#electric guitar played on some bridge

[sunforgrace]

he sat there on the ground and cried. for cas. cas told him he loved him was taken away and he buried his head in his hands and wept

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway. 

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it. 

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too. 

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.  

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then. 

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried. 

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change. 

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang. 

Trust I seek and I find in you 

Every day for us something new 

Open mind for a different view 

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work. 

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original. 

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar. 

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground. 

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart 

Forever trusting who we are 

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case. 

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords. 

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt. 

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to. 

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question. 

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.” 

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since. 

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips. 

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money. 

Fuck it. 

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight. 

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide. 

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it. 

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles. 

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you. 

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless. 

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone. 

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?” 

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride. 

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours. 

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?” 

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed. 

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours. 

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.” 

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station. 

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped. 

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo. 

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags. 

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up. 

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. “So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters. 

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over. 

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind. 

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in. 

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life. 

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket. 

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it. 

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him. 

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son. 

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened. 

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours. 

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer. 

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water. 

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp. 

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke. 

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you. 

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks. 

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation. 

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back. 

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill. 

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye. 

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard. 

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates. 

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you. 

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays. 

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie. 

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say. 

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.” 

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car. 

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave. 

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat. 

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings. 

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target. 

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication. 

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger. 

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap. 

“You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ‘man stuff?’”

“Something like that.” 

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and  plundered on. 

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences. 

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance. 

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution. 

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too. 

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat. 

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all. 

--

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[xflixer7]

all of my yellowjacket headcannons (so far)

word count is like a trillion ok i’m not counting all this

lottie

she/her transfem! lesbian bottom (try to convince me otherwise)

-schizophrenic

-definitely has some type of ocd

-ptsd

started playing soccer when she was little

will actually go insane is you steal any of her clothes if you look at her she will actually be drooling with heart eyes

this girl is french and is HORRIBLE at it

plays piano

also knows violin because her parents made her take it doesn’t play is anymore though

lottie isn’t jealous but very protective of you

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-phoebe bridgers

-tv girl

-faye webster

-clairo

-#1 laufey fan on the world

unironically knows every katy perry song by heart because she used to be her favorite when she was little

her room is huge

likes putting her hair in pigtails

golden retriever girlfriend she’s so sweet to you and loves to spend time and money on you you guys always stay at her house would literally kiss the ground you walk on if you asked her too:((

also the worst cooker you ever met like how did you fuck up toast why is the smoke alarm going off??

favorite color is blue

lottie definitely has a hairstylist she goes too every month to get permed and there really close i can see her telling them about ALL the school drama

lottie wants write story’s when she’s older maybe romance or mystery idk but i can just imagine her having a typewriter and writing you story’s she has wanted to do it since she was a kid and is very passionate about it:((

what i think her favorite shows are:desperate housewives,american horror story,sailer moon

time burton enthusiast

so scared of horror movie like she will start crying

her favorite characters are:

-emily (corpse bride)

-bree (desperate housewives)

-starfire (teen titans)

always goes on and on about how she’s bubblegum and your marceline she LOVES adventure time

her favorite movie is bridge to terabithia

lotties favorite animal is a bunny and she really wants a pet bunny

BEGS you to give her your bra and your confused but you give it too her and she makes a bracelet out of it and wears it practically every day proudly

also think that lottie is a great artist? like sketching and painting wise

nat

SAY IT WITH ME transmasc! (he/they) definitely bi and a bottom why? because i say so

-depressed

-dyslexic

-ptsd

started playing soccer in middle school

LOVES christmas like has an unhealthy obsession with it

northern italian knows the launage pretty well also a great cook

wants to play electric guitar

his favorite (modern!) singers are

-tyler the creator

-radiohead

-alex g

-motley crue

-is so obsessed with mistki don’t even get me started

randomly painted his room black one day when he was bored

usually prefers his hair down

you give him haircuts he doesn’t trust anyone else someone definitely fucked up his hair once and he never went back

he’s stubborn black cat energy but he can be soft sometimes he hates being vulnerable around you

his favorite color is black or gray

just wants to be famous tbh but he wants to be in a band

what i think his favorite shows are:rick and morty,bojack horseman,shameless

LOVES horror movies and reality tv like 90 day fiancé and the kardashions

also likes claymation

his favorite characters are

-ash (fantastic mr fox)

-sidney (i am not ok with this)

-coraline (coraline)

his favorite movie is little miss sunshine

nat’s favorite animal is a panther he saw one in the jungle book when he was little and just thought it looked cool

always headcannoing characters as trans like finn from adventure time or jeff from clarence he’s so cute:((

nat skateboards too definitely not great at it but does it when he’s bored

jackie

(she/her) is just a bratty pillow princess lesbian you can’t fool me

-adhd asf

-neurodivergent for sure

-ptsd

started playing soccer because she was bored eighth grade tbh i don’t think she likes it as much as the others but she thinks it’s fun

always takes your hoodies fact

this girl is a vegetarian for sure

jackie is greek which is shocking to everyone

jackie is jealous always period

hey gays ass button ups bro

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-ariana grande her fav

-rihanna

-billie eilish

-harry styles

-lana del ray

pretty mainstream music taste

all pink room it’s very like coquette?

ponytail girl but also enjoys her hair down

is obsessed with you like unhealthy obsession always needs to be around you

favorite color is light pink duh

jackie gets perms so she really doesn’t care who does her hair

wants to be a makeup guiro or just stay at home honestly she hates working

what i think her favorite shows are:euphoria, grays anatomy,glee

i think she likes very drama files shows and will rant about tv show characters and there dynamics and why she think that there like that and etc for HOURS

ughhh jackie is such a girls girl like she is the friend who always has your back and has gum or a tampon for you she is the friend who would check you on your period

her favorite characters are:

-maddy (euphoria)

-regina (mean girls)

-amy (gone girl)

her favorite movie is DEFINITELY jennifer’s body

jackie is a cat lover and has 2 i can see her with a orange and a gray cat and they always fight

shauna

DEFINITELY bi (she/her) and i could see her as a switch?

-bipolar

-ptsd

joined soccer with jackie eighth grade

has like thousands of boxers

russian

knows how to play saxophone (she doesn’t even know how she learned she just did) she doesn’t own one though

so jealous but never says anything (this girl cannot communicate to save her life)

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-the cranberries

was so mad when they got popular on tiktok and had to let everyone know they where her fav since day 1 (everyone knew)

-suki waterhouse

-cigarettes after sex

-never got over halsey since 2017

-lady gaga

she honestly doesn’t care how her room looks but it’s never clean

doesn’t do anything with her hair really

writes you notes about how she appreciates you or how much she loves you cause it’s hard for her to tell you how she feels but she loves you so much:((

green is her favorite color

shauna’s hair may seem simple but she’s VERY picky about how it’s cut and is always worried there gonna cut it bad so she gets it cut like twice a year(she always ends up hating it)

she wants to be some sort of doctorate she’s fascinated by the human body so i can see her wanting to be a surgeon

what i think her favorite shows are:good girls, queens gambit,13 reasons why

her favorite characters are:

-velma (chicago)

-cassie (euphoria)

-susanna (girl interrupted)

her favorite movie is chicago (loves musicals)

a simple gal she really likes dogs

taissa

she/her lesbian switch

-ptsd

joined soccer in fifth grade

mixed (duh)

used to be in the marching band

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-bruno mars

(screams when i was your man and grenade in her car way too much)

-frank ocean

-post malone

(also screams his songs in the car)

-has a soft spot for shawn mendas has all of his albums

-really enjoys 60’s music so she really likes elvis

her room is pretty big too not huge on decorating

doesn’t care about hair like at all will wear a headband sometimes

a good girlfriend like if your cold she will give you her jacket type she has a temper never jealous either girlfriend material she’s the type you would want your kid to date y’know?

respectful to adults gets good grades and stuff

her favorite color is brown and everyone is like that’s weird and she is trying to convince them like “no guys it’s pretty hear me ou-“

cuts her own hair thinks it’s overpriced and dumb to have someone professionally do it

tai wants to be something important like president or some shit i can see her being a lawyer

what i think her favorite shows are:the umbrella academy,big mouth,skins

tai only watches skins and euphoria type shows because she loves the drama

her favorite characters:

-hermoine (harry potter)

-patrick (perks of being a wallflower)

-nadine (edge of seventeen)

her favorite movie is the 6th harry potter movie she also thinks it’s the most underrated

she likes tigers

van

she/her and lesbian switch

-anxiety

-ptsd

joined soccer in sixth grade

irish

plays the trumpet but is kinda embarrassed by it

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-nicki manaj

-fiona apple

-tori amos

-girl in red duh

-david bowie

-was ziggy stardust for halloween when she was 8

posters EVERYWHERE can’t convince me her room is not painted red

doesn’t care about hair either puts in a ponytail to keep it out of her face

is a great girlfriend all the same traits as taissa except not the best at school she’s honestly surprised she graduated

favorite color is red

her uncle cuts her hair for like five bucks out of his garage also i definitely think she used to have a bowl cut when she was little

doesn’t really care about money she just wants to be happy wants to own a record store or be a professional soccer player

speaking of records she definitely has a lot of collections like lowkey a hoarder…but her stuff is cool though! like funky pops hat wheels cd’s records etc

what i think her favorite shows are:beavis and butthead, avatar, south park

mostly likes adult animation

her favorite characters are:

