#over a guitar and an electric piano | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ajortga · 18 days

Text

love at first glance

pairing: tara carpenter x bass guitarist!fem reader

word count: 5.5k+

summary: in which tara admires your bass skills, then admires you even more.

author's note: please bear with me, i don't know what i'm doing but i'm just hoping these scrambled words just go well. tv girl mentioned!

based off request!

tara carpenter x masc! fem reader and reader is in a band, maybe like lead guitarist or bass? but like tara goes to a concert with all of the core 4 (+anika cuz i miss her) and like is mesmerized by reader. maybe they make eye contact during a song or sum? they leave the concert and tara is still thinking about reader and reader is still thinking about tara. cut to like later maybe at a party or a bar and they bump into each other and chop it up, but reader is like awkward-ish?

You’ve always had a love for anything that was related to music. Your parents made you take singing lessons ever since you were little.

At first, you hated it. Singing Mary Had a Little Lamb in different keys was not entertaining. But as you grew older and probably didn’t need to sing that song every practice, you began to use your house’s grand piano that was left untouched for years. And then, being able to sing and knowing your keys inside and out wasn’t so bad after all.

You spent countless times in the living room, the echo of your voice lingering against your house as you learned your favorite songs.

You wrote songs and composed as you experimented with your voice and the keys. It was almost never surprising when your parents caught you up late at night under your pillow, pencil scratching notes across lined pieces of paper. In every single talent show, audition, or musical, your name would be signed. Everyone in your family knew that one day, you’d grow to be a musician.

People would even begin to see you whenever they were at warehouses and you’d be playing a piano. At every gathering, your relatives would ask, “Where is that little Y/N?” And your parents would look at each other with a knowing glance, both saying confidently, “Probably in the living room with that damn piano.”

You loved listening to music, making music, playing music, feeling your emotions in music, god, every time you’d go out, your earphones would be in your pockets.

So when you were gifted an acoustic guitar for your 12th birthday, to say the least, you were fucking thrilled. Instead of playing the piano 7 days a week, you’d play guitar for half those days. Gosh, was it hard learning a string instrument after playing piano for half your life? Maybe. But you loved it.

You’d practice and practice, gradually getting better, then you’d play the electric and bass. And was the bass guitar a hell of a sound, you loved it.

Then, the best thing ever happened to you. You had grouped up with your friends and quickly became a band with all your talents combined. Slowly but surely, did you begin to realize how far you had gone. Because in a blink of an eye, you were at concerts, fingers pressing down on your strings as it electrified through stadiums and arenas while people cheered.

Cheered for you. That’s something you’ll never regret in your entire life.

You turn your bass’s machine head, plucking each string as you tune them before your concert. Nights like this never get old, you’d always be left with the adrenaline from every concert, like your body was refreshed when you slept under your hotel room’s covers.

As your hair and makeup stylist’s makeup brush dabs across your cheeks, you trace the outline of your bass guitar and look at yourself in the mirror. Layered hair, a black tank top over your toned arms, hidden beneath a red leather jacket. Your favorite part would probably be your nails painted red to compliment your hands. You had to keep them short though.

What would this night bring you? Everytime you close your eyes and listen, you can hear the faint echo of your bass vibrating through, lights swaying into the crowd, a smile forming on your face.

Every night had something different, there were different people, a different crowd, it makes you feel different every time. Yet you still feel the thrill and pride swell against your chest.

Junia, one of your closest friends that plays the drums, pops her head in. “You look hot,” she grins, “Jess said she’d come to pick us up at 40. You’re going to kill it, Bass.”

Bass. What an original nickname, you lean your chin into your palm as you raise your eyebrows, “You know it, June.”

7:45.

Tara looks at herself in the mirror, Mindy and Chad screaming at each other while playing Jenga in the background. She pushes a stubborn strand of hair away from her eyelashes while she curls them.

“CHEATER!-” Mindy yells, making the brunette flinch and breathe in frustration. She was not going to get her eyelashes pulled out.

After Tara was done with a cropped graphic tee, a jean skirt, and a cute little white bow in her hair, she walked through the hallway and into the living room, still adjusting her gold hoops.

There, Anika and her sister seemed the sanest out of them all. On the other hand, the twins were fighting over the remote.

“Babies,” Sam mutters, pushing her dark brown hair back.

Anika pulls the remote out of both of their hands easily while Chad mutters ‘what the fuck’ under his breath.

It was like being in a daycare. Tara ate a cookie while watching Anika throw the remote onto the sofa, wearing a lace tank top with jeans, “Mindss, why don’t we just leave the remote and find something else. Your hair is getting all poofy.”

