenever it so effortlessly happens, but also puts you at ease all in one minute.

“I liked the drummer,” Aeri muses, making Yuta laugh at her.

“I’ll let him know,” he salutes, and with that, he turns back to you with wide eyes, a thousand glimmering stars behind them making you admire just how beautiful and full of life the man in front of you suddenly looks. It tugs at your heartstrings– it’s only the first show and it’s already gone so well, he was born for this, you think, and even though it’s difficult, you suddenly feel like letting him go will be so much easier after the sight, because you’ll be doing it with the knowledge that it’s the best possible thing for him, something you would never be able to give to him if he was stuck with you back home.

“It went exactly how we wanted it to go, it was- it was so great,” he sighs, the crowd behind you suddenly disappearing and grouping around the front of the stage again, signaling that the next band is about to play and finish off tonight’s stop, “thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, you know,” you shrug, gazing into his eyes. There’s a lot of noise around you– the sound of the people talking and cheering behind your back, the beat of the drums, the shuffling of feet– yet, you feel like in this moment, everything else tuned out, everything around you disappeared for a second and left only you and Yuta in the big place, eyes and hearts for each other.

“I’m gonna–”

“Don’t say it,” you hush him, chewing on the inside of your cheek in nerves. You don’t want to hear it– you don’t want to hear him say it, because then, it would make it feel more real, more raw. You wanted to name the sensation when it comes to you, not have it in your brain before you even get a chance to get it, but Yuta shakes his head at you and sighs.

“I have to say it.”

“No, you don’t,” you giggle, amidst a little sadly.

“I do,” he nods, “because it’s true. And you deserve to hear it face to face, not over the phone,” he says, and you heave out a sigh at his words.

“Fine,” you grant him permission. Get it over with.

He shakes his head at you in disbelief, his hair bouncing in the motion. It makes you want to reach over and brush back the damp locks, put the wet strands into their place, but you don’t– and why you stop yourself is a question you don’t get to ask. “I’m gonna miss you,” he completes, and you nod.

Tears prickle at the edges of your eyes, and you promised yourself you’re not going to cry when Yuta goes– something about it feeling childish, too overly dramatic for a fact that he’s gonna be away only for a couple of weeks– and that’s exactly why you didn’t want him to say it, why you didn’t want to hear the words before he’s miles away and talking to you through the phone, because crying seems foolish in this moment. It seems stupid, dumb, dramatic, because tonight’s a good night– one that should be celebrated– and you feel like you’re ruining it.

“I’m gonna miss you more,” you muse, choking through the tears, battling away the heat in the corners of your eyes and begging that no tears actually fall down your cheeks– you could handle tearing up, but crying was a bit too much– but when the man softly scoffs at your state and brings you towards his chest, you feel them escape and fall freely, wetting his sweaty shirt more as you hold him closer, trying to hide into his body.

Who knows? Maybe if you hug him hard enough, you’ll be able to fit into his skin so he could bring you with him. Maybe you won’t have to be apart.

“Don’t cry, you dummy,” he sighs as you push yourself away from him, trying to laugh through the pain that’s hitting you in your gut right now, praying hard you can ease the situation, “I’ll be back in no time,” he says, wiping at your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs– one of the only fingers that aren’t calloused with the force he plays on the guitar– the action so tender you swallow in on yourself.

His voice is as soft as it can get over the loud music, and you nod at him, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth so you can stop it from trembling. “Come here,” he hums, tugging you into him once more, but before you get a chance to hide your face into his chest, the male leans towards you and kisses you on your lips, a firm, sweet contact with the chapped surface.

When you pull away, he goes in for another, a starved man wanting more, and you try to remember the imprint of his lips on yours so you don’t miss it on lonely nights, so you can remind yourself of it whenever he’s away.

There’s an arm on his shoulder when you pull away from him, a tall figure tugging him backwards, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you recognise Doyoung telling your boyfriend that it’s time to go, we gotta get on the road soon, and you’re left aimless and lost in the crowd, the hollowing feeling in your stomach only deepening once Yuta nods at his bandmate and turns to you again, smiling.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, hating the fact that you can barely see him over the tears, but not really caring enough to try to stop them now.

“I will,” he reassures you, hand coming up to your hair to pet it, a soft laugh escaping his throat. “I gotta go now, baby.”

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay,” he repeats, taking a few steps back from you. You watch him, his figure skipping away from you, when he turns and hollers over the loud set. “Love you!”

You don’t get a chance to react before he disappears out of your sight. You don't even get a chance to say it back after hearing it from him for the first time, and something about the fact brings countless worries to your chest. Still, you chant to yourself– nothing’s gonna change. And if so, only for the better.

IV. no matter where you go, somebody follows

Navigating through the foreign city with the hood pulled over your head, the plastic bag full of take-out hanging loosely from your hold, you squint at the buildings around you and sigh in relief with the recognition of your surroundings– you didn’t get lost, despite your biggest concerns, and you’re at the parking lot behind the venue, multiple buses parked right in front of you. Jogging through the space, your sneakers hitting the pavement in a sound you find satisfactory and calming to your nerves, you reach one of the older buses parked in the corner of the parking lot, the windows dark and the vehicle painted in a chipping, rusty white color. Still, it’s a tour bus– an upgrade from what Yuta and his band departed in from your hometown just three weeks ago– and you feel a sense of pride swell inside of your chest at the sight.

Yuta’s band has been growing successfully and steadily– just like his new manager thought would happen. Their songs are catchy, their fanbase is growing in amount, their exposure is getting bigger on social media and some of their songs even play on the radio. Sure, you wouldn’t call them radio hits– it’s not like your parents or your professors would recognize the band or know the lyrics if you showed them the tune– but it’s still something, and even that something feels tremendously big in your eyes.

The decision of skipping school for a few days and coming up to visit Yuta on his tour was spontaneous. It came to you after you missed him particularly much one night, going to sleep without his call– he apologized a day later, telling you he’d been too busy to talk– and after you counted up the money you saved up from working at the diner, you realized you can afford going on a little getaway to meet up with your lover. Yuta was delighted to hear about your plan and even got you a free ticket to the festival, and after watching him and his band play, you decided to get McDonald’s as a form of a late night snack.

You expected your boyfriend to follow you, but he didn’t. It was okay, though– he was probably tired. Traveling both gives and takes a lot from you, and while Yuta was given a thousand opportunities over the past few days, his energy has been slowly receding. You understand– as his girlfriend, it’s your job to.

Knocking on the door of the bus– and hearing the ruckus coming from the inside, making you gaze at the darkened windows in suspicion– you get inside after the driver opens the door for you and nods at you in acknowledgement. The tour bus is kind of old, again– Yuta isn’t at a point in his career yet where he could afford the latest gadgets– but although the lights aren’t neon and the space isn’t big and modern, it still serves its purpose. It has a functioning bathroom in the front, with a surprisingly working lock on the door, and it also has a kitchen area that’s big enough to host a couple of people behind the efficiently placed table. The bus has a corridor with bunk beds on the sides and a small bedroom in the very back of it all, which is used by their manager Sangyeon.

Usually, the bus stinks a bit. You don’t really know what it is, but you can’t really get the bad smell out no matter how hard you try. Now, though, the bus stinks even worse– and although the smell is a tad bit different than the one you’re used to (even though you’ve only been here for 2 days, with the next day being the morning of your departure back home, to your ordinary life), you can’t quite put your finger on the cause.

You walk over to the kitchen area, the plastic bag full of food still loosely placed in your grasp, and the noise gets even louder now, the laughter and the loud music over the speakers mixing together in a way that has your head pounding similarly than to what you experience when you stand front-row during the festivals, and when you put your head through the entry to the small area, the sight in front of you has you gasping. There’s a bit more people in the tour bus than you’d expect– you mentally count the heads, realizing there are four unfamiliar faces in the small crowd– and that’s what initially makes you shy away and want to hide. See, your experience with Yuta’s band mates wasn’t the brightest– that’s why meeting another potential friend group of your boyfriend has you shrinking away in worry.

“You’re back already?” Mark asks you, your presence noticed by the man first. You nod at him, offering him a tight-lipped smile as you hold up the plastic bag in the air, showing him its contents. He smiles at you, but doesn’t pay you much attention after, instead focusing back on the commotion in front of him.

Disappointment washes over you when you realize your presence hasn’t been acknowledged by your boyfriend– mainly because everyone else at least offered you a nonchalant nod of a head, Doyoung included– and that’s when you sigh to yourself and move closer to the small table, ready to put the food in the middle and try to join the conversation. You’re taken by surprise when you realize it’s harder to find an empty space on the crowded surface, bottles of beer, shot glasses and a bottle of tequila settled all around, a potato chip bag thrown in the corner, almost falling off. An ashtray in the middle of it all, almost full to the brim, something white and messy lined up on the other side of the table, folded arms falling to the surface with a loud thud that have you snap your head around and watch Yuta as he settles his chin on them and closes his eyes and then slowly opens them in a hazy blink, pupils almost as big as his whole iris.

This has you stopping in your tracks, this has you slightly wake up in a cold sweat, making you too aware and alert of the situation.