-harley (suicide squad)

-ron (harry potter)

-beast boy (teen titans)

her favorite movie is the bee movie or lego batman there cinematic masterpieces

van likes pigeons for not particular reason she just thinks there funny looking

i can see van as a surfer too like her dad definitely is one also i can imagine her being really close with her dad and they have a local family business bakery:((

misty

she/her and idk her position or sexually like i genuinely have no idea

-autistic

-ptsd

always wanted to be on the team but knew she was bad at sports

german definitely

her favorite (modern!) singers are

-boy genius

-the beatles

-justin bieber

-pink

-melanie martenz is her favorite forever

light purple room has justin bieber posters everywhere

lowkey forgets she has hair whenever people comment on it she’s like “oh yeah!”

very obsessive of you and loves you almost too much sometimes you think it’s creepy but than your like “awww she’s so cute”

loves the color yellow

i can see her being a k-pop stan too

(her bias in bts is j-hope)

also is a famous editer on tiktok and no one knows😭her username is like “gxxbflix” or some shit

literally has had one haircut in her life like it never grows?

i see her as a pharmacist

what i think her favorite shows are:walking dead,mlp,monster high

i just think she really enjoys getting into all types of fandoms

has SO many online friends

definitely loves romance anime

plays clarinet

is in band

favorite characters:

-cruella (cruella)

-alice (alice in wonderland)

-edward (edward sciccor hands)

and mistys favorite movie is alice through the looking glass (because it shows the queen of hearts back story and misty loves her)

and misty likes birds duh

those are my headcannons for them i know it’s a lot but i’m obsessed ok send requests if you have any please

-🙈

[themidnightarcher]

❛ ♡ INTRODUCTION POST ☕ ୧

↳ જ⁀➴ 🏹 ｡˚ “i want to do something splendid before i go into my castle--something heroic, or wonderful--that won't be forgotten after i'm dead. i don't know what, but i'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. i think i shall write books, and get rich and famous; that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream.” — JO MARCH, LITTLE WOMEN <33 (my absolute beloved!!)

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐎 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋❞

││↳ 🖇️ ⵌ . HI HELLO!! welcome to my page, i'm fatmata, 14 and a hopeless romantic - this is my blog (aka daily dose of cats, coffee and cynicism) but honestly you can consider this as my personal messy online diary which mostly consists of casual brainrots, miscellaneous shit, random incoherent thoughts or rambles, angry rants, online oversharing or any current hyperfixations or obsessions i have at the moment!! <33 my brain is chaotic and always seems to be all over the place (sorry for your sanity). i'm also INCREDIBLY self-indulgent, sentimental, full of suppressed rage and can become unhealthily attached to fictional characters so yeah that's that :)) 📄

│╰─────────── ·  ·  · ──────────

╰┈➤ [BASIC INFO] -> black • 🇸🇱/🇬🇧 • UK • 14 • student • INFJ, 8w7 • scorpio sun/moon • virgo rising • slytherin • casual swiftie • major coffee addict (me 🤝 lorelai & rory over being insane over coffee) • PROUD FEMINIST • avid reader • insomniac • CAT LOVER • sunset & sunrise enjoyer • autumn/spring stan • philosopher at heart • major english & history lover • middle child • team conrad • lalala girlie <33 (methinks) • horror movie enthusiast • HARDCORE MUSIC JUNKIE • replay the 'this is me trying' bridge more than the average person should 🤷‍♀️ • olivia rodrigo supporter • self-diagnosed pinterest whore • legally married to spotify • fashionista & lipgloss lover • certified rockstar gf • red nails enthusiast • midnights & rep girlie!! • BRATZ & MONSTER HIGH >>> • stationary shops adorer • freddie mcclair apologist FIRST, human second ♡ • probably (NO DEFINITELY) mentally unstable? • professional perfectionist, overthinker & teenage girl-er 24/7 • burnt out workaholic • suffer from an EXTREME case of gifted kid burnout, exam anxiety & identity crisis (so hey that's super fun!!)

╰┈➤ [MAJOR INTERESTS/HOBBIES] -> true crime ➝ listening to music ➝ reading ➝ playlist-making ➝ sociology ➝ media/character analysis ➝ english literature ➝ greek mythology ➝ dancing ➝ reading ➝ playing video games ➝ defending my beloved characters ➝ deep intellectual conversations ➝ watching greta gerwig films ➝ arts & crafts ➝ FASHION ➝ sleeping ALL day ➝ online shopping but never actually buying anything? ➝ researching random shit on the internet ➝ photography ➝ skincare ➝ crocheting ➝ cooking & baking ➝ studying ➝ writing in planners/organising journals ➝ going to stationary stores ➝ board games ➝ girlblogging ➝ maladaptive daydreaming ➝ scrolling on pinterest/tumblr for unhealthy amounts of time ➝ making moodboards ➝ etc. (but i also DESPERATELY want to learn the electric guitar because it's like the best instrument to ever exist?!)

my beloved freffy (bottom right corner) ILY TO DEATH, you deserved BETTER *sobbing while enraged*

╰┈➤ 🎧 [ARTISTS] -> taylor swift (OBVIOUSLY), lana del rey, olivia rodrigo, gracie abrams, conan gray, sabrina carpenter, beabadoobee, maisie peters, mitski, cigarettes after sex, sza, the weeknd, beyonce, kanye west, reneé rapp, ABBA, melanie martinez, tv girl, marina, doja cat, the smiths, queen, nirvana, rihanna, ariana grande, tyler the creator, adele, lorde, mac demarco, phoebe bridgers, avril lavinge, boygenius, laufey, suki waterhouse, fiona apple, clairo, billie eilish, madison beer, tate mcrae, steve lacy, kali uchis, girl in red, lizzy mcalpine, arctic monkeys, radiohead, mazzy star, coldplay, ricky montgomery, harry styles, chase atlantic, the neighborhood, roar, alex g, pinkpantheress & more!!

╰┈➤ 📖 [BOOKS] -> (ok so one thing you should understand is that i've never actually read half of these before but ANYWHO these are books i'm hoping to read in the late future so i guess they still count?? so consider this as my reading list. i'll cross them out once i've finished them!!)

better than the movies | agggtm | percy jackson | the hunger games | osemanverse | book lovers | i kissed shara wheeler | the seven husbands of evelyn hugo | daisy jones & the six | fourth wing | the atlas six | girl in pieces | the inheritance games | six of crows | we were liars | these violent delights | acotar | if we were villains | it ends with us | normal people | people we meet on vacation | ice breaker | where the crawdads sing | you deserve each other

╰┈➤ 🎬 [TV SHOWS/FILM] -> skins, gilmore girls, bridgerton, derry girls, ladybird, little women (2019), tsitp, barbie (2023), anne with an e, twilight, stand by me (1986), the breakfast club (1985) the edge of seventeen, boyz n the hood (1991), red white and royal blue, ten things i hate about you, thirteen (2003), girl interrupted, thg, gossip girl, heartstopper, clueless, legally blonde, [2000s chic rom-com teen girlie movies have me in a severe life-threatening chokehold, send help], outerbanks, never have i ever, sex education, etc. and MANY MORE 🫶🏾🫶🏾

╰┈➤ [+ CHARACTERS] -> JO MARCH, hermione granger, edward cullen, pippa fitz-amobi, ravi singh, rory gilmore, lorelai gilmore, lane kim, anne shirley, mulan, katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, freddie mcclair, effy stonem, cam cameron, devi vishwakumar, nadine franklin, nick nelson, allison reynolds, kat stratford, max mayfield, tracy freeland, conrad fisher, liz buxbaum, wes bennet, peter parker, alex claremont-diaz, georgia nicholson, sidney prescott + MUCH MORE

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐘, "𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 ❞

ִ ࣪ ⟡ ִ ۫ ִ 🕯️ ── ꒱ ◠ 🎹 ۫ ִ ۫⊹

ִ ࣪𖤐 currently reading agggtm, (re) watching skins (uk) and listening to i wish you roses (kali uchis) <33

ִ ࣪𖤐 i tend to mostly post or reblog lots and lots of art, music, history, fashion, taylor swift, FREFFY, scene aes, pop culture, food, lifestyle, fanfiction, poetry, classic literature, shakespeare, greek mythology, coquette/downtown girl aesthetic, gilmore girls, whispers, gifs, moodboards, original posts, whatever fandom i'm in, etc. overall just WHATEVER seems to catch my eye at the given moment!!

╰┈➤ DNI - racists, terfs/radfems, AGEISTS, proshippers, ableists, ED-promoting blogs, pedophiles, bigots, empty blogs (y'all might be bots or smth), gaylors/kaylors, ceffy shippers (BIASED), mean girls, zoophiles, joe alwyn haters, anti-palestinians, misandrists/misogynists, antisemitics, fatphobes, islamophobes, homophobics, transphobes, xenophobes, etc. and ANYONE ELSE who fits into that majority → 🚪(especially creeps who want to do any 'freaky' shit with me??)