“And a little dingussy,” Chad adds.

Mindy smacks him, “Don’t ever use ‘dingussy’ to describe something. It sounds sexual.”

Before they could say furthermore, Tara jumps in, mentally begging them to shut up for a moment, “You have the keys, Sam?”

Sam pulls them out of the pocket in her jeans.

Tara gives a small nod, looking a little over Sam, “Anika, tickets?”

“Yep, 5 of them,” she says, pulling out each ticket one by one with one hand and smoothing out Mindy’s hair with the other. When it was 5:30PM, they were all off, crawling into Sam’s car. Tara immediately sat in the passenger seat.

I’m not sacrificing my hair by sitting in the middle seat, she thinks as she looks back at Anika, who was basically separating the two twins that were probably yelling in her ear at this point.

“You guys will love them. Jess has always been one of the most talented people I know in music. I have no doubt her band will be the best on stage.”

When Anika had first mentioned when she won a giveaway for a concert. It was for a barricade, but it was stated that they were allowed to be in the front row, the tickets she won had granted her that. Tara wasn’t very interested. Music just wasn’t something she always listened to on a daily basis. But there were 5, and no way would she miss out.

So she listened to a song, played it on Spotify while walking to class.

The scene shifts to a local coffee shop in Woodsboro.

“Let me tell you, the bass was fucking amazing! Brilliant!” Tara yaps excitedly to the four people in front of her. She loved how well the drums, electric, lyrics, and bass sounded. The bass blessed her ears. She had immediately added it to her favorites.

“Bass, huh?” Anika smiles while drinking her coffee. “I think that’s one of the leads, Y/N. Jess always talks about how good she sounds, she usually comes up with all the riffs and lines.”

Y/N. It was unique, Tara made a note to remember it. Yet, she forgot about that conversation no less than 2 days after.

They all stepped out once they could see people lining up and buying the light up sticks that were controlled throughout the concert. Tara found it cool that the sticks had stars on them, in fact, the lights were one of the parts that made a concert a concert.

Mindy was yelling happily and doing a little dance once their tickets got scanned and they all ran to the front row.

Anika gave a cocky grin, “Maybe they’ll notice us because we’re in the front!”

It was thirty minutes until the background music came to a stop and the lights slowly started to dim. People were screaming, Tara’s heart was pounding against her chest. It was dead silent, whispers and occasional excited screams echoed.

“Oh my god, it’s happening,” Mindy whispers loudly, holding onto Anika as they look at the curtains.

They wait a moment, then two, and by the third one, drums begin to echo. ‘Tsst’ being echoed, before it follows with a loud 16th beat of drums. Then, the curtains open as Tara’s eyes widen.

Are you sick of me?

Would you like to be?

I'm trying to tell you something,

Something that I already said

The drums softly fill Tara’s ears, as she watches them play, she finally notices you. Perfect layered hair, messy in all the right ways. The bass girl. Something about the way the warmth of the light danced across your face in all the right ways captivated her. The way your deep red leather jacket hung over your shoulder, exposing your defined collar bones and toned arms while you pressed on strings.

Oh god, it felt as if a new story line with different love interests began to change for Tara. She could see the veins against your slim hands as they traveled across your guitar with ease. You mouthed the lyrics, enjoying yourself as you close your eyes and sway softly to the beat.

You like a pretty boy,

With a pretty voice

Who is trying to sell you something,

Something that you already have

The drums left Tara’s thoughts, now hearing you and the way that your bass adds on to the magic of it all. You’re just standing there, your bangs swiping across your features as you tuck it to your sides, smiling to yourself as you scan the crowd for a moment then look back down to your strings.

Maybe it was the way you looked like you were the right person for this part–to be on stage like you were meant for it. Or maybe it was the way your gaze flickered to the front row and landed on Tara’s wide ones. She could see the way you tilted your head and gave her a curious, wondering look, before giving her a small smile.

Oh my god, your smile was so cute. If she could describe it, it’s like the kind of smile that made her all giggly and was so contagious that she felt herself slowly smile.

The lights shine over your face, making everything about you glow. You pluck at the strings as you mouth the chorus to Tara. Her eyes searched all over your face. You don’t break eye contact with her.

But if you're too drunk to drive,

And the music is right

She might let you stay,

But just for the night

“And if she grabs for your hand, and drags you along,” Tara mouths back in time with the song.

One of your eyebrows raise as the light shines onto you once again, god, she can almost hear your soft, breathy voice teasingly singing, “She might want a kiss before the end of this song..”