Your eyes scan the surroundings again. The four men at the table seem a bit older than your boyfriend, and you’re sure you saw them on stage a few hours ago, playing their own set. The bottles of alcohol are almost empty, the ashtray filled with cigarettes, your gaze finding the source of the weird, sweet, yet earthy smell when you see a bag of dried weeds loosely thrown behind a beer bottle, rolling papers settled on the side. Finding the platinum blonde head again, the line of white substance close to Yuta’s elbow, chills run down your spine when the male looks at you with big eyes, his smile slightly out of it, yet amazingly satisfied.

Suddenly, you’re terrified. You’re scared and afraid, and you wonder how things could have gotten so out of hand in the time you were gone. Surely your trip to McDonald’s didn’t take more than a few minutes, or did it?

“What’s all this?” you ask Yuta, your voice hush, yet loud enough to be heard over the music.

“What?” he asks, voice coated in a blissful sweetness that has your hair stand up, goosebumps rising all over your body. Frustrated, you run your hand through your hair, seeing that your interaction doesn’t have many viewers comforting you only the slightest.

“What’s all this, Yuta?” you ask, pointing everywhere around the place, but mainly to the substances found on the small, dark-wooden table.

“We’re just having fun, baby,” he says lazily, grinning at you from under his eyelashes. Were the circumstances given to you different, you’d admire his features– his flushed cheeks and his strangely starry-glazed eyes, the satisfied and comfortable smirk playing with his flush lips. But now, you feel shaken-up; a strange kind of terror you’ve never experienced before, and frankly speaking, one you wouldn’t imagine experiencing even in your worst nightmares.

“This is fun to you?” you ask, scoffing. “Is- what happened here?” you keep dumbly asking, not finding any more coherent thoughts in your brain that could be expressed by words. Somehow, the whole situation is painted right in front of you, yet, you don’t think you have it in you to describe it or admit it to your brain.

“Why are you freaking out?” he asks, reaching out one of his hands to you to hold your hand, but you shake it off with a different sense of vigor.

Why are you freaking out? Is he out of his mind? Does he not understand the consequences of his actions; the full implications of everything that’s going on right in this moment? Are you overreacting? You find it hard to think that’s the case.

You scoff at him, not really believing you’re in this situation right now. Something in you feels a bit shameful to be acting like this, now that you’ve been called out on it. You’re in a battle of opinions– one side telling you to drop it and let him live his life, because he’s an adult and he knows what he’s doing, the other one shouting at you that this is not okay and you need some space to breathe and get away for a second. Yuta said he was having fun, but to you, none of this was even close to funny.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, moving away from him and sending him a gaze you hope signifies the turmoil of emotions on your insides right now, your hands shaking as you cross your arms on your chest. You’re not met with the desired reaction, though. Somehow, Yuta makes the matters even worse as he scoffs at you, shaking his head and pointing it towards the group as he mutters something under his breath.

“And you’re being unreasonable.”

The argument makes your blood cold, your eyes widen. You’re being unreasonable? In your eyes, you’re being ignored. You’re being put on the very end of the ranking of his priorities, and you’d understand it if the first one was held up by his career, his dreams– you’re not willing to battle for that place with alcohol and drugs, though. You’re simply not.

Storming out of the area, suddenly feeling like there’s no air in your lungs, no oxygen in the whole planet Earth, you run through the small and crowded place, making eye contact with no one as you run out without a plan. You bump into a slender figure as you plan on escaping the vehicle, right in the place where the stairs down are located, crossing your paths– one going in and the other one out. The person smells of cigarette smoke and when you look up to find a raven-haired boy staring at you with a glare, the plan of leaving sounds even more urgent in your head.

“Where are you running off to?” Doyoung asks, voice laced with indifference.

“I don’t want to talk right now,” you snap at him, trying to push through the small corridor past him so you can get out and get some air.

“Saw something you didn’t like?” he mocks, laughing at you.

“Doyoung-”

“Those places aren’t for college kids like you, Y/N,” he snarls, huffing out air as you push against his chest to get him out of the way, “this is how this world works. Get out before it gets you too, kid.”

V. you're the only one I'll miss when I'm gone

The coldness of the liquid spilling down your throat makes you cool down noticeably, your fingers working on the lace around your waist to loosen up the apron you’ve been wearing for the last couple of hours. You sit on one of the tall bar stools, facing the diner with your back, as you scroll through your phone and look through all your social media. You’re working another one of your night shifts, the diner surprisingly empty as you allow yourself some time to just sit around and do nothing– it’s not like you have anything else to do or any customers to serve in the first place.

Checking your messages– and finding none, much to your dismay– you move over to other apps, opening up Instagram with a swift tap of your finger, eyes tracing the posts appearing on your phone screen. There are some from your favorite music artists and some from your friends from high school, and you’d usually find an Instagram story from your boyfriend’s band right at the very beginning of the little reel on the top as well, but ever since they got signed to a label, their page is hands of their manager Sangyeon, so the account is no longer as active and as unserious as it was when Yuta was the one behind the posts.

Scrolling down a little, your eyes zero in on a post of the mentioned account– a carousel of professionally-looking pictures of the band on the stage, taken from multiple angles and in perfect quality, colors most likely edited and lightning adjusted so they look as nice as they can. You were in the crowd just a week ago, and although you only left your visit recently, you already miss seeing Yuta in real life, playing and talking to you, existing by your side.

You haven’t heard from him much since the day you left. Still shaken up from the sight in front of you that one night, the band’s manager let you sleep in the only bedroom of the tour bus before you took off to the station in the early morning, having Yuta groggily press a kiss to your forehead as a goodbye, telling you to stay safe as you travel, before he went back to sleep. The events of your last night with him went unnoticed and unmentioned and you’re not exactly sure if it’s for the best– you two barely call nowadays, since your schedules don’t align, and it’s kind of hard to talk about it over a text, especially when the conversations are short and dry, like they’ve been for the last few days.

Zooming in on the picture, fingers pinching the screen to take a closer look on Yuta’s face, you chew on the inside of your cheek, letting your thoughts run a thousand miles an hour. What did you do wrong? Or was he just busy?

That must be it. He’s in a band. A touring, rising band. He must be busy.

“What are you staring at?” you hear a male voice coming from your right, making you jump in your seat. Eyes landing on Jaechan, your coworker from the kitchen, you watch as he throws a damp kitchen towel to the counter and takes a seat on the chair next to you with a sigh. You shrug. The male takes a peek over your shoulder, craning up his neck to get a closer look, a hum escaping his throat at the sight. “Is that your boyfriend? I heard he’s in a band.”

You find yourself humming in agreement at his question. Jaechan nods at you in acknowledgement, resting his head into his palms, eyes zeroing on your stoic face. “Did something happen between the two of you? You don’t sound too happy talking about him right now.”

Sighing, you put the phone down, the screen still on and displaying the professional picture their photographer took, showing Yuta with his platinum blonde hair damp and all over the place, the singer in the middle of a song gripping his microphone tightly, veins protruding due to the notes he’s singing on his sweat-covered neck. Once again, you find yourself shrugging. “I don’t know. He’s just… not really talking to me?”

“Did you two have a fight?”

“No,” you shake your head, “not really. It’s not like he’s not talking talking to me, it’s just that he’s not doing it as often as he used to before,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip as you tear your eyes off the picture and glue them to your companion instead, seeing as the older male hums, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“He must be busy,” you say, not really knowing who you’re saying this for. Is it to prove to Jaechan that your relationship is completely fine, that there’s nothing shifting in the dynamic you had with Yuta, or is it to reassure yourself, try to manifest the thought into life? You’re not quite sure at this point.

“Well, he texted you a lot more often before,” he points out, “how busy can a singer really be, you know what I mean?”

“There must be something that’s taking up so much of his time,” you sigh, the male in front of you scoffing and rolling his eyes at your naivety.

Jaechan argues with you, and something about his sentence makes your mood even gloomier, your composure shake further. “I mean, what does a singer even do? He plays a gig in the evening and then he’s lazing off the whole day, it’s not like he’s recording an album or something, do you feel me?”

To this, you shrug. What does Jaechan even know about this? He’s never dated anyone in a band before. He’s never been in one either, so he can’t know how this life works. Maybe he’s just jealous that your significant other is famous and his is not (because it’s non-existent, just for the record), and that’s what’s making him say all these things.

“What do you know?” you scoff.

Jaechan looks at you with a softer look in his eyes now, the black bangs falling into his forehead serving as a sort of a curtain when he smiles sadly at his next words. “Enough to see when a guy gets bored, Y/N. If he had time before, he just can’t be assed now. I’d hate to see your heart break over him,” he says, each word like a sharp knife to your heart, a stinging pain erupting into each crevice of your body. Your mouth opens to reply to him, to argue that he is clueless, he is snide, he is acting like a know-it-all, when the bell above the entrance rings and a small group of teenagers enters the diner.

Before you get a chance to stand up from your place to re-tie your apron and serve them, Jaechan, who doesn’t usually serve– since cooking is his job around here– beats you to it and pats your shoulder as he goes. “I’ll get it.”

You’re left sitting at the bar, eyes bearing into the screen of your phone, gazing at Yuta on the other side of the country, almost begging him with your eyes to text, to call, to do something, before the screen darkens and your phone eventually locks, the time running out already.