❝ 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❞

╰┈➤ MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED!! - @catastrxblues, @sparksssflytv, @youronlymagnolia, @svnflowermoon, @i-miss-you-im-sorry, @stvrlighhttt, @halucynator, @nqds, @alltheliars, @tooinlovetothinkstraight14, @diorgirl444, @stvrlighhttt, @urgirlnextdoorr, @girlfailing, @shefollowedthestars, @wntrrdoll, @weeping-in-the-willows, @skeelly, @reminiscentreader, @isitoversnowtvs, @jewelledmoths, @moonanditstars, @french-toadt, @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies, @christmasslights, @urapocolypticcrush, @cottoncandywhispers, @lost-in-reveriie, @folklore-girl, @betteroffnowthatwedonttalk, @theladyinwhite13, @iwanttomarrynoahshaw, @emailsicntsend, @someones-name-insterted-here, @astraeasparrow, @evermore-4-life - ILY TO THE MOON AND TO SATURN 🪐 (let's all get married and live in the forest together fr)

┕ » • » i’d love to make more friends, feel free to ask or message me!! inbox is always open - PLEASE come say hi, i literally don’t mind at all! ꒱ྀི « ━━━┙

NOW PLAYING: PEOPLE WATCHING - CONAN GRAY‎ — ♬

01:23 ━━━━●───── 02:38

↺ ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤ↻ ☆

★₊˚﹟' CREATED BY @ [--- #THEMIDNIGHTARCHER ]

[watermelonsugacry]

Y/ns insta post idea for harrys house anniv…

She would post a reel of all the cute behind the scenes moments of the album recorded on film camera or her phone...h and her getting all domestic and how the album was made in the quarantine…

She would actually make a piano acoustic mashup just for this occasion including all the songs from the album..and post it on the reel!!💕😍

she definitely would!! here are some of the clips she would include:

There would be a clip of YN from behind as she rides her bike. They're riding along their private villa down through the beautiful greenery where grapes grow. She adorns in a flowy sundress and her hair waves softly behind her.

Harry's in the recording booth at YN's home studio, clad in a white tank top that nicely shows off all his tattoos and tanned skin. After pushing one side of the studio headphones behind his ear, he squints his eyes shut and his nose scrunches up as he hits a high note.

Loads of small clips of the production team dancing in her home studio: While Tyler messes with the various sliders on her huge studio console, Harry frames his face with his hands with an over-emotional look on his face. The next one is of Kid and Harry shimmying on an uncomfortable-looking Mitch (who still manages to break out into a laugh). Another plays of YN on her knees, leaning back as she dramatically plays the air guitar in the middle of the room.

When the team was in Italy, YN records from her spot seated at the outside patio table as they all raise and click together their glasses of wine.

YN has her phone propped up on one of the music sheet stands as she's in the recording booth. The microphone covers a bit of her face from the way the camera is angled and she has a pair of chunky studio headphones on. She pulls away from the mesh-covered microphone, her gaze set on the people behind the glass as her nose scrunches up in a giggle.

Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, YN slightly peaks her phone over the top of the romance novel she's reading to Harry. They sit facing each other, her bare legs lay over his as they indulge in some reading. He's only dressed in loose shorts, leaving his top half have delicately bare. Too engrossed in his own book to notice, he continues to softly caress her shins with one hand as the other holds up his paperback.

In the passenger seat, YN records the side view mirrors. She captures how her hair gets pushed back from the wind, Harry's yellow sunglasses sit on the bridge of her nose, and the sea beside the highway is seen in the background.

With her film camera propped up, she pushes Harry to stand in front of their house in Italy. But before she can go to her spot behind the camera, he pulls her back to him for a kiss. She's quickly pulling back as giggles tumble past her lips from how ticklish his mustache is. He doesn't let up his grip on her though as he continues to pepper kisses over her cheeks and neck.

Sitting in the recording room together, YN records Mitch from her spot on the floor. After taking a hit, he passes the blunt back to her. When he stands back up-right, he adjusts his studio headphones, playfully flips her off before he begins to play his electric guitar. Only her hand comes into view, showing off her middle finger back to him as she aggressively shakes the camera.

Tyler, Kid, Mitch, and Harry all move around YN's kitchen as they whip up breakfast. Everyone crowds around each other as they all gather and pass around plates, cereal boxes, and hot pans.

Harry records his love from his spot on the couch in her living room in LA. YN sits on her knees before him with black gloves on and a tattoo gun in hand. He captures how she pinches her brows together in concentration as she writes the word oui above his knee before wiping away the excess ink with a paper towel.

The last clip that plays is a bit longer than the rest. The five of them (Tyler, Mitch, Harry, YN and Kid) sit in front of the studio panel as they have the final listen of the completed album. When Love Of My Life finishes, they all look at one another in accomplishment. YN pulls the end of her sleeve over her hand and wipes away the happy tears that had run down her cheeks before standing up with the rest of the team to hug everyone.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

[lacyscabinet]

not sure if this is a specific enough request but like Natalie being a guitar player ( mostly electric) 🎸

UUUU I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! Also thanks for the request, I hope you'll like this little headcanon I wrote <3

MASTERLIST

Okay so as we all know Natalie is not in the best parental/financial situation

So she had to work HARD to get her guitar

Even after saving up enough money to buy it, she tried to self-taught how to play it

LET'S JUST SAY SHE WAS A NATURAL

After mastering her guitar skills she asked her closest friends to create a band

AND THEY ABSOLUTELY ROCK

The band even finds a bar where they can play and earn some money

And in said bar, she sees you

You're sitting at a table in a corner talking to your friend and enjoying the music

She keeps staring at you and getting distracted

AH, LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT THEY SAY

After their set, she climbs off the stage and makes her way up to your table

Your friend long gone with a dude she just met

And there you and Nat start talking

Only a matter of months and constant dates and you two are officially together

She makes sure that you always have a nice seat at her shows

She would definitely make shootouts at you from the stage

"Next song is for someone really special, my y/n, this is for you babe"

(also she feels like a total rockstar after that)

(you just blush, hiding your face in your hands feeling everyone's eyes on you)

At the end of the show, she climbs off the stage and kisses you

(again, she gets a pump of adrenaline during the kiss)

She often lets you backstage

To help her get ready or have a small pre-show make out session

Speaking of sessions

She often has a smoking sesh before and after her shows

And she is happy to have you doing it with her if you're up to it

Nat absolutely loves writing songs about you

She could stay hours at her desk scribbling verses and bridges about how much she loves you

Once you two had a fight

And you were MAD at her

And Nat not knowing how to deal with that, simply wrote the most raw, heart wrenching and heartfelt apology song you'll ever hear

And you were both so emotional when she played it for you

Let's just say that she was forgiven

Okay so as we all know Natalie is not in the best parental/financial situation

So she had to work HARD to get her guitar

Even after saving up enough money to buy it, she tried to self-taught how to play it

LET'S JUST SAY SHE WAS A NATURAL

After mastering her guitar skills she asked her closest friends to create a band

AND THEY ABSOLUTELY ROCK

The band even finds a bar where they can play and earn some money

And in said bar, she sees you

You're sitting at a table in a corner talking to your friend and enjoying the music

She keeps staring at you and getting distracted

AH, LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT THEY SAY

After their set, she climbs off the stage and makes her way up to your table

Your friend long gone with a dude she just met

And there you and Nat start talking

Only a matter of months and constant dates and you two are officially together

She makes sure that you always have a nice seat at her shows

She would definitely make shootouts at you from the stage

"Next song is for someone really special, my y/n, this is for you babe"

(also she feels like a total rockstar after that)

(you just blush, hiding your face in your hands feeling everyone's eyes on you)

At the end of the show, she climbs off the stage and kisses you

(again, she gets a pump of adrenaline during the kiss)

She often lets you backstage

To help her get ready or have a small pre-show make out session

Speaking of sessions

She often has a smoking sesh before and after her shows

And she is happy to have you doing it with her if you're up to it

Nat absolutely loves writing songs about you

She could stay hours at her desk scribbling verses and bridges about how much she loves you

Once you two had a fight

And you were MAD at her

And Nat not knowing how to deal with that, simply wrote the most raw, heart wrenching and heartfelt apology song you'll ever hear

And you were both so emotional when she played it for you

Let's just say that she was forgiven

A/N: I hope you enjoyed !!! stay tuned for more content <3

[hawkins-losers]

Private guitar lessons | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary:  You can’t pick up how to play guitar, so Eddie tries a new way to teach you

Word count: 1.2k

Warning: smut, foreplay, no actual sex but it’s hot

-

You watched intently Eddie’s fingers moved rapidly and skillfully on the fret-board, acing the Master of Puppets solo. The first glide down the neck alone had made your core tighten, and it got only higher as he continued to play. 

You didn’t want to be one of those groupies who salivate at any guitarists and want to jump their bones, but you’d be a liar if you said your panties didn’t begin to dampen from watching your boyfriend play. It wasn’t only the hands. The sound of the electric guitar went straight to your core.

When Eddie and his band played at the local bar, he would purposely tease you, knowing how it made you feel. He’d sometimes lock eyes too, which was a ticket straight to the back of his van after he’d get off stage. 

The solo came to an end and Eddie winked at you, noticing you shifting on the bed. ‘’Do I make you horny, baby?’’ 

‘’Yes,’’ you replied boldly. ‘’How did you learn that so fast? The album came out less than two weeks ago.’’