Anika screams, jumping up and down and hyping everyone up, waving her heart stick in beat with the song.

Because love can burn like a cigarette…

By the end of the concert, Tara was love struck. Very very love struck. It was late when her and the four of her friends walked out, the stars shining just a little brighter. She couldn’t get you out of her head. She might have grown gray hairs. How could you be more than any other celebrity crush?

She prayed to the universe that it would align you both together. Just like each star was in the night sky.

It’s bad, Loving Machine is playing and she can only think about you strumming your guitar.

Here she comes walking down the street,

Maddie Klein and her fabulous loving machine-

“Earth to Tara, hello?” Anika pauses the music, waving her hand into the girl’s face. It was almost like a record scratch moment as Tara blinked and looked around. “Oh, sorry, what?”

“Did you like the concert?” She asks, holding onto her star light up as the red light makes the glitter under her eyes sparkle. Anika was now in the middle, the car a little quieter since Chad was now in the passenger seat.

“Oh yeah, I loved it.” Tara answers, half of her attention slipping away. She starts to see you from a camera, lighting cast against your tan skin, a TV effect on you, making your movements jerky.

The rest of the people are fading away, their voices, so loud and eager. Blah blah blah blah… Y/N.. Bassist. Love of her life.

Dreamy sigh.

Blah.. Blah.. “Yeah the bassist was hot.” Mindy’s voice suddenly being processed.

“What?” Tara immediately turns away from the window and looks at Mindy on the opposite side. Oh god, now she was going to have to fight for you? "No! Go find someone else to admire!” She grumbles, before immediately looking away.

The whole car shakes as they all laugh, playfully hitting Tara. “See? She was literally summoned, baby!” Anika giggles, talking to Mindy. “She wasn’t giving any shits when we were talking, and as soon as we talked about Senorita Y/N, she was like poof!”

Sam looks from the rearview mirror, an eyebrow raised, “Already? One concert that lasted two hours and she’s already wrapped you around her little finger?”

Little fingers, those veiny hands that played so smoothly across the-

Chad turns around excitedly, like a child peeking at surprise presents, “She was literally captivated the whole damn concert! You should’ve seen her, a love sick puppy!”

Her sister cackles, the car moving as she keeps snorting, “Gotta admit though, she’s fine wine.”

“Sam!” Tara rubs her cheeks, she seriously hoped she wasn’t going to have to battle till death for you.

“Chill!” Sam coaxes, putting one hand up in the air, “I would totally go for her if you weren’t interested. Didn’t think you had a thing for ‘Sam accepted’ girls.”

The freckled cheek girl couldn’t help but sigh, the thought of you still lingering in her mind. Like a twinkling little Melody who’s lyrics couldn’t get out of her mind, even when she slept.

It had been a week. Tara says that she doesn’t think of you too often, but every single time she hears your band’s song, you end up in her mind for the whole day. Every time she steps into a coffee shop, she wonders if you’d be the person to give a free concert.

She wonders if you’re as sweet as your name sounds. She wonders if you’d hold doors for others or walk old ladies down the street. She wonders if your hand would fit hers. She wonders if you had even thought of her after the curtains closed.

She wonders if you smell good, if you’d smell like a musky, sweet, fruity vanilla-y scent with leather undertones. She sure hoped so.

To say the least, you’ve thought about the brunette just as much. You were having fun, strumming your guitar and feeling the beat radiate off your skin. Until you lay eyes on her. She had wide, brown doe eyes that made your knees buckle.

She was heaven-sent. You could even make out her tan freckled cheeks. And you were almost in denial when she was looking at you. It was always who was singing that people looked at, heck, you did too. But you were looking at her. And she was looking at you.

Plenty of people might have looked at you, but she was different. Like she was mesmerized by how you played. Like she was a moth to your flame.

In fact, you don’t know if anyone has ever looked at you with that much admiration.

The girl was so beautifully written, you wished you knew who she was. Instead, she was one out of 8 billion people out there, in a blink of an eye, a close of a curtain, she was off.

Tara looked at herself in the mirror, standing there like.. She didn’t even know, her serious eyes trailing down to what she was wearing, before turning to Anika slowly.

“Anika, I look like a hot dog.” She cries, looking at the way the costume swallowed her whole in the fitting room.

“That’s because you’re wearing a hot dog costume, Tar. But you look like a steaming hot hot dog!” Anika shakes her head, her head only visible since she was basically a whole mustard bottle.

Mindy waddles through the living room, a red ketchup bottle, a red dangling earring complimenting her poofy hair. “Has anyone seen my earring? I can’t find it! It was in my purse and I thought if it looked good, I’d totally buy this.”