VI. and he holds me like a woman

Prepared for another night of staring at the ceiling, not even the sound of Aeri’s snoring present to lull you to sleep with its monotonicity, since the girl went out and stayed over at her (as she calls him) sneaky link’s place, you settle into your bed sheets and pull your blanket close to your neck. Unlocking your phone and scrolling through social media, planning to do so until your eyes are droopy enough that you don’t have much time to overthink in the late hours of the night, waiting for sleep to take you, your finger moves through all the different apps, begging for your brain to stay occupied. You have to treat yourself like you’d treat a little child while trying to get them to sleep– except you don’t watch Cocomelon, instead you settle on the latest episode of your favorite podcast– and it starts working eventually, until you’re woken up with a knock to your door, cursing at the person behind the wall for disturbing your routine, because now, you’ll have to do it all over again.

Sighing, you stand up from your bed, lazily walking over to the door of your room– sometimes, you despise the fact that your dorm layout looks like the corridor of a hospital wing, with rooms all over the hall and a common kitchen and a bathroom at the very end, since the living space for you and your roommate Aeri is a 5x6 square meters with little to no storage room– but this time, you thank the god for this fact, since it means that nothing is too far out of reach and nothing can get lost in the small space. You think of whoever might be behind the door– is it Aeri? You doubt it’s Aeri. She usually doesn’t back out of a hook up, and even if she did, she’d text you about it before– she has her own set of keys as well, so she wouldn’t just knock.

Is it your dorm mate? Yeji from three rooms down the corridor sometimes comes over and asks you if she can use your frying pan– since the ones in the common kitchen suck and are hardly ever clean– so maybe it’s her. However, you’re not quite sure why she’d want to cook something so late in the evening.

Shrugging, deciding that you’re not gonna dwell on the thought much longer and instead look for yourself, you unlock the door (you learned to do that every night after Ningning, the freshman that lives across the corridor from you, once stumbled into your room at 3 in the morning, drunk out of her mind, because she confused her left and right) and crack it open, shock overtaking you as you recognize the figure casually standing on the other side of the wall.

“What are you doing here?” you gasp, the man with platinum blonde hair snickering at your parted lips and big eyes.

“Visiting,” he shrugs, “I missed you.”

Taking a few seconds to process the situation, you stay standing in your place, a metaphorical loading bar appearing in the middle of your forehead. Yuta shakes his head at you in disbelief, taking a step closer towards you. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

“I- I am, but-” you stutter, taking a step away from the doorway, watching as your boyfriend walks in as if he owned this place, “who let you in? We can’t have visitors after 10 PM,” you mumble, suddenly aware of the fact that you could get in trouble.

You close the door after yourself and lock it– old habits die hard– as you watch the male giggle at your shaken composure. “The doorkeeper recognized me,” he announces, “I just had to say I have a girlfriend I haven’t seen in a while living here and he let me right in,” he shrugs.

Humming, you play with your fingers as you walk over to your bed. “So you’re like, famous famous now, huh?”

“Not that famous,” he sighs, “but quite a few people know me now.”

“So I’m dating a rockstar,” you joke, taking a seat on the uncomfortable mattress, watching as the male follows you and invites himself into the sheets.

“Something like that.”

A smile overtakes your features at that, and your room breaks into silence. Something about the quiet makes your skin scatter with goosebumps, the discomfort of his stare making you almost hate the fact that he’s here now, after not talking to you properly for a couple of weeks, but at the same time, you know you don’t really hate it. You love it, actually– the fact that he came to surprise you in the middle of the night, the fact that he’s here, the fact that he thought of you, spared you the time of his day. You love it and you love him and the fact that he came back to you. He came back for you. Only you. That sounds like a prize, doesn’t it?

Still, you feel a bit of a distance in between the two of you, and you can’t believe the fact that he feels further despite being closer in space. Maybe it’s because you can’t blame his lack of words for him being busy now– he’s right in front of you, paying you his full attention.

“How long are you staying?” you ask, picking at the skin of your cuticles.

Yuta averts his gaze from you, looking almost shameful at his reply. “I have to leave tomorrow afternoon,” he whispers, “I left suddenly, but we gotta get back on the road.”

You hum at that, not offering him a vocal reply– you don’t have any words to say to him anyway. What is there to say about a fact you can’t change? You only have to accept it.

“We only have a couple more stops to go. It will take another three weeks or so, and I’m back with you,” he says, this time locking his eyes with you in a sincere gaze, “I promise.”

The sentence has you gazing at your hands, clasped in your lap, nodding. Holding eye contact with him is suddenly hard when you feel just how far away he is from you, in another world, in other circles– and you can’t help but not see yourself fitting those, you can’t help but hate the fact that you’re so far away from everything that completes him as a person now. Maybe you’re a burden now– maybe you’re a nuisance, a baggage he has to carry even though he doesn’t have to, but keeps holding on to just because of a promise.

You remember how you chanted to yourself– believed– that nothing’s gonna change, and if so, only for the better. But you’re not so sure it came true, looking at everything now. And you do admit, you feel a little silly. Both for making the promise to yourself, and both for feeling so defeated when your world is shifting. Because things did change, and you should’ve expected it, and for Yuta, they did change for the better. He’s chasing his dream and everything’s coming out well for him. You should be happy.

You should be happy that he’s texting you less, talking to you less, having less time for you. Because that’s proof of him succeeding, after all. You just wish you could’ve been there to witness it with him.

“It must be so hard for you,” Yuta suddenly hums, leaning closer to you and wiping your cheeks. You haven’t even realized you were crying– you failed to keep your emotions in control– but instead of pushing him away and not showing him just how much the distance hurts you, you only hold him closer, crying into his chest.

His hands caress your hair, smoothing down the strands and providing you comfort, your body folding into his hold. He lays you both on the bed and tugs the blanket over you, strong arms shielding you from the pain. “Are you- are you having fun at least?” you ask, hiccuping through the sobs.

“I am,” he hums, and something about the sentence comforts you, making you fail to address everything you’ve witnessed when you came to visit him and just how much it made you worry, “wish you were there with me, but I know it’s hard. We just gotta hold on and get through this, and it will only get easier as we go, alright?”

You hum, fists bunching up the fabric of his thin black shirt. “Promise me to hold on for me, pretty girl? It’s gonna be okay. I swear.”

Another silent sob accompanied by an eager nod, hands letting go of his shirt and instead sneaking around his waist, nose burying into his chest intaking his scent. “I promise. It’s hard, but the thought of you having fun and chasing your dream comforts me.”

“That’s my sweet girl,” he hums, smoothing down your hair, “now stop crying. There’s nothing to be sad about.”

Nodding, you try your best to relax. He’s right– you were being unreasonable. Silly, even. Everything’s okay and everything will turn out just fine, you just gotta hold on for a few more weeks. Once Yuta’s back, your relationship will go back to normal and things will get better.

Leaning your head back, you press a kiss to his lips. He holds you to his chest, deepening the contact of his mouth with yours, wiping the last tears off your cheeks and placing pecks all over your face. When his lips find their way back to yours, his kisses are deeper, more firm, experience making him smoothly slip his tongue into your mouth to battle with yours, passion dripping off the muscle and tasting just like honey.

He makes your heart race, just like he did when he first kissed you in his garage, and when his lips smoothly travel down your neck, placing bites and kitten licks to smooth the area after, you let him work his magic. You relax under his touches, you let him unravel you from your clothes, big hands testing flesh, calloused fingers pressing into all the right places. It feels amazing. It feels rewarding– and even though you’ve never done this before, you’re glad he’s your first. It’s good to look back at your first time when it’s done with someone you love– someone that’s admired, older, but still so fond of you. You feel beautiful with his hushed compliments, whispered promises. It’s like you’re running on a high, and you’re not sure if and when you’re ever gonna get back down.

You ache a little when you wake up for your morning class the day after. Throwing on his shirt you find on the floor, taking a seat next to him on the bed and brushing back his disheveled hair, his arm finds yours and tugs you back towards him.

“Stay,” he hums.

“I can’t,” you reply, “I have class in a few,” you explain, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

He sighs, dissatisfied, but lets you go. When he chants a goodbye at you as you close your door after with the knowledge that he won’t be there when you come home in the evening, you chew on the inside of your cheek with the crushing feeling of living in a different world than he does. And it shouldn’t matter to you– because he loves you and showed you so last night– but still, it keeps annoyingly eating you up from the insides.

He’s in a rising punk band, and you… you have to get to class.

VII. he used to sing me sweet melodies

The news hit you on a Thursday afternoon, on your way to dorms after your last class of the day. You feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, and so you decide to take the bus– the journey isn’t long, but you don’t feel like walking, and so you slung your pained body onto one of the free seats after pressing your travel card against the terminal to pay for the ride.

Fingers searching through your tote bag, a small sense of victory filling your veins when you finally find your phone in the mess of things, you grip the device and unlock it, deciding to search through social media to pass time and let yourself dissociate.

A flood of uninteresting posts flashes through your vision as you absent-mindedly scroll through your feed, unfunny memes making you roll your eyes at the absurdity of the jokes, political discourse just making you sigh. After a while, posts from Neo zone update pages that you selfishly and amidst a little foolishly followed quite some time ago start appearing one-by-one on your Twitter feed, the face of your boyfriend smiling at you from fan-taken pictures from the last few stops of their festival tour. It’s been three weeks since you last saw Yuta, and even though you’re glad he’s enjoying his life to the fullest, you can’t help but admit to yourself that you oh so desire to have him back home as soon as possible.