‘’It’s a pretty hard solo to learn, but I haven't slept these past two days so I had time to kill.’’ 

The no-sleep situation worried you, but that was a conversation for later. Right now, 

‘’Look at you learning a difficult solo in two nights and me struggling to play three chords…’’

‘’Maybe we can find another way to teach you?’’ He patted the space before him, motionning for you to come and sit. ‘’See your body like a guitar’s neck.’’

‘’Eh, Eddie-’’

‘’Trust me with this, okay? We have six strings,’’ he began, already confusing the hell out of you since his guitar was by the bed. ‘’The ‘E’ string.’’ Eddie leaned and kissed the top of your right shoulder. ‘’And ‘A’.’’ Your collarbone down to the top of your breast, which was peaking from your shirt. His tongue lapped at your breast, teeth sinking into the soft skin. 

Your mouth parted in a slight ‘o’, getting the gist of what he was doing. If this ended the same way anatomy studying ended, you won’t be keeping a lot of information. 

‘’Then we got ‘D’.’’ He went up to the side of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses where an old hickey had begun fading. 

Your hand found the back of his head, burying your fingers in his hair, trying to make the moment last. 

‘’And ‘G’.’’ Right on the other side of your neck. ‘’The ‘B’.’’ He went down to your other breast, giving it just as much attention, then moved to your left shoulder. ‘’And the other ‘E’.’’ Eddie flicked his eyes to yours, catching the glint of lust in them. ‘’You get that, sweetheart?’’

You nodded. 

That was the easy part. Playing the chords and making it sound right was where you struggled. It always made a strangling noise every time you pressed a string down. 

‘’Then, we got the frets. The spacing gets smaller as we go down and some of them have dots on them. So, we got ‘3’.’’ He kissed between your eyebrows. ‘’Then ‘5’.’’ The bridge of your nose, making you giggle and scrunch your nose. It tickled. ‘’We got ‘7’-’’

''I know where ‘7’ is,'' you cut in, kissing Eddie right on the lips, beating him to it.

A proud grin spread on the brunet's lips. ‘’Quick learner, aren’t you.’’ 

His nose brushed against yours and you wrapped an arm at the back of his neck, playing with the chain that was hidden beneath his shirt. ‘’That’s because I have the best teacher.’’

Eddie chuckled deeply. ‘’Back to the lesson; we got '9'.’’ He tilted your chin up with his thumb and index, making room to kiss the column of your throat. You gasped, feeling the pressure of his lips on your larynx. It wasn’t strong enough to restrict air flow, but just enough to make your breath hitch as he sucked and lingered. ‘’For the next one we're gonna take that off, okay?’’ 

You felt a pull at your shirt, passing it over your head. The cool air of the room hit you suddenly, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Then, he guided you down on the bed, making it more practical for the rest of the lesson. 

Laying there, half naked on Eddie’s bed, you felt like a puppet. A puppet offered to him, for him to play with, kiss and tease.

You watched him swing a leg over your hips, straddling you. You kept your hands at your sides, refraining the envy to crawl your hands up his thighs and pull at his belt buckle. As much as you wanted him, this foreplay was not too bad. In fact, it was very erotic.

‘’Next, we got '12', which is the first fret that got two dots.’’ 

His deep brown eyes connected with yours as he slid his hand under your back. You arched it in response, giving him room, and he skillfully unhooked your bra, slipping it off of your body and exposing your breasts. 

Behind him, the bedroom door was wide open, meaning if Eddie’s uncle walked in, he would see you. You didn’t know how to feel about that. Wayne wasn’t a pervert, but Eddie would surely get a scolding from his uncle. He knew you were having sex - the bra he saw on his nephew’s bed was a storyteller itself, but you doubted he wanted to walk in on you engaging in some dirty guitar lessons.

Another gasp left your mouth as Eddie flattened his tongue over your nipple, then captured the bud between his lips. ‘’Eddie.’’

‘’We got ‘15'.’’ He kissed right under your breasts. ‘’Then '17'.’’ His lips traveled down, right under your rib-cage. ‘’And '19'.’’ He kissed right under your belly button, making your hips buck. He was so close, yet so far from where you wanted him.

A smug chuckle echoed in the room, liking how your body responded to his touch. 

He held your gaze as he unbuttoned and slipped off your pants.

The bed creaked as Eddie removed himself from you, taking position between your legs instead. He gently kissed your bare knee, just because he could.  ‘’Do you know where ‘21’ is, sweetheart?’’

You didn't bother thinking, simply shaking your head. 

You watched him dip between your legs, thinking he was going to kiss your…other lips, but instead, you felt them on your clothed pelvis, making your stomach clench. Your back arched at his touch, only for his palms to flatten you to the bed. 

This guitar lesson was turning into torture. 

‘’Eddie,’’ you whined - again. ‘’Please.’’ 

‘’Lesson’s not over, yet. We got one last fret, ‘24’.’’ His large hands crawling up the expanse of your thighs, the callouses of his fingers scratching lightly at your delicate skin, slowly making their way up. You almost let out another whine, but a moan came out instead, feeling Eddie’s lips on the inside of your thighs, dangerously close to your groin. 

‘’I think that's enough learning for today,’’ you decided. ‘’Lessons’s over. Take your clothes off.’’ 

Eddie looked up from your legs, grinning broadly. ‘‘Yes, M’am.’‘ 

The next minutes were spent chanting Eddie's name as his fingers moved with dexterity inside you.

What they said about guitarists was true: they're better with their fingering. Unlike average people, their fingers have built up strength, so they don’t get cramped or tired as quickly. They know rhythm, can be fast with their hands and have great hand-eye coordination.

After your second orgasm, you laid on your back, completely spent and breathless. 

‘’This is better than the donkey and the elephants tip,’’ you pointed, making Eddie laugh out loud.

-

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn  

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss

[higgssupremacy]

Where did Higgs get his electric guitar? Did he find her? Bought?

(dear Sam Porter Bridges, sorry to interrupt you, but my dear mom is on death's door and wants me to play her some Van Halen riffs so she can go to heaven - would you be kind as to deliver me the cargo I ordered from the Musician? Available Order: Exquisite Design Guitar +String Set Sincerely yours, Peter Englert)

Did he come up with it and put it together himself? With a soldering iron and electric batteries?

(everyone around him hid for a month and tried not to show himself to him; there was a lot of swearing and throwing objects)

Found in ruins?

(shining. red. my precious)

Oh. So many questions, so nothing answers

[yourtouchismidas]

When Matty does meet Gigi’s crush, the conversation of music comes up. Turns out he’s in a band with his mates and asks to play Matty some demos. And Matty listens and thinks “…. This is actually very good” and then they get on after that

so this will follow on from this blurb and this blurb.

matty is pacing. the boy will be here any minute. the boy and his precious little girl. he's played his song, stay away from my daughter you shit, to the guys, and they told him he absolutely must not play it at dinner. but he keeps looking at his guitar. he could. he could just not play nice. he could do everything you, gigi and his bandmates have warned him not to do. he could tower over this kid and tell him, hurt my daughter and i will hurt you.

instead, when gigi comes in the front door with him, all sheepish, he doesnt do that. he smiles politely. he holds out his hand to shake the boy's. he makes a point to hug gigi tightly, to kiss her on the forehead, to then look at the boy as if to say, "this is how much i love her okay, this is how much i care." the little girls all swarm around him, handing him toys and asking him questions and he distracts himself by picking up a twin and blowing a raspberry on her stomach while she squeals, then turning her round to see exactly which twin it is. stevie.

"sorry," he says to the boy, "it's a mad house in here."

the boy laughs, "i like it. i'm an only child," he takes a toy from lexie and wiggles it in front of her face.

matty says, "hm," and nods at him. he's not being friendly until this boy earns it. he disappears into the kitchen to finish cooking, while you make talk nicely to the boy and ask him about school. matty stirs spaghetti and listens to make sure this kid doesnt say anything out of line.

valley is standing beside him for a long time before he even notices. he jumps when he sees her and she grins.

"do you need help, daddy?"

"no baby go play."

"i dont want to," she says, "i want to make spaghetti sauce."

"why?"

"i'm not used to having a boy here," she says, almost shuddering, "feels... odd."

matty laughs, "i love you my girl. okay go get me the tomatoes from the fridge."

"will you let me chop then?"

"haha, absolutely not," matty says.

matty manages to be pleasant the whole way through dinner. he smiles at gigi, to let her know everything is okay, and to be honest, the boy seems nice. matty looks at gigi, he thinks about being on stage, about singing ruins for the first time, about running to the hospital afterwards, about seeing gigi, wrinkled and small and screaming, about the warmth of her laying on his bare chest. he doesnt finish his dinner.

when everyone else is watching tv/playing afterwards, matty excuses himself to put the twins down and get valley in pjs before sending her back downstairs. he pauses at the top of the stairs, about to follow, and then instead he slides into his music room. he has loads of messages on his phone from the guys, hows it going, whats he like, gigi okay?

he doesnt answer them. he picks up a guitar and starts plucking, quietly, so you dont hear and tell him to stop being anti social. he plucks the bridge of ruins. the only thing about us that's easy is love

suddenly there is a noise and he looks up. gigi's boy is here, wide eyed and slightly scared.