Chad walks in the girl’s fitting room, slightly peeking as Sam walks out of her dressing room, a serious expression on their face, a cookie and milk costume.

Tara wants to laugh, but no way in hell was she going to wear this at a costume party, at least not at a serious one.

After actually taking it seriously, Tara decides on a pirate outfit, tying up her bandana.

She can almost hear the music blasting from her apartment, which is filled with laughter and chatting from her ‘family.’

Her eyes skim over her board, looking for her calendar that was usually meant for school, roaming around the small photos of you and a heart drawn over your face. She traces over it, before getting ready to leave, not even looking at the calendar.

Maybe the calendar was just an excuse.

After 5 songs and a half of your band’s music, the core five, including sweet Anika, open the door. A heavy scent of booze fills their senses, sweat, and a mix of perfumes all lingered. Not to mention, it was stuffy.

“Ugh, do they ever think about AC?” Sam grumbles, clearly not a party person as she gets whacked across the face from a toilet plumber that belonged to a person who was wearing a damn toilet costume. Mindy cackled, before tripping and almost crashing into them, luckily her girlfriend tugged her back.

They pushed against cowboy hats and random inflatable dinosaurs, across the dance floor, and to the drinks station.

Tara did not leave empty handed, her mouth gulping down the bubbly bitterness of alcohol.

She was buzzed, a few drinks here and she was flushed and giggling, so she made sure to think about her intake. As she parted from the other four to find a trash can, scanning the groups of people. Sometimes she found people she knew at school, cute boys, just people she’s seen.

Tara took a different route back to her friends, the music growing louder in her ears when she got near the dance floor, slivering through bodies. It was almost inevitable that her nose would scrunch, too strong of a perfume, or just sweat.. It made her nauseous.

Where was she going? She didn’t know, she stood on her tippy toes, her ruffled blouse crinkling as she searched for her friends.

Her face smacked right into someone, her hand automatically being placed on their chest. She opened her mouth, about to apologize and prepare for a scolding until her nose twitched. A fruity and sweet vanilla-y smell, and a light leathery contrast.. No?..

“Shoot,” you look down, your drink almost spilling on yourself as you look at the shorter person as you smooth out their hair. Did you ruin it? “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Tara looks at her outfit, perfectly fine, no stains. Hearing your soft, breathy voice, it was unrecognizable to her at first.

“No, it’s totally fine, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Tara says, immediately looking up and seeing your big curious eyes.

Oh my god.

Your eyes search hers, like you’re scanning her. Like you feel you’ve seen her before. No, you know you have. But where? The trace of her nose, doe eyes, oh! Tara almost puts a hand over her mouth because she can almost see the swirling sense of recognition in your eyes.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe to ask about the concert, but you closed it. You don’t even know if she noticed you, maybe she was spacing out and was not acknowledging you during your concert a few weeks ago.

When it came to people, especially ones you crushed on, you were all stuttering words and pink cheeks.

The shorter girl sees the way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and she registers what you’re wearing as her eyes trail down. And fuck, you looked angellic. Seriously.

A halo over your head and wings enveloping your sides. A black corset and ruffled skirt that showed a little of your legs, which were covered with tights. God, she thinks she can see the muscles as you cross one leg over the other.

It immediately makes you think she’s judging you. This costume was not your cup of tea, but your friends invited you to match with them, all angels in different colors.

The little pirate instead gives you a genuine look, “I like your costume,” she says, focusing a little too much on your toned arms and slightly flushed cheeks.

“I um.. Thank you..?” You bite your tongue, not knowing her name. In what chance do you get to meet the girl that made you think soulmates were real once again? At least a 1 in 300 chance.

“Tara,” she answers for you, pretending she didn’t already have your name embedded in the back of her head.

“I’m Y/N,” you bite a smile, she probably didn’t recognize you. You take a small sip from your drink, nose scrunching at the taste.

“You’re good at the bass,” she says nonchalantly, and you almost choke on your drink.

You didn’t think she’d recognize you, but now knowing that, you tilt your head. “Thank you. It comes from years of practice. What did you think?” You were genuinely curious.

“I think you’re just so good at the bass..” She mumbles, again, trailing off, before clearing her throat. “I mean, the bass always makes the songs so much better! You know? It’s like realizing how amazing something really is when you notice it-”

“I appreciate it,” you say, now aware of your surroundings because instead of where you two just bumped into each other, you were sitting at a table. You turn your head, looking at where you were, probably near the back.