One post in particular makes you stop in your tracks, furrowing your eyebrows as your eyes scan over the headline of an article with your boyfriend’s face clearly staring down at you through the screen. It’s not often that Yuta or his band get interviewed– or at least, it wasn’t the standard before, but you heard from him that he did get an interview from one of the local newspapers right after he got signed to an agency– but it seems that after getting interest from the punk scene during the festival, everybody wants to know more about the lead singer and his friends; press included. The existence of the interview itself isn’t what makes you so startled, though– it’s the headline of the article, each word like a sharp knife to your heart, making you more and more confused.

“No, I’m not dating anyone right now.” Neo Zone’s frontman reveals in our latest article, the title reads, your shaky fingers pressing down on the picture to have the text pop up, making you brace yourself for the impact. You know that the press loves to twist words and put statements into people’s mouths, but you don’t really know how those exact words could come out meaning something completely different– your very much taken boyfriend told everyone he is very much single. Do you not deserve to be talked about, after everything? Is he ashamed of you?

Sighing, taking a peek out of the window to see if you’re at your stop yet– you’re not, and you think you have just the right amount of time to read the whole article before you have to get off. And so you do that– eyes quickly skimming through the words, Yuta’s answers transcribed so perfectly you can almost hear his voice saying the words in your head, the essence of him everywhere, making your chest tighten on itself.

The Seoul-based punk band Neo Zone is picking up everyone’s attention as they take over the Warped tour festivals with their ecstatic performances and amazing stage presence. Their sound is like no one else’s, making their fanbase rise quickly, the fastly growing popularity making a lot of questions rise in the heads of the public– one question in particular mostly in the female side of the spectrum.

We met with the frontman, 28-year old Yuta Nakamoto, to ask him a few questions about the band’s slow, but steady journey towards stardom, and also a bit about his personal life. Stay with us to get all the answers to questions you’ve been wondering about!

Eyes only briefly reading over the questions that ask about their journey– since you do know how they got where they are now, being there to witness it all; from band practices on Fridays, Yuta’s worried words at midnight over your night shifts, the songwriting sessions they had with Doyoung, where Yuta would send you pictures of his lyrics, asking for advice from his one and only muse, to them getting signed and going from playing local gigs at bars filled with cigarette smoke to venues filled with thousands of fans, all in the course of a few months. There’s only one thing you’re searching for in this article– although you’d read it all anyways, taking your time to patiently skim over each sentence, cheering Yuta on silently, there’s a thing in particular that makes you so jumpy to get to the bottom of the headline.

Finally, you get to it. You can only imagine the voice of the woman who did this interview with Yuta to be annoying, her eyes sneaky and coy as she asked him the question– but you soon catch yourself and sigh at your antics, at disbelief with what you managed to turn yourself into just for attention of a man that deemed you worthy.

“I’m sure a lot of girls are wondering the same thing, Yuta– especially after seeing you play on stage. I mean, you have an amazing stage presence, one that can’t help but attract people. The public– me included– wants to know: are you dating anyone right now?”

The singer laughs at the question, shrugging to himself. The words don’t take long to come out of his mouth. “No, not at all. With how things have been going for us, it’s been really hard to find some time to date, but I’m sure that if anyone shoots me a wink from the audience, I can change my mind quickly.”

The words make you scoff. You rest your head against the seat, your tongue poking the side of your cheek, when you notice that you’re at your stop– resulting in you scrambling for your things and practically throwing yourself out of the bus so the doors wouldn’t close on you and drive you away from the bus stop you need to get off on. Yuta’s response keeps repeating in your brain– ‘it’s been really hard to find some time to date’ – at least he’s not lying about that, you think.

And yes, maybe you should’ve understood his motives. Maybe he wanted to protect you from the hate, maybe he simply wanted to give you your privacy, but still– something in you breaks at being denied, at being hidden, and that burning, green feeling has you dialing Yuta’s number, waiting for the singer to reply.

It takes him a few seconds to pick up the call– you expected it, since it’s an usual occurrence now, with your texts going unanswered and calls mostly ignored, if taken, then either after a lot of ringing, or being returned to you after a few minutes when you get through to the voicemail. Still, you’re relieved when you hear his voice on the other side of the line, a little low and groggy, but still familiar.

“Hello, my love,” he says, and the pet name makes you equal parts warm and furious. So now you’re his love? What about the time he did the interview?

“Hi,” you breathe, walking down the sidewalk to your dorm building.

“Why are you calling?” he asks. Do you need a reason to? He seems to be asking this a lot lately, but now that you actually have a reason is when the question hurts you the least.

You hum into the phone, finding the right words to say. Something inside of your gut is screaming at you, telling you just how silly and childish you’re going to sound– at just how demanding and clingy you’re going to look. But still, you can’t help but let the words slip past your mouth. “I was just wondering… about the stuff you said in the interview,” you say.

The male is silent for a little, not really responding to your worries. When he seems to gather that you’re not going to explain– and you don’t have to, since you’re aware that he knows what you mean by your subtle prompt– he talks to you with lightness in his tone, something akin to playful teasing in the reply that has you feeling stupid, so stupid for calling him.

“About that? Y/N… you know you don’t have to worry about the two of us,” he says, laughing, “it’s just… I couldn’t just tell them I’m dating. My manager said I couldn’t, since it may damage the band’s image. I have to stay desirable to keep up the interest.”

You’re silent. So he did it for the band. Not your privacy, not your safety.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

You find it in yourself to hum at his explanation– no matter how unsatisfactory it was, no matter how it made you feel even worse about the situation than before you called. It’s okay, though– you know that his band always comes first. You can’t tarnish his dreams like that. If a secret is what you have to be, then you’re more than okay with that, if it means Yuta gets to shine like the star he’s always been in your heart.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” he asks. “I have to go now, if you don’t have anything else.”

“That’s- that’s all, yeah,” you mumble, sighing as you walk over to the dorms, opening the door with your student ID and slipping inside.

“Okay,” he hums, “I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

No I love you, no how was your day, no I miss you. No I’ll see you soon, no I can’t wait to see your face, no I can’t wait to hear your voice. It’s okay, though– he must be tired.

VIII. broke, but gave all money to an airline

The next time you allow yourself to travel to see Yuta (despite all your responsibilities at college, with finals coming up and assignments piling up, making you bring your laptop to work with you and type away to finish up all your essays in between customers, having Jaechan read over the passages when your sleep deprivation gets the best of you and you can’t even recognise if you’re using the correct grammar and punctuation anymore), is on the last show of his festival tour. Something inside of you is telling you that you should go watch your boyfriend’s last gig for the time being, to congratulate him and show him just how much you support him, despite your busy schedule (that he is unaware of. You don’t want him to worry).

And on top of that, it’s his birthday– the surprise visit to the show is only an addition to the gift you bought him, though. The personalized lyric journal and a box of his favorite chocolates seems too silly of a gift for somebody like Yuta Nakamoto, but it’s all you can afford, all you can give him. Still, you hope the sincerity and love is able to be felt through the action; you hope he realizes just how much you love him and just how much you missed him all those months.

The journey to the last state was long. You didn’t get enough sleep, you felt jittery and anxious, everything in your bones was screaming at you and cursing you for allowing yourself to make such a trip so early after the old one. Traveling is exhausting, you realize– both mentally and physically– when you have to walk distances and flash all your savings down the drain just to get bus tickets, when you have to rack your brain over to not get lost and take the right directions, make the right turns and walk the right distances. You guess you could understand Yuta a little bit better now– you’re not the one traveling somewhere else every night, and still, you feel insanely tired.

You didn’t tell Yuta about your visit. All you texted him the night before was that you wish him good luck on stage today and that you’re proud of him– sentences that get a short-cut response, an uninterested tone. You guess he just got bummed out that you didn’t stay up and wish him happy birthday the first thing at midnight– a thing he did for you when you weren’t even dating yet, the action warming you up so much back then– but even though it broke your heart, you couldn’t blow your own cover. You wanted to wish him happy birthday in person, to his face.

There is a buzz in the tips of your fingertips when you arrive at the festival. You’ve watched countless of clips online, experienced the concert first-hand multiple times before– you’re sure you could recite the setlist and the exact order of the acts playing if you were woken up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat– but still, you can’t wait to see Yuta perform. You can’t wait to watch the joyful look on his face, the dreamy eyes gazing over the crowd, the raspy voice calling to you like a siren in a love song you were told was about you in the middle of the night, holding him in your dorm bed.

You didn’t stand in the front rows this time. For some reason, you don’t want the singer to know you’re here. You want to watch the show unnoticed, unannounced, enjoying it like every other fan would– except, you’re expecting to meet him after, the way so many girls dream of every night, but never get to experience.

And in a perfect reality, the show ends and you run backstage. The security acknowledges you as his girlfriend and lets you in, smiles at you and pats you on your lower back– go get him, he’s all yours– as you excitedly grin and get ready to finally close the distance between you. In your perfect dreams, that don’t become reality, you’re meeting Yuta and holding him close, chanting whispers at the universe and telling them see? We made it, no matter how many obstacles you threw our way. We made it despite the distance.

Maybe somebody should’ve told you you were a naive dreamer before you came here to embarrass yourself. Nobody did, though– and so here you are.

“Unfortunately, fans aren’t allowed backstage,” the security says, and you understand him– your relationship is secret, not public, so really, he couldn’t have known you were not just a fan, but his girlfriend (despite still thinking that you are Yuta’s biggest fan, always. Nobody could ever support him the way you do).