"oh sorry, i thought this was the bathroom."

matty smiles at him, "down the hall kid," he says.

"oh my god, that guitar is sick."

"right?" matty says, and explains where he got it, and how rare it is.

"i'm so jealous," gigi's boy says.

"you play?"

"yeah electric, acoustic and bass," he says.

matty nods, impressed. "got all of those here," he says, gesturing to where his instruments hang on the walls. gigi's boy looks around, awed.

"this is SO cool!" he says.

matty finds himself smiling.

"i'm in a band, you know," the boy says suddenly, quietly, shy.

"yeah?"

"yeah. me and a few mates from school."

"gigi didnt tell me that."

"we asked her to be in it," the boy says, babbling, "cos she's wicked on the drums. but also because you know, i've had this big fat crush on her since i've known her and it would be a good way to like, get to know her, but she said no, she said she'd rather i take her out for ice cream instead. she's so confident. i love that."

matty is smiling. the boy is blushing. he presses his lips together.

"i'll go find the bathroom," he says. "thanks for letting me see the guitar"

"what kind of music?" matty says. gigi's boy pauses and then turns. "does your band play?"

"erm, indie rock."

"sweet," matty says. "you written anything yet."

"erm," the boy says, and wiggles his phone out his pocket. "there's this. we recorded it the other day."

the song is called crush. matty listens. he hears the mistakes. the bum notes. the bits where the band aren't in sync. but other than that, it's good. for fifteen year olds, its more than good.

"that's... good mate. that's really good."

the boy grins, "really?"

"you write it?"

"i'm the main songwriter. yeah."

"yeah. not half bad at all. you guys should come jam with me and my band sometime."

"no way?!" the boy says, "really?"

"yeah. get gi to set it up."

"okay. no way. awesome!"

there is a pause and then matty says, "dont you need to piss?"

"erm. yes. yes sir. thank you," and then he is gone.

matty replays his song in his head. the lyrics. crush. it's obviously about gigi. its sickly. its sweet. it's a teenage boy crush. its him. years and years ago in ross' garage, crushing on some girl and writing about it.

he's written a song about gigi and now someone else has too. she's not just a muse. she's a fire cracker. a genius. a person. he knows that. but he also knows that if this guy likes her enough to write a song like that about her, the way he did with a teenage crush years ago, then maybe, just maybe, he's alright.

[ctitan98official]

Y/N teaching Donna how to play electric guitar

Y/N: So now that we’ve gone over a few chords, we should talk about some of these knobs and switches.

Donna: *Nods*

Y/N: So if I push this switch all the way down it changes which pick up is in use. This is the bridge pick up and it gives the guitar a brighter tone, usually for guitar solos.

Donna: *Very interested*

Y/N: Since you’re just starting out, let’s switch this all the way up to the rhythm pick up. It’s better for chords and rhythm guitar.

Donna: Y/N, wait.

Donna: *Shoves the switch all the way down to the bridge pick up*

Y/N: *Confused* Oh, did you want to see how it sounds agai-

Donna: *Rips into “Through the Fire and Flames” by DragonForce*

Y/N: *Surprised Pikachu face*

Donna: *Ends the song* Mama didn’t raise no bitch, cara mia <3 *kisses Y/N’s cheek*

Y/N: *Immediately drops down on one knee* Will you marry me?!

Masterlist

[moonhoures]

piano lessons

pairing: jay (enhypen) + reader (fem.)

genre: non-idol!au, (kind of?) college!au, fluff, meet cute

warnings: none!

word count: ~2.3K

synopsis: working at a music shop has its perks, like meeting cute boys who can play guitars 🤭🎸

a/n: my first fic back!! woohoo!! i hope you guys like this, i only read through it twice, so there might be some proofreading mistakes. please forgive me 😇 enjoy! 🫶🏻

a/n: for reference, this fic is heavily inspired by these tiktoks [ tiktok #1 & tiktok #2 ] and [ this ] is the song jay is playing 👍🏻

posted: july 13, 2023

Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were usually the slowest days at your job. You worked at the local music retail shop, spending most of your shifts just cashing people out, organizing instruments and equipment, or re-alphabetizing the store’s music catalog. It didn’t pay that well, but it was enough to keep you busy and get you through college.

On most days it was fine; the only real downside being dealing with older people who didn’t understand some logistics of the instruments or the younger know-it-alls that tried to mansplain the equipment you sold daily. Another downside was having to listen to people tune the instruments to their liking and/or play them awkwardly in the middle of the store.

You understood why they did it; they just want to get a feel for the instruments they want to buy. But most people either were beginners who played awfully or intermediate players who didn’t play nearly as good as they thought they did. After almost a year of working at your location, you had gotten used to the sound of the store’s center speakers being hooked up to various instruments while people tested out the sound quality or other logistics of their instruments. Today was no different.

You were in the middle of organizing some invoices at the register on a late, gloomy Tuesday afternoon in the middle of September. The faint buzz of the center speakers humming to life on the other side of the store caught your attention, but you went back to focusing on your task at hand. There was only a handful of people in the store at the moment, so it was pretty quiet aside from the very soft jazz music emitting from the speakers in the corners of the store.

After a moment of peace, the center speakers crackled. You prepared to be annoyed for the next five to ten minutes by some young kid about to play some Nirvana riff very amateurishly. However, you were surprised when the opposite happened. A single, short, sweet strum on an electric guitar rang through the shop. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud, just enough so that you could hear it from across the room. You didn’t recognize the melody that soon followed, but it was pleasant to your ears.

It was a very relaxed, R&B sound. The sound was so calming. It fit perfectly with the gray clouds and drizzling rain outside the shop. Like a soundtrack to a movie scene. You decided you had to see who this talented musician was.

You picked up a vinyl that needed to be put back in that area, and decided to use that as your excuse to go be nosey. Throughout your walk there you noticed that the elderly couple you had seen earlier was now gone, leaving very few patrons left. There was one guy who seemed to be in his mid-40’s browsing through the CD collections. And there was a high school-aged girl looking through the magazines by the door. Other than that, it was just you and your mystery guitar player.

The soulful music continued to play, growing louder as you got closer to the source. You turned the corner of the shelf just behind the speakers that the music was coming from. Your eyes travelled up to see a boy about your age. You were getting a somewhat side profile of him, but he was admittedly very handsome.

He had black hair that looked soft and untouched by the rain from outside. Rimless glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. His jawline looked as though it was sculpted by an artist. He wore average-looking clothes—khaki pants, dark blue graphic t-shirt, unbuttoned denim shirt, and converse. One of his ears were covered by the chunky headphones he brought with him, presumably listening to the song he was trying to play. You found it odd that he wasn’t using sheet music, like most people did. Perhaps he played better by ear?

The sound of the bell above the door ringing made you jump, but it was only the high school girl leaving. You clutched the vinyl in your hand, remembering that that’s what you were supposed to be doing: finding it’s home. You turned to the shelf beside you, thumbing through the albums until you found the spot you needed. The albums thumped to one side as you slid the vinyl into place before they were pushed gently back together in harmony.

It seemed the song was coming to an end, so you stood in place as the boy wrapped up the tune he was playing so elegantly. When he finished, he started inspecting the tuning pegs on the guitar in his lap. Your feet were moving before your brain could stop them. The inside of your throat felt like it was closing, but you still somehow managed to speak.

Softly, you praised him, “That was amazing.”

Dread filled your body when he didn’t so much as even look at you. Nothing signaled that he heard you, so you cleared your throat and tried again. Only this time, you took another step closer to him.

“That was amazing,” you repeated a bit louder than before.

This time he heard you, his head whipping around as if you startled him. You quickly apologized, but he shook his head.

“No, you’re fine. I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I just said that was amazing, what you played. You’re really talented.”

“Oh,” maybe it was your imagination, but it looked like the lobe of his ear was turning red. His foot fidgeted on the bar at the bottom of the stool he sat on. The fluorescent lighting in the shop casted a white glare on the edge of his glasses when he looked at you, but you could still see his brown eyes clear as day, “Thanks.”

“Was it yours?”

“Was what mine?”

“The song,” you busied yourself by picking up the sheet music left behind by previous patrons of the day and putting them back in the folder where your boss kept them. He reached up and moved the headphones down from his ears to rest around his neck.

“No,” he shook his head, “It’s a Frank Ocean song. Have you heard of him?”

“I can’t say I have,” you confessed, “But it was a beautiful song. I’ll have to look it up later so I can get the full experience of it.”

“You should. The, uh, album that it’s from is great. It’s called Blonde,” he continued to twist and tune the pegs at the end of the guitar’s neck. His fingers were proficient and gentle; you assumed that was from years of skill crafting.

“How long have you played guitar for?”

“About 5 years?” his face expressed that he was trying to recall the moment he started.

“Wow, I figured you might be a prodigy or something. You sound like a seasoned player.”

Now his ears were definitely red; there was no way it was a trick of your mind. The same rosy color also looked like it was spreading across the apples of his cheeks. His lips twitched from holding back the bashful smile that wanted to appear. He adjusted himself on his seat, getting a better grip on the instrument in his lap, “Thank you, but I’m no prodigy. Do you play anything?”

“I took a few piano lessons when I was little,” you shrugged, fingertips mindlessly and quietly tapping on top of the speaker in front of you. An almost silent hum still thrummed from it, “But I don’t play much anymore.”