Tara took the opportunity to notice your damn jawline, so perfect and sleek and defined-

“I like your freckles,” you admit, voice breathy. You turn back to look at her while batting your eyelashes, Tara’s eyes trained on how your hands.. Veiny hands lifted the cup to your lips.

The compliment almost catches her off guard, because with all the compliments she might get, freckles were usually not on the list. It used to make her insecure, but the way you said it and looked said otherwise. The alcohol was definitely taking a toll on you, because you were staring at her with no shame whatsoever.

Wide, searching eyes, it looked as if you were trying to memorize every detail.

The flutters in Tara’s stomach would’ve lasted longer. Except her eyes teared away from yours as she could see a very familiar ketchup and mustard costume and two other people behind them.

“Oh my god!” She groans quietly, covering her face as she scoots deeper into the booth.

She completely forgot that she slithered away from them, getting side tracked.

The brunette could die from embarrassment. You on the other hand.. Just prettily sitting there with a curious look on your face, the small warmth of the lamp casting a glow onto your face.

You bite your lip, trying to fight back a small giggle as you peek at the costumes that you can almost kind of guess who they are to Tara.

“SHE’S LOOKING THIS WAY!” Mindy hollers, tugging the mustard bottle next to her as Chad scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Tara’s literally hiding from us.”

“Hold it up!”

They’re screaming at each other. You can’t hear it from all the music and party chatter, but you can definitely figure it out from their expressions. For a moment, they turn away from you, so you can’t see them.

You slip on a leather jacket that was in your bag.

A hiding Tara is in the corner of the booth, you raise your eyebrows at her.

It doesn’t take long before the four people across the room slowly turn to you in synchronization.

“Um, I don’t-” You start, feeling a little awkward.

They hold up a paper, and you can’t even see what the words are saying. It’s at least the size of a penny. And from here, you can’t even make out the words.

“Dingus,” Mindy shouts to her twin, noticing the confused expression on your face as you try to understand what the paper is saying. She finally turns the paper around after holding it up. “It’s too small, that’s why!”

One of the four holds up a finger, signaling you to give them a moment as they adjust, before turning around.

‘Give her your numbar’ The sign says, you still don’t get it. Oh, number. You grab a tissue from the booth, and take out a sharpie from your pocket. Sharpies were always needed whenever you went out. To write down something on your hand, to sign autographs..

You slip the paper to Tara, giving her a small smile. She was definitely embarrassed. She didn’t even notice you slipping it to her, because after 5 seconds of you sliding it to her again, she still was clueless! The girl, instead, turned around to look out, immediately still seeing her stupid friends.

You sigh, putting the paper into your pocket. You feel a little bad for her.

Party lights fill the empty crevices of the room while you scoot out of the booth and stand up, pretending you didn’t notice the four people who were staring into the back of your skull.

“I think my friends are playing some Uno, you wanna come?” You offer, guiding her out of the booth as you look down at her.

“Sure.”

As the game went on, the last two players in the center still battling it out, Tara could see you were all fuzzy and flushed.

You were definitely drunk. Too drunk to drive.

Your knees were nudged against hers, a little closer than expected, cuddled into her, but she didn’t mind. God no she definitely didn’t.

She was talking a lot, and you were always open ears and one of the best listeners. And then you would ramble and Tara would listen. It made you both feel heard and understood.

After a moment, you remember something.

“Can I borrow your phone real quick? Uh, my phone is dead right now and I have to text a friend where I’m at.” You lie, your words slightly mushed together.

“Sure,” Tara says, unlocking her phone and handing it to you, a little drunk. You try to ignore the fact that the wallpaper is you from the concert she attended weeks ago.

You slip into the contacts, adding your contact and changing the name to; y/n, the bass guitarist ♡.

She didn’t even notice for the rest of the night.

As the sun slept at night, Tara stared at the ceiling, her vinyl spinning while a crackled “Say Yes to Heaven” reverberated around her bedroom.

She wished she could’ve stayed so much longer, but her friends had to leave, and there was no way she was taking an Uber or driving when tipsy.

Tara wanted to ask for your number, but because you never asked, maybe you didn’t because this didn’t mean as much as it did to her.

Curiosity was getting the best of her as she checked the messages on her phone, wondering how you typed like to your friends. But to her surprise, there were no messages to a number she didn’t recognize. The last number was just to Sam.

Her nose wrinkled, swiping to check the apps recently opened as she clicked the recent one.