“I’m not a fan, sir,” you grin, “I’m his girlfriend. I know anyone could say that, but if you just get someone from the back and tell them my name, they will tell you that I’m his partner, trust me,” you explain, a desperate inkling in your voice.

“I don’t have time for that, kid,” the man says. And it’s fair. He’s just doing his job.

“Please, I went here to surprise– there he goes!” you point towards your boyfriend walking off the stage, his head snapping towards you at the sound of your voice, still recognisable even through the flood of screams around. The man locks eyes with you and you wave at him, a fond smile overtaking your tired face, the flame inside you that’s currently giving you third degree burns of anxiety finally starts to get more subtle when recognition flashes through Yuta’s face, but again– you were naive. Naive to think he would appreciate your visit, naive to think he’d like the surprise, naive to think nothing would change between the two of you, naive to think he wouldn’t get tired and find someone new.

A naive kid.

That’s what you are.

Nakamoto Yuta runs off stage, envelopes an excited girl around her shoulders when she runs after him from backstage. Her hair is longer than yours, her face more mature, her smile similar to the ones you saw all the time at the diner whenever Yuta was around, a flirting spark somewhere in between her pearly white teeth. She kisses his jaw and he grins at her, not bothering to look around. The crowd around you gets silent, but your brain tells you it’s foolish to think everyone suddenly stopped talking– it was just your senses slowly shutting out, your vision getting blurry.

So this was the problem all along, you think.

“Anything else? If you’re done being delusional, you can get lost,” the security spits at you, and you chuckle to yourself.

Delusional. That hits the nail on the head.

Nodding, you chew on the inside of your cheek as you stumble backwards, running off through the crowd as you try your best not to get your legs tied and fall over. Your vision is hazy and you refuse to look up, too embarrassed, humiliated by the events of the day to show your face to anyone, resulting in you bumping into someone, your figure limply falling to the ground. Sobs make your shoulders shake, all motivation to stand up and move leaving your body when somebody crouches down next to you, a considerate female voice reaching your ears.

“Everything okay, hun? I’m so sorry, I should’ve watched my step,” she says, a hand patting your back, the smell of her perfume filling your nostrils. “Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

Shaking your head, you refuse to speak. The female considerately sneaks her arms around you, pulling you to her chest. “What is it? You can tell it to a stranger, I won’t spill.”

“Yuta-” you choke out. Embarrassment is finally the least of your concerns.

“What? What about him?”

“I loved him and he– he threw it all away,” you finish, now completely breaking.

The girl rocks you back and forth, hand running up and down your back to get you to relax. It’s strange, since you haven’t even seen her face, haven’t even asked her name– for all you know, she could think you’re just a crazy fangirl, crying for no reason. But the universe has its way of looking out after you tonight– the soul next to you holding you tight, fingers running through your hair. “It’s alright, babygirl. Cry it out,” she says, “he doesn’t deserve you… I know, I’ve been there. That’s a lesson you have to learn, though– you never date a band guy.

He’s always gonna break your heart.”

EPILOGUE - try not to abuse your power

Yuta Nakamoto was your hero.

He was your everything. He was someone you admired, someone you longed for, someone whose attention you craved for ever since the day you met him for the first time. It’s not every day you get to hang out with a guy that’s in a band, and it’s also not every day that the said guy shows you any type of interest or gives you any type of attention– and in your foolish heart, you took all of that and ran with it, chasing down the adrenaline and calling it love.

You guess it’s never a good idea to date your hero. See, people tend to idolize the ones they admire. People tend to put their heroes on the pedestal and do everything for them, putting them as their priority and disregarding their own needs and interests just to be worthy in the eyes of the other. You were too young to differentiate between healthy love and toxic obsession. You were too young to realize the relationship you had with Yuta wasn’t built on healthy grounds.

Yuta was your hero, yet, he managed to ruin you in a little not over a year. You bet it wasn’t even that hard.

Yuta was sweet. He tasted of honey and adrenaline, of chasing your dreams and running through empty streets with sparkles in your eyes. Yuta was someone older than you, more mature, promising you security and safety that he failed to give you despite your delusional beliefs of having your haven in him. You were young; thinking that guys your age don’t know how to treat you, won’t ever know how to treat you right– being with someone like Yuta was only right in your eyes. You were his fragile piece of pottery, the thing he was supposed to handle with care, and yet, you found yourself shattering at his touches. You should’ve expected it– his fingers were always too calloused to know how to touch anything gently anyway.

And yes, you do feel guilty. You do feel like it’s your fault that you let someone do this to you. You should’ve known better– you shouldn’t have been so childish, so naive. But really, you didn’t know any better. No one ever told you it was wrong. No one warned you. No one told you how it’s supposed to look.

No one told you that you weren’t supposed to spend all your money on plane and bus tickets just to see him for a couple of days. No one told you you weren’t supposed to support him unconditionally, ignore all the bad signs and pay no mind to the way his treatment made you feel worthless. No one told you you weren’t supposed to believe his sweet words, put trust into his empty promises.

It makes you sick, in a way. He knows your freckles, he knows your skin. He knows you like the back of his hand. Maybe, just maybe, you’d still fold under his touch if he dared to get close to you again. You don’t know if you’re strong enough to resist.

And maybe you do know better now, you do hate him for what he did, but you still miss him like a little kid. It’s like you were put on a drug that made you hate everyone and make him the only one you miss when you’re gone.

You do miss him. You do sometimes look at his social media. You do read the headlines of magazines when his face is on the front page. You do think of him whenever you wipe the counters during your night shifts, gazing at the spot he used to sit in whenever he came to keep you company, almost as if you could wish him back into existence. It’s a weird battle. The strangest type of inner conflict.

Driving down the road, back to your dorm in the car you saved up for, the radio humming lowly to keep you company in the silence, you recognize the first few tones of a G chord, the song sending chills down your spine. You listen for a few seconds, waiting for his voice to start– the raspiness, the strongness of his vocals still making you feel some type of way– before you chuckle to yourself.

You guess he did end up releasing the song, after all.

You sigh. It feels like ages have gone by since you heard the song for the first time. It feels like you aged a thousand since you last saw his face.

It’s still strange to hear him on the radio. He made it big, you think.

After all, you still wish him well. Somehow, you still think he deserves the glory.

You skip the song.

You park the car.

You get inside your dorm.

You live your life.

#nct #nct x reader #yuta #yuta x reader #yuta fic #yuta fluff #yuta angst #nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct angst #nct fluff

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gravedigginbbydoll · 7 months

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Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey y'all! I'm sorry for the brief hiatus, this past week has been insane. Working at a University is NOT FOR THE WEAK. I've been doing quite shit tbh (blame crazies and my job). Anyways, this chapter is a little sad (I'm so sorry, I swear there'll be comfort later). Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Also pls remember reblogs and comments are appreciated ! I love feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

Chapter 6

Bugs POV

It had been two weeks since your sleepover. You had found yourself staying over on weekends, you and Eddie falling into even more of a comfortability with one another. You both discussed everything under the sun, getting to know all the intricacies behind the other. You learned Eddie loved his tattoos and hated needles, how his family was really from nearby Hawkins but he often refused to go home due to his reputation in town. He let you know how he was the town pariah as an openly bisexual metalhead delinquent and how Hawkins was the first place he began to feel like himself. You learned he loved thrift stores and record shops, could live off of cereal and beer, and hated the smell of overly fruity vape juice (“If it fucking smells like a middle school girls locker room, why would you smoke it?”). You even learned that Eddie had a…reputation…on campus. You hadn’t heard about it until your American Government class, where the girl behind you (Christine?) had been giggling with her friends about the way the ‘punk guy who deals’ had fulfilled her ‘wildest dreams’. She went further into detail, but you tried to zone her out at that.

Anyways, you decided to help Eddie out to face his fear of changing his major. Which led you here.

You were standing at the door of the Advising Office, Eddie fidgeting beside you. You could feel his anxiety rolling off of him in waves. Eddie was often an overthinker, but equipped at hiding it with putting on a show. He tended to not do so around you, though. You reached out gingerly, grabbing onto his elbow, the denim jacket he wore soft and worn from use against your hand.

“Eds, it’ll be okay. I’ll be right here. I promise,” You softly whispered, eyes searching his face to try and get him to meet your gaze.

His brown eyes met yours, full of worry as he gulped. He looked back towards the doors, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t know if I can do this, Bug. What if Wayne-”

You cut him off with a light smack to his elbow, rolling your eyes playfully. “You specifically called Wayne to talk about this. I was there. He just wants you to be happy. I remember because you put him on speaker and I still could barely hear the man.”

Eddie sighed, nodding and huffing out a breath before he headed to the door, marching inside. You smiled, your heart squeezed softly in pride. Eddie had talked with you and leaned toward Music Therapy. He felt something tug him towards helping young kids through music, letting you in on a small bit of his own struggles. You were grateful and didn’t push, only being told that he had ‘gone through some mental distress’ last year, causing him to get put in inpatient for a bit, falling behind in classes. You recalled his face as he sat on his bed with you, strumming Sweetheart (his electric guitar) softly, voice shaky with emotion.

“The only thing that called out to me was music. I just want to be there for people who feel the same way.”

You were snapped out of your thoughts as Eddie exited the office, face in a soft smile, eyes watery with tears. You rushed over, worry sinking in.