“Well, if you’d like some lessons in the near future, I know a guy who’d be willing to teach you for free,” he spoke as he stood from the stool and carefully placed the Paul Reed Smith guitar back on its stand a few feet away.

“For free? Is he doing volunteer work or something?” you teased, eyes accidentally meeting his as he returned to pick up his keys from the stand he left them on. The same stand that held the speaker you were previously tapping on. You wanted to look away, but his eyes almost held you in their gaze.

“No, but he doesn’t mind teaching pretty girls like you.”

Your breath hitched for a second, and heat rushed into your cheeks. Was he seriously hitting on you? More importantly, was it working? You had to avert your eyes.

“Oh,” you mentally kicked yourself when the shy smile took over your lips, “Does he live around here? I might consider, if he’s not too far.”

“He lives in college town actually. Are you familiar with it?” his keys made a jingling noise as he swiftly slipped them into the back pockets of his pants. You watched with a twinkle in your eye as he used the same hand to carelessly card his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, it’s not too far from me actually. Does this guy know Frank Ocean’s music too? I think I’d like to hear some of that on the piano,” you said, walking alongside him as he started to walk towards the front of the store. The rain was still coming down, barely. The droplets were sparse, but the gray clouds remained, just as dark and gloomy as ten minutes ago, “I like the R&B sound of it.”

“I’m sure he’d love to play some R&B music for you on his piano,” he smirked a little, secretly loving this back-and-forth with you. He didn’t want it to end, but he did have plans with his friends soon, “I think he knows one or two Frank Ocean songs.”

“That’s good. Well, this guy sounds decent. Do you have his number? I’ll have to send him a text to set up a piano lesson with him.”

He nodded, so you took the few steps over to the front desk, pulling a notepad and pen out from next to the register. You tore the top sheet off that had scribbles of invoice numbers and customer information. Then you handed the pad and pen to him, folding the torn paper in your hands as you watched him jot down the phone number for you. He handed it back, and you carefully tore that paper out too before slipping it into your pocket where your phone rested.

“Thanks,” you walked him to the door, only now realizing that you were the only two people left in the shop. Were you really that wrapped up in this boy to notice the older guy leaving? Did he really captivate you that much? You supposed he did.

He pushed the door open, stepping out onto the sidewalk, “I guess I’ll see you around then.”

Some little voice in the back of your mind let out a sigh, expressing its disappointment of his departure. Another voice in there exclaimed a reminder to you.

“Wait!” you called out, causing the dark-haired boy to turn back towards you. He was already yards away, but you could still tell the weather was starting to make his glasses fog up, “You never told me this guy’s name.”

He smiled again, “It’s Jay. Sorry.”

You nodded in understanding, and he stopped you before you could go back inside.

“What’s your name? I should probably let him know so he can expect your text,” he reasoned, his hands burying themselves in the pockets of his denim shirt. The heel of his converse scuffed the wet concrete as he shifted his foot nervously.

“_________.”

Now he was the one nodding, “Got it. I’ll tell him to look out for a text from ________, the pretty music shop girl.”

“Thanks a lot,” you waved him off, the smile on your lips refusing to leave even after the door closed behind you. Even after a glance out the door confirmed he was so far down the sidewalk that he was now out of sight. You hummed that melodic tune he played to yourself as you started to think of what tasks still needed to be done. You had the whole shop all to yourself, and there was still a couple hours left until closing.

You decided to hijack the store’s AUX, hooking up your phone. You went to your music player, typing in ‘Blonde’ and picking the first option that came up. You let the album play from the top, immediately nodding your head along to the beat that began to play. He has good music taste, you thought to yourself.

For the remainder of your shift, you enjoyed the music playing. The store had no more customers after he left, which made for a quick and easy closing. The rain was done by the time you were locking up, which you were thankful for. Once you got to your car, you pulled your phone from your pocket along with the written digits pressed against it.

You debated acting on your thoughts so soon, but decided to do so anyway. Your fingertips tapped against your keyboard swiftly, typing the phone number into the messaging app. The cursor blinked as you thought of what to say. It took a minute or two, but you finally sent a message you deemed good enough.

you: hi, is this jay? a friend of mine said you could give me free piano lessons, is that true?

jay: is this _______?

you: it is 😊

jay: well, i have some good news and bad news

you: okay…

jay: i can give you piano lessons, but they won’t be free

you: oh, okay. what’s your price, then?

jay: for first lessons, it’ll cost you one dinner date at any local restaurant of your choosing. is that within your budget?

you: i think i can make that work. is saturday okay with you?

jay: saturday is perfect, actually!

you: cool, i’ll update you when i decide what restaurant we’ll go to 👍🏻

jay: sounds good 😊 have a good night, _______

you: goodnight, jay 🌙

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a like, reblog, and/or a message in my inbox! i would love to hear your feedback! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

💌 taglist: @jaylaxies @boba-beom @bruh-changbin @bluesoobinnie

[ join my taglists here ]

[lizandbo]

Cuddling hcs w/ underrated bnha bois

these men need some more loving:(

shoji

just fucking look at him

hes a work of art:D

but he got six fucking arms

ofc he gonna be the best cuddler out of all people

he wraps you with all his arms and your now a burrito

when you guys are in bed snuggling with each other he loves to morph a hand into a mouth and kiss yuor hand all the way until he arrives at your neck

most likely hes spooning you or forking you

but if you wanna do it to him then youll prolly jet packing him

a weird thing he does is slip a finger onto your nose

like down the bridge of your nose till the tip and hell boop your nose

likes to play and twirl your hair a bit too

always make sure that your warm and cozy

he really likes to just snuggle into you

hes comfort king i swear

sato

hes so broad and def loves to envelop you

its like a warm cloak

likes going from behind and wrap his arms around your waist while you do something

This prolly will happen a lot he does the same thing as going from behind but while you guys are baking, hell put a hand over yours while you mix the batter

Sato likes to kiss your forehead too

hell hug you forever until he dies if he could

your just his lil talking pillow

holding hands while cuddling is one of his favorites too

secretly likes being the lil spoon

but if you arent into it with being a big spoon thats fine too:)

hell hum sometimes and the sound of his voice through his chest is top tier shit

like you laying on his chest while he hums

i hope you know what i mean D:

anyways lol

yeah well give a+ to sato’s cuddling

Tokoyami

there is a very sad collection of tokoyami gifs lol

sleeping while cuddling in the dark are his favorite things to do with ya

dark shadow gets in the way a lot too

its like that one annoying pet that you love but cant quite get rid of

yeahhh its like that

lets you touch his feathers(?)

He hates the fact that he cant kiss you:(

but he nuzzles his beak wherever he can kinda thing

he really likes when you kiss his beak

gets really flustered real quick

likes being squished too

most likely will prolly be laying on your chest and/or his head will be nested into your neck

traces some part of your body

like your nose or jawline

hes a bit insecure cuz he doesnt know if hes doing it right

please reassure him

bird boy doesnt really know how to cuddle all that good im sorry

dark shadow embarrasses toko so much

Prolly likes to read some poems he made for you

or or orrr playing his electric guitar to you

just some tunes to relax

hes vvv chill after you guys cuddle for a certain amount of time

[iloveyousmmm]

TOA HEADCANONS

uhmm

idk…

i have a lot

but here’s some head canons!!🥰😘

no they’re not organized.

i’m not really adding any ROTT hcs because i haven’t watched that in 2 years…i’m too scared to watch it again.

jim is bi or pan 100%

when toby was 10-13 he would literally go weeks without showers..

Bular isn’t straight either. he’s like under the bi umbrella.

dictatious is gay because like…yea

Gunmar slept with men because women were scarce.

blinky and dictatious both have audhd.

claire isn’t straight either. nobody in toa are straight…

angor called morgana mom more than 4004838 times.

angor is unlabeled.

gunmar and dictatious had a thing while in the darklands… but when they got out gunmar like got colder towards diccy max obvi.

when james sr left it took barbara years to try to get back into dating. like she started to date again when jim was 13.

y’all remember that one gumm-gumm troll who was crying when the nyarlagroths died? his name is jeram. literally sounds like how it looks.

anyway jeram and bular had a “connection” before the killahead bridge battle..iyk;)

bular can actually cook really good troll food (he makes really good…fleshy meals…if your a troll..)

dictatious knew angor rot in the past and they were actually really good friends. prolly more.

douxie used to trip over his staff many times cause he would all ways forget to put it in his bracelet thingy.

Bular was forced(by strickler) to wear a winter coat, pants, boots that were made for him, and a lil beanie when it was snowing outside even though he was used to the snow.

if bular knew what it was he’d definitely play electric guitar.

when given catnip, bular and gunmar(or any other gumm-gumm’s) will go crazy😪

jim hates his full name(James Lake Jr) because he was literally named after his dum dum dad.

toby has a full drawer of phones.

claire used to be a wolf/galaxy girl in elementary or middle school.

steve looked…questionable in middle school.

bular missed jeram every day.

gunmar actually cried alone about his sons death. if you caught him or anyone for that matter he’d kill you.

if bular was human in wizards he’d be some angsty teen.

bular would most definitely listen to queen, korn, mindless self indulgence, and MCR.

jim DOES listen to queen. that’s all he listens too.

jim would cry to the song beautiful boy by john lennon because it’d remind him of his dad in the past.

gunmar was good but tough to bular.

bular would have a love hate relationship with ice cream. he’d hate chocolate but love vanilla.

angor did the whip and nae nae once.

dictatious had a pet goblin who’d he take care of…a lot.. till gunmar ‘accidentally’ stepped on it. diccy was crushed.

dictatious and angor would definitely binge watch steven universe.