Dimples creased against her cheeks as she saw your name with a little heart. She immediately clicked to message you. But to her surprise, you had already done so.

y/n, the bass guitarist ♡: whatcha doing? i hope ur not asleep yet>:(

tara ☆🧭: thankfully not yet, i’m in bed. u know, i was going to be a little sad than i’d like to admit if i didn’t get your number.

y/n, the bass guitarist ♡: i did hand you a paper, but you were hiding in the corner of the booth and i thought it would be easier this way

It took her a moment to think of what to say, before she thought of something she never thought she’d do late at night.

tara ☆🧭: do u wanna call? maybe just talk to each other till one of us falls asleep.

You usually weren't the person to connect over facetimes and calls, sometimes you didn't know what to say in the moment. You don't know..

She doesn’t get a response for a minute, before her phone vibrates in her hand and she swipes to answer.

Your hair was let down loose, in an oversized tee that even then she could still see your collarbones. You give a sleepy smile.

“Tara,” you say softly, and something in Tara thumps because you look so happy to see her. She grins back, shifting so she could see you better.

“I’ve never really done one of these,” your quiet voice says, a warmer tone casting over your face. “Do you want to say hi to Cinnamon? He’s my puppy.” You say, pushing your hair back.

The brunette nods, “Puppies are so cute, my sister isn’t very fond though. They sometimes make her sneeze.”

“Oh, allergies you could get a poodle breed or something, Cinnamon doesn’t shed much,” you agree, your camera slightly shaking as she can slightly hear you call your dog's name in a cute voice. “Come here, boy!”

Seconds later, you bring out your puppy, which lolls outs his tongue as you press a kiss to his head. Tara can see your red nails as you mess up his hair.

“Tell me about yourself,” Tara says, looking at you through the screen with pure curiosity.

“I-” You pause, thinking for a moment before shaking your head. “I think you should tell me about yourself first. It’s late and I want to listen to you. As much as I’d try to stay up, I’d fall asleep if you went second.” You murmur, cuddling with Cinnamon.

What you said made Tara feel something she doesn’t feel often. Appreciated? Well, she always wants to listen to others when calling, then she might go second, but when you brought up her going first? That made her feel fireworks.

“Okay, what do you want to know first?”

“What’s your favorite memory and why?”

As an hour, then two passes, you begin to tell Tara about yourself. She’s never felt so heard before. Both your lamps are off, now the only light from each others screens.

She can tell you’re beginning to doze off. The way you’re pausing and blinking sleepily before murmuring a little too softly.

“What is something that you hate?”

You don’t say anything for a moment, your light breaths heard on the other end as you shift slightly and prop up your phone.

“Peppercorns..” You yawn, keeping your eyes half open. “They’re fine for seasoning, but when I bite into them, god.. It tastes so bad..”

You pause again, eyes heavy as you blink. “When you feel like you have to change for other people to like you. When you have to be someone you’re not because of people that don’t make you feel like you can be yourself.”

Tara nods, rubbing her eyes as she admires your defined features, even from the darkness. She could see the softness too. If she looked enough.

“I think those people make me feel the worst. Not wanting to be the one laughed at so you change to the one that’s laughing. Or when people talk down on the things you love. It hurts. And that’s something that I hope no one goes through.”

Wow, something about that makes her get to know the kind of person you are by a landslide.

“That’s a good response. What about your favorite fruit?”

“Mmm.. Watermelon. The sweet ones.. It’s so refreshing and…” You trail off, your eyes closing as your breathing evens out. Your lips were slightly parted, your puppy making a small whimper as he snuggles into you.

It’s silent, except for the faint white noise from Tara’s ceiling fan. You looked like a dream. Everything you talked about made Tara see nothing but good. And knowing that makes her feel like she should start seeing things the way you do.

A car passes by, the softest lyrics playing, it lulls Tara to bed.

We were listening to lovers rock

In her bedroom

You both fall asleep on call, maybe people were meant for each other.

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x you #vada cavell x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega imagines #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #cairo sweet x y/n

540 notes · View notes

milkcos · 5 months

Text

lemonade mouth/band au! more notes under the cut

lemonade as in like the disney movie! so there are a couple like clear comparisons but mostly it's the bad kids get stuck in detention together except they form a band instead of an adventuring party

fabian > no equivalent (olivia vibes)

the most popular kid at school who is both in dance and on the football team. somehow gets decent grades as well. no close friends, but a lot of people who know him and want to get on his good side. kind of depressed, and his dad's currently in prison. he started playing the guitar as a way to show off and then genuinely started enjoying it

adaine > mo

she's a concert violist (playing the viola) always an accompaniment for her sister and is striking it out on her own for the first time. her family is very upset about this, and consistently puts her down so she'll go along with they want her to do. also she recently transitioned to going to public school for the first time, making her the new girl.