“What happened? Is it too late to enter those classes? Eds, I-”

“I filled out the application to switch over. She told me that it may take a few days, but because I was within the music department anyways, it wouldn’t be a difficult switch. I have to wait to take some of the courses, but I can drop my two Production courses without penalty,” He sighed softly, his tone full of relief as he looked down at you, blinking away tears before hastily pulling you into a hug. He squeezed you softly, mumbling thank yous into your hair, clear relief flooding into your system. Eddie was affectionate and loved touch, so you were glad he was feeling better.

You squeezed back, heart soaring.

Everything was going to be okay.

You stood in the local Rosa’s Costumes, the store filled to the brim with props and clothing. It was a favorite of the theater department at Hawkins and had been running for years. You and Eddie were among the clearly haunted prop items and section of the store that was for some reason themed as pirates. Eddie was perusing the hundreds of clothing and costumes on the aging racks, the familiar smell of Rosa’s incense wafting through the store.

“I don’t think we should go as anything basic, because we are anything but,” Eddie stated cheekily, wiggling his brows over at you.

You felt your stomach twist and turn as you plastered on a smile as best as you could. Eddie was referring to the Kappa Nu party that he had extended an invite to you to. You knew Eddie usually sold at parties and while it made you nervous (he had called you his favorite little square after you expressed concern), you were more anxious at the idea of being anywhere near the Kappa Nu house. You knew it boasted the hottest girls in Hawkins and it would be packed tight with bodies on Halloween night.

You originally had a plan of doing what you always did with Eddie: renting a lot of campy horror movies and cuddling on the couch while drinking and Eddie would smoke, the two of you laughing at the practical effects. And then maybe after you’d head into town to see the local Ghost Walk that occasionally came through detailing all the spooky haunted places in town with an over the top narrator.

But Eddie had burst into your study period at the library with Nancy, excitedly telling you about his success in his new courses and his ability to catch up. He called for a celebration as Nancy laughed and bid the two of you goodbye to head into work. Then he told you about getting an invitation to Kappa Nu, his eyes twinkling with excitement. And honestly…

How could you have said no to that face?

So now you were here, in a theater kids wet dream of a store, thumbing through costumes to try and stumble upon an idea. Eddie was zipping up and down aisles, a pep in his step. He was recently more animated and less stressed, the clear joy from his new classes clear as day. It warmed your heart.

Eddie grabbed your hand, walking briskly toward an aisle before turning to grin that megawatt smile at you. “I think I just had the perfect idea,” He gushed, turning back around to lead you with determination, clearly on a mission.

You felt your heart race and face heat up as tingles ran up and down your arms. Eddie was unaware but your crush was carving and worming it’s way deeper into your heart, the affliction becoming harder to ignore. You tried to tell yourself that it was better this way, Eddie being too good of a friend to pass up. But every hug, every cuddle, and every warm cheek kiss led to more and more of an entanglement, your mind at war with your heart.

Even Robin began to notice. You told her there was no way he would like you back, what with being Eddie, but she wouldn’t hear your excuses. She stated that it was clear that the two of you were ‘dumbass lovesick puppies’ who ‘couldn’t read the room worth shit’. You had finished the conversation at that, seeing a resident come up to the desk, and the last thing you needed was your hall gossiping about your romantic life or lack thereof.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Eddie let go of your hand, grabbing for a ridiculously large leather jacket with a huge collar, clearly meant as a biker or greaser costume. You cocked your head at Eddie, eyebrows furrowed while you fought back a smile.

“What are you doing with that thing?”

“We can go as The Driller Killer and an 80’s girl! From Slumber Party Massacre 2!,” Eddie said excitedly, his dimples appearing as his grin grew.

You laughed a bit, shaking your head with a smile. Eddie would pick the campy serial killer who was based off of a greaser and had an electric guitar with a murdering drill on the neck. It was perfect.

“Sure, why not?,” You laughed a bit as Eddie grabbed your hand immediately to drag you off in search of the other pieces.

Maybe the party wouldn’t be so bad.

You were standing on the front lawn of the large white mansion, knees shaky as you felt your stomach churn. Suddenly your makeup felt stupid and your clothes too tight. You tugged on the jean shorts and blue cropped t-shirt you wore, your body feeling as though it burst into flames. Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing it and giving you a soft smile.

“It’ll be okay, Bug,” He said softly.

You looked up at him, his hair coiffed carefully with the rest back in a bun, his large ridiculous leather jacket and tight jeans still looking like a dream on him. He wore the fake cutout prop of the guitar drill slung on his back and some fake blood splatter across the thing. Even in his campy get up, and laughable oversized leather collar, he looked adorable. You pinched your own leg discreetly, trying to curb the feelings.

You nodded up at him, squeezing his hands and turning to face the house once again, walking toward it. Once you entered, you felt your senses become overwhelmed. You saw flashing lights and a million bodies stuffed within the house. The smell of weed and alcohol along with perfume, cologne, sweat, and sugar lingered in the air, making your head spin. You felt the bass of the music playing inside vibrate through the floor, traveling through your bones almost. You clung to Eddie, feeling as if you’d either vomit or faint if you let go. Eddie rubbed your hand softly, leading you deeper inside to the kitchen, the room’s island filled with various bottles and bar piled high with boxes and cans of soda, Twisted Teas, Trulys, White Claws, a large plastic tub of bright pink alcohol brimming with fruit. Eddie grabbed a cup with ice and a coke can and the Jack Daniels bottle, quickly mixing up a Jack and Coke for you. He handed you the cup, your fingers brushing as you grabbed the sticky red plastic. Your heart sped up as your whole body felt a burst of heat and electricity. You tried to brush it off.

“Thanks, Ed,” You shouted over the music as he nodded softly at you, a smile on his lips.

You took a sip, determined to let loose and forget this impending tornado of feelings swirling in you. You could be calm. You could let go.

Eddie grabbed himself a beer, smiling at you and pointing to turn your attention towards Robin and Steve, the two clearly already intoxicated. They were dressed like Doc Brown and Marty, Robin amusingly dressed as the doctor (though she had removed the wig and was twirling it in the air it seemed) and Steve dressed as Marty, puffer jacket and all. You laughed, waving at them. Robin waved, and elbowed Steve to wave back.

Jonathan and Argyle appeared then, dressed as Cheech and Chong. Jonathan smiled at Eddie as Argyle nodded at the two of you.

“Killer costumes, dudes. No one appreciates campy horror these days,” He mused, taking a sip of his soda.

Jonathan furrowed his brows and shook his head, clearly not as aware of the reference to your costumes as Argyle. He was about to open his mouth when Steve and Robin came up. Steve slung his arm around Jonathan’s shoulder while holding his half empty cup in the other hand, grinning.

“Wassup guys? I- I had a little too mu-much,” Steve hiccuped, grinning.

You laughed softly, covering your mouth with your hand. Steve could be a bit of a worrywart and mother hen, so it was nice to see him let loose on these occasions.

“Hey-hey….psst….Roomie!,” Steve frantically whispered to Eddie, causing Eddie to grin a bit.

“Yes, roomie?,” Eddie teased, clearly keeping a mental note of the interaction to tease Steve for later.

“I- I saw that hot girl you’ve been see-ing a bi-bit…here…She was over t-there,” Steve slurred, lifting a weak finger to point behind you.

You felt your stomach churn. Eddie had been seeing someone? You knew he hooked up with plenty of people before but had put a pause on it for a bit. You looked up to Eddie out of the corner of your eye, seeing his face pale a bit as he faked a laugh, eyes guarded as he tried to change the subject. Was he hiding a girl from you? Something serious? Your heart raced as you felt as though a thorned vine wrapped around it, squeezing and puncturing it, your mind going through every scenario.

While lost in your thoughts, Steve lost his footing and slipped from Jonathan's grip, losing his hold on his drink. The bright pink liquid mostly splattering on your shirt, making you come to your senses while also feeling anxiety bubble up and tears sting the back of your eyes,.

“Oh-Oh Bu-bug I’m soo sorry, I-,” Steve blubbered, eyes wide in panic as he looked at you and you felt your walls come up. You needed to get out of here.

“It’s okay. I’m just gonna go clean up,” You said softly to the group, eyes with a blank stare as you pushed through the crowd to go upstairs.

You happened upon a miraculously empty bathroom, entering and wetting a towel while dabbing at the bright blue shirt, actions getting more frantic as your vision began to blur. You began to feel your hands shake as you sobbed softly,

You were a fool.

Girls like you didn’t get Eddie Munson. Girls like you didn’t get dates, period. You studied and worked snitchy jobs and lost sleep over not pleasing people. You avoided new things and never stepped out of your comfort zone. You pinpointed every flaw in the mirror until it was all you could see. Boys like Eddie Munson knew nothing but kindness and courage, building a thick skin, and women pinning and giggling after them. Eddie Munson knew adventures and spontaneity, he knew dates with people and sudden hookups. Hell, he knew sorority girls.

You leaned over the bathroom counter, the sobs wracking your body now as you lost control. You felt your insides twist and turn and pull. You were a lost cause. You couldn’t lose your friendship, but you felt the feelings pouring out of your skin and bones, shattering your insides.

You sobbed more, scratching your throat raw, your whole body aching with pain.

It hurt. Knowing you were not enough.

You should’ve known it was coming, as it did always, but you felt it so deeply now that you wouldn’t soon forget.