THATS ALL!! for now😈😈😈

[hykar]

💫Sucheon Kang Headcanons: 1

•A light sleeper that is easily waken up even with the most subtle movement anywhere near him when he sleeps or the smallest noise being made.

•Definitely has Insomnia, I don't make the rules.

•Listens to music (Even his favorite ones) with either the STRAIGHTEST face known to mankind or humming along—there's nothing in between.

•I can see him listening to: The Weeknd, Al James, Chase Atlantic, Arctic Monkeys, Childish Gambino, MCR, and Cigarettes After Sex.

•Chase Atlantic coded—I said what I said.

•I can (somehow) imagine him learning how to play a guitar (He'd definitely go for the electric one) and like he got everything he could possibly need and purchased a really good guitar too—only to get frustrated with how the strings are too hard and is hurting his fingers to the point he just can't play at all and left the guitar and the materials he got in his closet to rot. "What the fuck you can change strings?" I can hear him saying that if he finds out you can change the guitar strings to one you're more comfortable in using.

•Definitely gets pissed at the claw machines. I can see him pinching his nose bridge in annoyance if the prize is dropped when its so near to the hole where prizes are dropped in. I think he broke one or two claw machines.

•Has the meanest side eyes and/or eye rolls.

•Better start praying if you show up to unhinged/out of pocket insults and you see him there cause for some reason, even the most basic ahh insults becomes so mean when it comes from him. (His insults fr piss at the soul)

•If he were a character in the Mean Girls, he'd definitely be Regina George.

•He's definitely not misogynistic, racist, homophobic or anything of the likes (Its pretty hard to see him that way too cause it just don't sit well nor does it fit well at all.) but he is definitely the quote "It doesn't matter what you are cause if you suck, you suck."

•He's definitely a Grumpy Admirer Who Secretly Cares or is like very straightforward about it—There's nothing in between (FR GONNA WRITE ABOUT THIS OMG IAJDISJSJFJC).

•Immediately blocks a person if they ask him if he's single when he's in a relationship.

•Other than Bomber Jackets, I think he likes leather jackets, racer jackets, and baseball styled jackets too.

🌷Hell week is hell weeking real hard rn, really sorry if the finals week turned into my final week. Will try to survive through this.🥲

[canmom]

Music theory (for science bitches) INTERLUDE A - what's with a guitar?

Got to play guitar for the first time in me life last night! Answered a lot of questions about one of the world's most common instruments, some I knew I had, some I didn't.

So here's what I picked up.

Tuning

The guitar I tried playing was an electric guitar with four strings that had been modified to be tuned in fifths, which apparently makes it similar to a tenor guitar - a familiar tuning for me since the violin and erhu are also tuned in fifths. But guitars are usually tuned in fourths.

'Tenor' here isn't really referring to a specific range the way it does in regards to singers - it seems kinda like more of an adjective meaning 'higher than usual and tuned in fifths'. So you can have the strange-sounding 'tenor bass' guitar. Although with the more obscure guitar variants, the language seems to be kind of a free-for-all.

Tenor guitars are usually shorter than regular guitars, and with different strings, but ultimately as long as you don't break the strings, you can tune to whatever frequencies by adjusting the tension. The standard guitar tunings are ultimately a matter of convention.

Besides that, the major design differences between a guitar and a violin type instrument are... the strings are arranged flat rather than in an arc, and they have frets.

The flat arrangement makes it much easier to play chords. You can simply move your fingers, or plectrum, in a straightish line and hit multiple strings.

Frets are metal rods which protrude from the fingerboard, and they make it much easier to hit particular pitches. You press the string behind the fret (further from the bridge/soundbox), and this holds the string against the fret, reducing the vibrating segment to an exact length. So there's no need to train your muscle memory and ear to recognise whether your fingering is in tune, as is the case on violin, erhu and the like. But it does make pitch-varying techniques like vibrato require a different approach. More on that in a bit.

The frets are positioned in semitones. There are some little dot markings that indicate the major third, the fourth, the fifth, the major sixth and a double dot for the octave, which helps with navigation.

Due to the way guitar strings are tuned, the way you construct chords is a little counterintuitive. Let's take for example a standard minor triad chord.

On a piano, you play the base note, a note three semitones up from that (the minor third), and a note seven semitones up from the base (the fifth). This will generally result in your fingers being fairly evenly spaced, e.g. A minor looks like...

On a guitar it's a bit more complicated. Intuitively, you might expect to play the three notes in this chord in order, on strings of increasing pitch, but if you try this you would conclude realise that the gap between strings is larger than a major third.

So, the strings I had were tuned DAEB (similar to a violin, but without the G on the bottom, instead gaining a B on top). If you want to play A minor you need to play A, C and E. The A and E can be played on open strings, but what about that C? It lies in between those two strings.

So, I thought, what if I played the C on the D string underneath the A? In that case, you'd put your finger on the 11th fret of the D string and strum the D, A and E strings. That would hit the same notes you would hit on a piano, just arranged differently on the instrument...

However, that is not how guitar players normally form chords. The reason is that, while this may work for open strings well enough, if you wanted to play a minor triad further up, it doesn't really work at all: there's no physical way your hand can be up at the top of the guitar on some strings and all the way down at that C for others.

Instead, guitar players take advantage of the convention of octave equivalency and play the next C up. This can be reached on the B string very easily, so for this A minor chord, you can play it on A, E and B:

On a piano, this chord would look like this:

This would be a goofy thing to do on a piano, but it makes things much easier on guitar.

In terms of the resulting sound, this will shift the fundamental of the C up an octave, and remove a certain proportion of the overtones - more on that in the upcoming next part of the music theory notes (for science bitches) series. So it will affect the timbre of the sound. However, it will still generally sound like A minor.

That's all well and good if you've got open strings in your chord, but what if you want to play, say, B minor? Well, you can use one of your fingers in a technique called a 'bar', which simply means you hold your whole finger against the fingerboard to press all the strings at a particular fret...

This essentially lets you calculate the chords in the same way as you would at the open strings, so you can just memorise the general shape of minor chords and slide it around.

My friend came up with a few little chord progressions for me to play. For communicating them she would say like 'ok then play 2 2 0 0' with the numerals communicating which fret/semitone to play - I believe this is similar to the notation used in tablature. (In this case that would amount to E B E B, a doubled-up 'power chord'). She figured out the progression pretty intuitively - when we worked out the names it turned out to include a variety of suspended or diminished chords or one chord over another, and other such things. (She had a phone app that would let you put in the positions and would tell you a name).

One of the cool features of a physical instrument is that you can just try shit. It was very informative to see how chord progressions come together and how the different voices seem to relate to each other.

The mechanics of playing the thing

The other major difference with guitar is like... damn those things are long!

Although the body of an electric guitar does not have to act as a soundbox, the shape of the guitar still turns out to be way more constrained and thought-out than I realised. There are all sorts of cutaways designed to help the guitar balance comfortably on your leg, sit comfortably against your abdomen, and so on. The 'horns' of the guitar aren't just decorative: they allow you to slide your hand further down the neck.

I got to see an ultra-light 'headless' guitar where the tuning pegs are at the bottom end, which saves weight. There are all sorts of little nuances about where the cable goes and so on.

The most awkward part was really the hand that goes on the neck and plays the chords. The frets help but they don't go that far.

Honestly, making chords on a guitar... my fingers are apparently pretty long, but it still felt like I'm contorting my hand, like I could feel the tension so much stretching across even a few frets. By the same token, pressing the strings was ouchy. It was the same on the zhonghu when I started though, so I'm sure if I kept at it I'd get the callouses I'd need to not feel painful anymore.

It can be quite important where you place your fingers between frets. Too far from the fret, and you don't create a good contact, so the string doesn't sound properly. Too close to the fret, like if you're right on top of it, can also be problematic. You have to apply enough pressure to hold the string firmly against the fret. All of this impressed on me how fiddly it is to play one of these things, let alone do it in a showy ostentatious way like guitarists do.

Strumming was also a bit fiddly. Unexpectedly, the biggest problem I tended to have was strumming too hard. With all the amplification involved, it seems you want a really light touch, just brushing the plectrum (or fingers) against the strings.

It turns out there's some complexity to strumming and plucking. My first instinct was to just go up down, up down, but it seems like actually the best approach is to alter the direction for different musical phrases, so sometimes you want to go two 'ups' in a row or two 'downs' in a row with something like a 'null stroke' in between to get your hand in position. This apparently just comes intuitively to an experienced guitarist, just like bowing does to an experienced violinist or erhu player, but maintaining the pattern definitely added to the cognitive load of the instrument at my level.

The guitar I was playing had a "synchronised tremolo bridge", similar to the one in the picture, meaning it was on a kind of levered spring anchored only at one end. Unlike a violin or erhu, the bridge of a guitar is very very close to where the strings are anchored, and adjustable per-string. The lever you see on some guitars is used to tilt the bridge while the strings are sounding, creating a vibrato (oscillation of pitch) effect. (I don't know why it's called a tremolo bridge rather than a vibrato bridge. In classical music 'tremolo' refers to either playing a bunch of the same note really fast, or oscillating volume. But this bridge definitely primarily affects pitch.)