kristen > no equivalent

she's recently ex mormon, got out of her parents house (currently living in her car) and without all of her former friends stuck in a student president position that she got when she was still with the religion. questioning her sexuality after one too many encounters with the soccer team captain, tracker. used to be on the church choir, was a bit too enthusiastic about it.

gorgug > no equivalent (charlie vibes)

he's got like one or two kinda friends (mainly fig). extremely busy with his classes and with marching band and self isolating as a result. he's stressed out about living up to his parent's name (they run a very successful electric engineering company). signed up to work as a sound tech for the theatre department bc one of the female stage managers is very cute (zelda) and then discovered that he rlly like it.

riz > no equivalent

no friends! (other than maybe the AV club + penny) too used to burying himself in work at both his part time gig and with his insane amount of extracurriculars. started playing the piano bc he heard it helps with memory retention and overall cognitive ability.

fig > stella/wen

she's the cool loner skater kid who is the floater friend mostly? she's got a maybe relationship with ayda, who she loves to annoy at the school library. very interested in making her own music not very interested in school. freaking out over her parents getting remarried. her mom enrolled her in music lessons when she was younger, and it's one of the only things she can talk about with her mom these days.

572 notes · View notes

inksoakedparchment · 2 months

Text

Eating habits*

pairing: theo x fem!reader (preferred house)

genre: fluff x smut

tw: body dysmorphia, eating disorder, swearing, sex, my english

word cunt: 1656

summary: theo notices that you aren’t eating lately, wearing oversized clothes and being sad, so he decides to go to your dorm after the curfew

a/n: so i decided to write this little oneshot to comfort myself about my body. i hope you’ll gonna enjoy it. tysm @sunkissedscribbles for the help<3

other works

dividers by @adornedwithlight

Today at dinner Theo only has eyes for you, what you don’t notice. He sees that you’re just playing with your chicken and mashed potatoes. After a while you stand up, wish goodnight to everyone then go back to your dorm. You quickly take a shower, but stop in front of the mirror, checking yourself out. You’re squeezing your belly, thighs, and arm thinking how fat still you are. After a sigh, you put on your pyjamas - an oversized t-shirt and panties. You curl up under the blanket, waiting to fall asleep.

But, someone starts knocking on the door. Without your permission, they enter the room.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” you immediately recognize the voice and turn to him.

“I am, but what are you doing here?” you look at the clock. “Theo it’s almost midnight,” you shake your head in disbelief. He shuts the door behind him and sits down on your bed, next to you.

“Why didn’t you eat at dinner? You’ve only been eating at lunch, I noticed it. What’s the matter?” he asks gently, looking into your eyes. The only light in the room is the moon peeping through the window, which is perfectly enough to see his worried expression.

“Everything’s okay. No need to worry,” you force a smile onto your lips.

“Y/N, I’m not stupid! It’s obvious, that something has been off lately. Tell me, Y/N! Please!” he almost begs.

“It’s… Nothing, really,” you pull the blanket up to cover your legs and stomach.

“For Merlin’s sake,” he puts a hand on your face, caressing it with his thumb. “You’re my best friend, you can tell me anything cara mia,” this fucking nickname again. He can’t imagine how you feel when he calls you this. As your heart is beating more rapidly, his touch sends shivers down your spine.

You have had a crush on him since fifth year. You always see him with prettier and prettier girls and hear about who he had shagged. With time you became more insecure about your body and started skipping breakfast first and, lately dinner too. You lost some weight, but not enough for your liking. You feel like you’re not enough for him or for anyone else. You have always been the fat, funny friend, who’s unloveable and who no one wants - at least you thought you were - you can’t imagine how your best friend can be insecure with that skinny and muscular body she has, but you understand how she feels. But still… The question is on your mind every moment - why? She’s smart and gorgeous, the boys are head over heels for her. She can play the acoustic and the electric guitar, the piano, she can paint, she writes poems and songs. You want to be like her, but you just can’t. Your body doesn’t let you.

“I hate looking in the mirror but I can't stop doing it,” you say quietly, avoiding eye contact. “I feel like a cow with my fat stomach, thighs and arms. My double chin is not adding beauty to the picture either,” you shut your eyes, breathing heavily. “I feel unloveable, I’m not enough. I’m not enough for you, for our friends,” tears start running down your cheeks.

“Cara mia, you’re beautiful. The most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” he wipes your tears away, holding your face in his hands. “And what do you mean by 'you’re not enough for me, and for our friends'?”