You sobbed until there were no more tears left, hands gripping the counter as you looked up to assess the damage. Your bright blue eyeshadow and liner were now muddy splotches on your face, swirling colors. You sighed, wetting the towel again, going to scrub off the evidence, your heart sinking.

You’d have to put walls up. You wouldn’t give up Eddie. Just…be more realistic.

You scrubbed until your face was rubbed raw and felt warm from all the friction of the scratchy guest bathroom towel, your mind and heart too fresh with pain to consider the germs. You splashed some water on your face before beginning to head down,

You headed down the stairs when you spotted it in the dark corner of the crowded room.

Eddie. And a petite blonde.

She was giggling at something he said as they talked, her hand on his arm. She was dressed as a cheerleader, the costume clearly a real uniform from her days in high school. Eddie was speaking animatedly with her, clearly unaware of your current state.

You raced down the stairs, dodging bodies as you zoomed past Argyle, barely hearing him call out as you rushed out the building, heading outside to the cold and lonely air.

Fuck Halloween.

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90

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crazystargirl · 10 months

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Hiii!! Ur blog is amazing! I saw you wanted requests so!

Could u write smth abt f!reader x Ethan Landry where the reader is kind of like a rockstar gf? And she’s very flirty with him but has an attitude with everyone lol. And Ethan just being shy when the reader flirts with him but always has her back and if necessary drags her out of arguments/fights.. established relationship pls,I hope u enjoy writing this if u decide to :)<333

musician!ethan x rockstar!reader hc ♥︎

pairing ♥︎ - musician!ethan landry x rockstar!reader, ethan landry x fem!reader

word count ♥︎ - 0.5k !

a/n ♥︎ - kae, thank you for being such a sweet person and being so patient for me to finish your request, i honestly took forever to write this bc i had no idea how to write this so i made it into headcanons. i hope you enjoy it !!! ( p.s. i looked up what a rockstar gf was and just didn't really like the idea of it so i kind of changed up it up and added my own lil thing )

↳ first of all, both you and ethan are musicians

↳ you're pretty reckless so people were shocked when they found out that ethan, a shy musician, was dating you, a rockstar

↳ also ethan probably plays the acoustic guitar while you play the electric one

↳ you guys met at one of your performances that chad dragged ethan to

🎸 "dude i can't go tonight! i have homework!"

🎸 "fuck homework dude, you need to loosen up for once"

↳ you immediately noticed ethan out of the large crowd since there aren't many people like him at your performances

↳ you realize that ethan is the musician you go to watch perform sometimes to take your mind off of school

↳ you guys ended up talking back stage later and he asked you out

↳ he took you on a little picnic and the rest is history

↳ you guys had been dating for a few months and ethan very quickly picked up on all your bad habits

↳ for one your room was always messy so he always cleaned it up while you were class

🎸 "eth! you don't need to clean up my room everytime it gets messy!"

🎸 "but love if i dont you're literally going to have a landfill in here

↳ he takes you with him most days so you can watch him rehearse his stuff

↳ you usually just sit there watching on one of the trunks ( you made it VERY clear early on that you wanted to sit on a trunk and not the chair )

↳ sometimes he'll let you join in or just do your own thing

↳ you like flirting with ethan a lot since it makes him all flustered

↳ his love language is giving you little gifts and sometimes writing songs for you

↳ since you're stubborn as fuck he usually finds you arguing with people

↳ and him being the sweet, shy boyfriend, he has to drag you out of fights or arguments

🎸 "baby you cannot keep arguing with people!"

🎸 "but he said you weren't a good musician so i had to argue in your defense!"

↳ ethan's asked you before why you're like that with others and not with him

🎸 "because you're my boyfriend and i love you, are you complaining?"

🎸 "nononono i was just curious baby"

↳ sometimes you're like a little kid and to calm you down he gets you ice cream and the worst part? it works

↳ unfortunately this isn't the only time you'll act like a kid, if you're at one of ethan's performances and you're bored because your phone is dead, he'll give you his and it will shut you up

↳ sometimes he'll let you sit on his lap when you rehearse

↳ after performances he'll take you to go get food and then you guys will watch a movie together at his place

↳ when you guys are both on break, ethan will take you out on cute little dates

↳ sometimes when you're bored out of your mind, he'll teach you how to play the acoustic guitar

🎸 "eth this is too hard"

🎸 "baby you cannot give up that easily otherwise you'll never learn"

taglist ♥︎ - @xyzstar, @ourloveisgod23, @dizscreams, @kaesworldxx, @bhk1234uwu, @nonniesworld, @athenalive, @lanaslittletwinkie, @beccajoestar

if your name is crossed out it's bc it wouldn't let me tag you

a/n ♥︎ - this is kinda short, i apologize, but if you want there to be a pt. 2 or a lil drabble for this, just send me an ask :)

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x you #jack champion fluff #fluff #scream 6 ethan

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moonpiies · 10 months

Text

ELECTRIC LOVE

𓆩♡𓆪 pairing: e-42!miles morales x black!reader

𓆩♡𓆪 a/n: sorry this took 10 billion years🧍🏾‍♀️also guys idk anything abt guitars so if i got anything wrong pls correct me

it was a saturday afternoon and both your parents were at work as per usual so you decided to text your boyfriend miles to see what he’s up to.

mi amor <3

wyd rn?

pookie pie😼

chillin

why?

mi amor <3

do you wanna come over

pookie pie😼

whatchu tryna do👀?

mi amor <3

i will block you.

i wanna hang out w my mannn

are you coming over or not🧍🏾‍♀️?

seen

“a yes or no would’ve been great.” you muttered to yourself as you continued to scroll on tiktok, laying in your bed. about 15 minutes later you hear 3 knocks on your window before yelling, “come in!” knowing that it was miles.

he opened the window and climbed through, “hey princesa.” he greeted as he took off his shoes and left them underneath the window on a mat.

“hey.” you smiled as you got off your bed to give him a hug which he returned with a soft smile.

miles pulled away from you as looked around your room and saw that you have multiple band posters and led lights in your room.

he also noticed that you had a couple of electric guitars hung up on your wall. he looked extremely fascinated as he admired all of them that had different styles and colors and some have a couple of stickers while some don’t.

“why didn’t you tell me you played the electric guitar amor?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow.

“i guess it just never came up in one of our convos.” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“play me something.” he asked as he took a seat on your pink bean bag.

“alright, which one do you want me to play?” you asked.

“that one.” he said as he pointed at a black and white one that had no stickers.

“okay.” you said as you started to set it up by plugging it into the speaker. you unlocked your phone and searched up the instrumental of ‘like that’ by ‘doja cat’ which was one of your favorite things to play on the electric guitar.

you put the guitar over your head and adjusted it a little then pressed play and tried your best to stay on beat with the instrumental.

he watched as your fingers glided across and moved from string to string with ease. he realized how calm you were while you were playing and decided to take a quick picture of you to save for memories.

you stopped a bit later into the song than expected since you didn’t know the rest of it and paused the instrumental playing on your phone.

“well what do you think?” you shyly asked as you set your guitar down on your bed. miles stood up and walked up to you and wrapped his hands around your waist.

“wow, debería hacer que juegues para mí más a menudo.” (wow i should get you to play for me more often) he smirked as you got flustered at his comment.

#﹒⪩⪨﹒ash’s fics!#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales fanfic #marvel #earth 1610 miles morales #spiderman #black!reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #e1610 miles #across the spiderverse #black!fem!reader #e42 miles

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artelicious · 4 months

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Assigning instruments to RoR characters

Based of… idk

Apollo: Lyre, and the harp. Think there was canon art of him holding a lyre, but not sure though.

Leonidas: Drums: holds the tempo, yet also intense

Poseidon: Flute. Have you heard his whistling?

Loki: Saxophone. Careless whisper. Need I say more?

Thor: Electric bass. Its either bassists are like far in the back and not noticed by the audience, or they get those awesome bass solos. No inbetween. Kinda fitting for him, i think

Odin: The cello. Fits his vibe, and can play both basslines and main melodies.

Qin Shi Huang: Some sorta percussion within marching bands (not really my something i know much of, so pls dont come for me)

Jack the ripper: the violin and piano. He canonically plays the piano, but since he is well versed in strings, he would definitely be familiar with bow pressure and how to not make screehing noises

Nikola Tesla: Electric guitar. He would love to play harmonic notes and being able to manipulate lots of sounds (whammy bar, tuning pegs etc). If he would have more time, he would play less common instruments, such as the sitar.

a/n: band au??????