(Incidentally, some guitars have non-parallel bridges and frets designed to give the lower strings more distance to play with which affects the relationship between string weight, tension, and pitch - it's a whole thing apparently.)

You can also create a vibrato effect by wiggling the string sideways against the fingerboard to adjust the tension in it.

The electric part

The big difference between an electric guitar and an acoustic guitar is that the vibrations in the strings are used not for the sound they make directly, but as an input into a signal chain.

I had wondered for a long time how guitar pickups work. It turns out they work by magnetic induction; the string is made of ferromagnetic material and the pickups have little magnets in them which induce a magnetic field in the string, and the vibrations of this magnetic field are picked up by an electromagnet inside the guitar. This has the interesting implication that an electric guitar does not require a medium to generate a sound, so it would work just fine in space (though of course the amplifier must be in air to transmit sound).

There are multiple sets of pickups at different points along the string, which means they get different sets of overtones depending on the amplitude of the different standing waves near that pickup; there is a little liver on the face of the guitar which allows you to adjust which pickup is active. Selecting the pickup closer to the bridge is effectively a kind of mechanical high pass filter on the strings.

The weak alternating current created by the vibrating strings is then passed along a shielded coaxial cable to an amplifier. This creates an opportunity to mess around with that signal - to add reverb, equalisation, etc. or more purely electric effects like 'phasing' and 'flanging'.

The 'distortion' effect so widely used in rock and related genres comes from multiplying the signal pre-amplification to the point that it saturates the amplifier, resulting in an effect similar to digital clipping. Traditionally this was done by literally boosting the signal louder than the amp's tolerances (referred to as 'gain' by guitarists), but nowadays they've found ways to get an equivalent effect that are less likely to break the equipment. (Honestly, I liked the 'cleaner' sound of when the guitar was not clipping a lot more than the heavily distorted version, but it's worth noting here as one of the most well known guitar effects)

These effects are typically implemented using 'pedals' which are just a small circuit that applies a particular toggleable signal modification, making the whole chain of guitar - pedals - amplifier collectively act as something like a modular synthesiser. The guitar acts as a signal generator, the pedals and amp process it, and finally it's played out of a speaker.

This is not unique to guitars, the same principles would basically apply to any 'electric' instrument, but for whatever historical reason guitars were the instrument that became 'electric' first, and they're still by far the most common.

It was interesting to me how technical the whole setup is. The amp has all sorts of dials to apply built-in effects and adjust its tone response in various ways; the guitar also had a few.

Analogue instruments give fairly limited options to control timbre. So like, on the erhu for example - you have a huge amount of pitch control, you can do a lot to adjust dynamics with the way you move your bow, but for timbre there's only a handful of dimensions in the 'parameter space' and like, ultimately I'm finding my way to a 'best way to do it' where it 'sounds like an erhu is supposed to sound'.

Electric instruments on the other hand has a huge multidimensional space of timbre possibilities, so if you understand guitars, you can stand on an amp for a while zeroing in on the exact sound you want while the infatuated canmom sitting next to you gets increasingly hot under the collar. For understanding what's going on in guitar music, it's evident classical theory can only get you so far.

So...

...am I gonna start learning guitar too now? As much as I admire my friend's ability to play dozens of different instruments... not in any sort of serious way, erhu/zhonghu is gonna be my main instrument for a good while (and I physically could not take a guitar home with me anyway with all the shit I'm carrying). But it's very interesting to see other parts of the string instrument space, and definitely gives me a better appreciation for all the things guitarists are doing.

Music's cool, I regret that I stopped playing... but now's definitely a good time to get back into it!!

[sidekickjoey]

So, I’m on a modern rockstar!Eddie and fan!Steve AU kick lately.

You know how, for newer bands or bands that are just hitting big fame, lead singers tend to light up or get super emotional whenever they catch fans singing along or really resonating with their music for the first time? 

Imagine Eddie, fresh off of Corroded Coffin’s first hit single. It’s some big roaring rock ballad that’s not entirely like their usual stuff, a little less metal than a lot of their tastes, but just the perfect bridge between the genres to get people interested in them. It suits Eddie’s voice well too, and when he sang it before it got big, everyone in the crowd looked up at him like he was a god. An angel in ripped clothes with a wicked smile and a killer set of pipes. Eddie loved it. He secretly loves hearing that it is the one that’s making it big. 

Steve is not a fan of metal, per se, but he loves a good deep rock song. He likes the way the drums boom in his bones and how the often grit-filled voices of 80s rockstars contrast with the smooth stylings of the electric guitars. When he first hears Corroded Coffin’s newest single, he’s not trying to seek out a new song to add to his list, but he is entranced all the same. The lead singer’s vocals just do something to him. The melody is intoxicating. He puts it on repeat for weeks. Robin hates him and tells him to get a hobby after the third.

Naturally, they end up together at Corroded Coffin’s Chicago show a few weeks later. It’s a bit of a hike from Hawkins, but Steve would not shut up about going, and Robin is clinging desperately to the shred of hope that this may be what finally rids Steve of his ear worm, so they make it work. They stumble through each other’s idiosyncrasies (”Steve, for the thousandth time, your hair is FINE” “Robs, I swear to God if you make me stop this car one more time for a bathroom break, you’re walking the rest of the way”) and end up three rows back from the front. It’s not a bad view. Steve likes how he’s directly in front of the mic. He likes it even more after noticing how often he makes eye contact with the opener, both meaningfully and not. 

Nothing prepares him, however, for when they step off the stage and the lights dim. The stage rumbles. The fans scream. A heavy drum beat begins feeling more like a pounding heartbeat, and as it ascends into a faster tempo, they are greeted with the whine of an electric guitar and the one man they’re all there to see. 

Eddie.

Eddie, with heavy eyeliner smeared down his cheeks, impressively fluffed up hair, and a piercing in his ear that glimmers in the bright stage light. Eddie, who is donning a black vest and nothing more up top and a pair of short ripped shorts and fishnets down below. Eddie, whose large boots are about eye level with Steve’s face and welcome to stomp on him at any time he pleases, thank you very much. 

Steve is frozen the moment he comes into the light. 

He struggles to breathe as Eddie cracks a smile.

Then, Corroded Coffin dives right into their setlist. It’s heavy, like anyone who has listened to more than one song of theirs can tell, but it’s not unpleasant. Robin seems to love the more fast-paced songs and hits it off with a girl beside them dressed not unlike Eddie who seems to like them, too. Steve finds himself listening less to them and more often watching Eddie - the man with enough stage presence to render a crowd under his command. 

It’s exhilarating. And then, it all comes to a head when the first chords of their hit song play.

The world around Steve melts away the second he hears them. Robin mentions something to him about the song, tugging on his sleeve, but it goes unnoticed because this is it. This is the moment Steve drove however long to see. This is the song that’s taken over his entire life for the past month and a half, and Eddie is right there. Eddie’s going to sing it to him. 

Eddie does sing it to him. He sings it right to him.

Steve doesn’t know that it’s because he’s the only one in Eddie’s line of sight that knows all the lyrics. He doesn’t know that it’s because his joy is just radiating off of him like the sun cutting through a chilly winter’s day. He doesn’t know that Eddie was feeling nervous about debuting this song to such a big crowd in such a big city, and Steve’s enthusiasm melted all those nerves away the second recognition crossed his eye. 

He just knows that Eddie’s singing to him, and that it’s everything and more than he could ask for. 

Getting Eddie’s pick tossed to him at the end of the night is a delightful cherry on top, though. Steve clutches it close to his chest as he and Robin leave the venue. He places it on his nightstand once they’re back in Hawkins. 

And, because he’s insatiable and still on the high of the concert (to Robin’s dramatized dismay), he takes a picture of it to post to social media, documenting the night before he goes to bed. 

“Guess I’m a metalhead now. Thanks for the show @CorrodedCoffin x”

Steve watches Robin and a few of his other friends from Hawkins like it before he finally drifts off, ears slightly ringing but mind on Cloud 9. When he wakes, he comes to realize that a whole lot more than just Robin and the gang dropped likes of their own overnight. In fact, a whole lot more people did - including none other than famous lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin himself, Eddie Munson. 

...who also left a comment that everyone and their mother was liking.

“Thanks for the show yourself, pretty boy. Give that pick a good home for me, yeah?”

Steve gawks. Steve laughs. Steve likes it and immediately makes a beeline for Robin’s home, because if he doesn’t talk about this with someone else asap, he may just combust into a pile of goo on the floor.

By the time he gets there, he might as well already be a puddle on the floor, because in the time it took for him to hop in his car and drive the ten minutes to her house, Eddie not only saw the like but hopped in his DMs - not to creep on him or anything, but to be a damn gentleman apologizing for blowing up his phone (”I’m still not used to this whole ‘everyone following me’ thing”) and making sure he got home from the concert okay, because he’s made the trip from Hawkins before to visit family and knows it’s a decent ride.  

It’s everything. It’s all too much. 

It’s every fan’s dream, and Steve cannot believe he’s living it.