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #ror nikola tesla #nikola tesla record of ragnarok #ror jack the ripper #ror apollo #ror thor #ror Odin #ror loki #ror hermes #ror qin shi huang #ror leonidas

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sungbeam · 1 year

Text

JACOB BAE BF HEADCANONS—!

jacob bae x gn!reader

0.9k words, fluff hehe, bulletpoints, barely proofread lol

a/n: we knew this was coming, everyone. don't act too surprised now õ_ó lmao thank u @justalildumpling for reminding me how to write bulletpoint hcs 🤡😭

jacob bae, boyfriend material™, my beloved sweet canadian angel boy—(bear with me 💀)

acts of service!

my reasoning behind this is incredibly justified okay 😩 if u haven't seen the picture of his response to a deobi about what he's looking for in a partner, he basically said for one of them that he'd like to be the one taking care of them instead of the other way around

completely justified; very jacob bae of him

this man would literally never let you lift a finger when you're with him. he would always insist on driving you places so you wouldn't have to take public transport by yourself, or he would def take time out of his day to go with you on public transport. if you had to, say, take the metro alone, he would facetime or call you the entire time so you weren't truly alone and someone knew where you were in case of an emergency

he'd probably even share his earbuds with you while sitting together so u could listen to the same music (communicating without words (´Д⊂ヽ)

you can def expect him to be cooking dinner for the two of you, even after a long day. all he wants is to make sure you know you are loved and that you feel loved. he's not blind to the purple eye bags beneath your eyes, and even though he's tired, he knows you'd do the same for him

when he stays up late for you, you wake up early to prepare things for him in the morning

quality time!

if you don't live together, he would call you while studying or working so he can still be in your presence somehow. he's kind of quiet most of the time, but it's just cuz he's a great listener and wants to hear what you have to say instead.

we know that the poor thing is kind of a scaredy cat, so when the two of you are watching movies and he gets scared, he clings onto you and hides his face in your shoulder or your neck ><

when the two of you first started dating, he would try to pretend like he wasn't scared, but then when you noticed him curl up around a pillow or raise his blanket a little higher, you moved closer and let him hold onto you instead

can you imagine daily walks with him? maybe like taking the time each week in the evenings to hold hands and take a stroll through the park?

maybe you'd both scout out places for a picnic, and the two of you would giggle as you spread out the blanket and laid on top of each other beneath the shade of an oak tree, and he would have brought his guitar

SPEAKING OF HIS GUITAR!! (we all knew this was coming pls) when you expressed wanting to learn, he would be super excited to teach you

you're sitting between his legs or on his lap on the couch in his apartment, and he's just got his hands over yours as he shows you the right fingerings and patterns for certain chords

man likes to praise you and let you know you're doing a good job; has his chin settled on your shoulder and his mouth close to your ear as he murmurs "you're a natural at this, babe"

SOCJOSKC OH NO CAN U IMAGINE HIM PLAYING THE ELECTRIC GUITAR PART FROM MARIA, MARIA BY SANTANA 😭 (devastated </3)

late night drives with him: it's like 2am and neither of you can sleep, so he takes you out to drive around the neighborhood, then stops in an empty parking lot to sit together and quietly talk about life, love, and each other. it's very romantic and soft, just as he is, and he just holds your hand while he drives, his thumb running gently over your knuckles to assure you he's listening

misc! 😋

when you don't kiss him goodbye or good night he's just 🧍🏻‍♂️ with this little pout on his face like HUH.

would actually share his cereal with you; it's his love language

he may be an angel or whatever, but that just means he gets away with stuff easier !! i think it was implied somewhere that he plays pranks on people, and i can def see him hiding your car keys somewhere and giving you that angelic look like "it wasn't me" "cobie, i can see my keychain sticking out of your pocket" "you can have it back if you give me a kiss then"

OKAY. I'VE HELD BACK FOR THIS LONG BUT WE HAVE TO ADDRESS THE NEWSHOT PICS OF HIM HE'S SO BOYFRIEND IN THOSE HOW COULD I NOT?

in your first apartment together, you guys don't have a lot of furniture yet, so he sets up his laptop and gaming stuff on a couple moving boxes and coke cans 💀 but he's like "baby, my hair is getting in my eyes!!" while he's gaming and you come to his aid and tie his hair back or clip it back with one of your hair barrettes hehe

at pool parties with the other boyz, he goes shirtless (ofc) and every time he wraps his arm around you, you have a heart attack (as you should)

when beach volleyball starts up in the pool, the two of you end up on opposite teams and it's like the only time everyone sees the two of you so competitive, but it's only cuz you're both pretty good 🥴

but as soon as kyunyu challenge everyone to a chicken fight in the pool, you're both back in the other's good graces and you hop on top of jacob's shoulders to absolutely destroy everyone

a/n: lmk who u wanna see next! might end up doing kev or kyu next tho tbh lol

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @justalildumpling @hyunjaespresent-deobi @hongyangi @pxppxrminty @nerdypastacalzonespy @kflixnet

#kflixnet #the boyz x reader #jacob bae x reader #bae joonyoung x reader #the boyz fluff #the boyz imagines #the boyz drabble #the boyz scenarios #the boyz headcanons #jacob bae imagines #jacob bae scenarios #jacob bae fluff #jacob bae drabbles #jacob bae headcanons

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mishwanders · 7 months

Note

hiya mish! can i request Time reacting to someone who has an electric guitar [and they have a mini amp clipped to their hip] [we aren't gonna talk about how it's powered. uh.. solar power. yeah why not. idk ever since i saw the art where he had the guitar from majora's mask i just went "haha funny guitar" like maybe they are playing a bunch of different genres of music kindof makes me wonder how good Time himself is with the guitar. hmm...

I just want to serenade him so bad.

Characters: Time x Guitar Player!Reader

A/N+Warnings: N/A, safe for everyone. Written by Mishwanders - pls do not repost.

Time is well versed in music by ear, able to pick up on any tune and easily replicate it (due to the many years and time travels worth of practice of course).

So, when you asked if you could borrow his guitar, he was rather curious and intrigued to hear you play - seeing as you hadn’t mentioned it before on your adventure together.

He was fascinated by the small portable hookup that you had in your bag, he’d never seen anything like it before, not even by the greatest of bards in his era.

When you began to play though, he was in awe of your talent.

Regardless of whatever genre you played, he could tell how much you enjoyed it, as the tune took over you as you focused in and let your soul run wild with it.

He enjoyed getting to see you in this state, the vulnerability that comes with it. It was like he was getting to see a whole other side of you that was rare, especially on the road.

Time DEFINITELY becomes your biggest supporter after that. Want to play at a tavern? He might as well already be pushing/carrying you onto the stage before you even mention it.

Busking? Time is standing on guard for you!

All in all, very supportive, loves to hear you play, is like a dad whose wearing all of his kids merch out in the crowd and wants everyone to know he’s your biggest fan lol.

#lu time #time x reader #lu time x reader #linked universe #linked universe x reader #sfe #writing: time

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kkennzzi · 7 months

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very oddly specific ultrakill headcanon post that nobody will probably care about nor has anyone else ever probably thought about (that i am only makinf for the sole purpose of combining two interests)

BUT. assigning ultrakill characters guitars. hi (guitar names in alt)

also i was like half asleep while writing this

V1 and V2

i figured itd only be fitting to give v1 a guitar with a flying v shape (haha get it. bc v. and v1 has wings. flying v. im so funny i know), i was debating between that, a warlock, or a gibson explorer but ultimately decided on this one

as for v2, v2 honestly just seems more like a bass than guitar kinda guy idk, i wouldve went with a bass with a flying v shape like v1’s but i couldnt rlly think of any thatd fit well enough so i settled for the warlock :p still cool as hell tho

(also i feel i should mention, there js a candy apple red variant of the guitar i assigned v1 so that could also be another v2 idea idk)

———

Mirage

ok i have MULTIPLE for her. bear with me pls

mirage absolutely seems like a nirvana enjoyer. she’d definitely have a jaguar or mustang, maybe even a jagstang or just in general a kurt cobain guitar of some kind

(either that or a classic black fender strat tbh, basic but still a good and versatile guitar 👍) ((maybe even a tele???? idk either suit her and how id imagine her playing style would be))

out of all the characters she honestly seems the most like someone who would play LMAOOO she either has just one of the previously mentioned guitars or all of them. no inbetween

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Gabriel

ok i think this ones pretty self explanatory but

yeah. probably an obvious choice but Come On tell me you cant see him absolutely fucking shredding divine intervention on this (also oh my god this is such a fucking gorgeous guitar. need.)

BONUS (funnier option): he’d have a yamaha acoustic and would only know how to play wonderwall and/or the stairway to heaven riff (he gets kicked out of guitar center all the time and has no idea why) /j

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Minos

i chose an explorer for him mostly bc the shape just gives me minos vibes???? idk??

in all honesty he doesn’t seem much like the type to play guitar, let alone electric, so i mostly chose this one based on looks/vibes bc i have no ideas for him oops (i feel like he’d prefer more classical instruments like violin, piano, etc.)

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Sisyphus

again i mostly chose these bc of how they look but honestly? i could see him playing these idk im out of things to say girl help

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anyways yea 👍 i hope you enjoyed my silly rambling i migjt do more characters eventually but i dont have ideas rn

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iheartchv · 2 months

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hihihii can i have a matchup pls ?? i was born in la, but am chinese/korean mixed, im 5'4, pale asf, and weigh around 95 lbs. i have brown/black hair and brown eyes, im thinking abt dying my hair tho !!

my personality type is entj, i like talking, but im lowkey awkward </3 idk how to describe my fashion style but ill try my best, i usually wear a tight top w baggy pants, ex baby tee w cargos. i also love wearing off shoulder sweaters paired with a skirt !!

i mainly listen to kpop, metal, and emo music :3 i love going to concerts and events that are close to me. i also love travelling since my parents have the time and resources to take me where i want <33

i am a competitive figure skater, i also play the violin and electric guitar. in my free time, i play games (genshin, cod, project sekai), and i love binge watching shows !

collectings things like vinyl, lego sets, plushies, and funko pops are also one of my hobbies !!

sorry if this is written badly or hard to understand </3

🤔 I'll match you with...

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick 🚁