“Feels like they look at me differently because I’m not…” he patiently waits for you to continue “I’m not skinny. I’m not muscular either, just fat and maybe funny?” you whisper and finally you look into his eyes.

Theo’s eyes are full of tears and as he closes them, tears are running down his cheeks too. Just like on yours.

“Y/N… I’ve never thought you were feeling like this. But what did you mean by not being enough for me?” he caresses your face.

“You are always with gorgeous girls, shagging them and… I just know I never gonna be like them. I won’t be someone who you are going to like, to want, to love,” you whisper the last few words.

“Y-you love me?” he asks, gobsmacked.

“I love you, Theo. For more than a year now,” you take a deep breath.

“Y/N, first; those girls can never compare to you in my eyes, second; you are the most beautiful, gorgeous girl inside and outside I’ve ever seen, and third; I love you too, cara mia,” he kisses your forehead. You just sit there with your jaw dropped and he can see the surprise in your eyes. “Ah and before I forget, every time I see you, my pants are too tight for me,” a half smile appears on his lips.

Without thinking, you grab the back of his neck and press your lips to his. His lips are so sweet and soft. Your tongues are crashing, then dancing in sync with each other passionately. Theo’s hands push the blanket off you, then start roaming all over your body, slipping under your t-shirt and touching you with pure desire and lust. As his hand approach your breast, immediately clip your nipple between his thumb and index fingers. You moan into the kiss, and Theo has already taken off his shirt and unzipped his pants.

“You aren't wearing underwear, amore. I know you were waiting for me,” he whispers in your ear, kissing and sucking your soft skin from your neck to your collarbone.

Theo takes off your t-shirt and a groan escapes from his mouth as he’s admiring your body. You try to cover your chest with your arms, but he pins both of your hands against your head. He leans onto your nipple and bites it gently, kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin of yours. You’re moaning, panting and you feel like some kind of instrument. He's playing on you, and you give him the sounds he wants to hear.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love hearing your voice, I want to make you scream my name. And you will,” he grins and starts going lower, giving kisses every centimetre of your stomach, then he finally arrives between your thighs. “I would like to die between your legs, I would let you choke me with your thighs while my face is buried in your pussy. I would die with happiness,” he murmurs while licking your inner thighs.

You’re shaking as he disappears between your legs and when you first feel his warm tongue teasing your clit, the air stuck in your lungs then comes out with a loud moan. You grab his hair and push his face more into your pussy. Without any warning, two fingers join his tongue and you feel like you’re in heaven.

“Theo!” you almost scream his name as he pushes you closer to the edge.

“Not yet, amore,” he smiles and pulls his fingers out of you. You groan in disappointment. “Look how impatient you are,” he smirks, reaches out for his jeans to take out a condom from his pocket, and gets rid of his pants.

Your lips part in shock as you look at his ‘little’ friend. Man, his dick is big.

“The rumours are true as I see,” you blush and check him out.

“All yours,” he rolls the condom on his penis and positions himself between your legs. “Fuck, I forgot to ask, are you a virgin?” his eyes darken when you don't answer, he hides his face in your neck. “I’m going to be slow and gentle… at first,” he groans as he slowly enters.

You feel the pressure, the pain but he kisses your lips, neck and breasts to make you feel better. When you get used to his size, you lift your hips, to give him permission. He slowly starts moving and you moan when he picks up the pace. The sounds of your bodies connecting give you two euphoria.

“For Merlin’s sake, you’re so perfect, so tight, so hot,” he pants on your lips and kisses you deeply and slowly, and he slows down too. “I want to make love with you, cara mia. We can fuck whenever we want,” he whispers with a smirk and kisses your forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Theo,” the orgasm starts to build in your body and you’re clawing his back.

“Me too, amore. I’m close too,” he whispers and gently bites your neck. You only need him to thrust into you one last time and the orgasm hits you from nowhere, while you’re moaning his name. He groans your name too while your bodies are shaking in the intense pleasure. He rolls off you and quickly throws away the used condom.

“Come here,” he pulls you close to himself and you lean your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I hope you did it because you love me and not because you’re sorry for me,” you swallow while anxiety climbs up to your throat.

“Cara mia, I love you. If I have to tell you every day, I will. You deserve nothing less than the maximum,” he caresses your hair and gives a kiss into it. “You’re incredible, the perfect woman is next to me. I hope you'll never leave me,” he says quietly, not breaking the intimate moment.

“I love you, Theo. And I'd never do so,” You sigh and snuggle to him, covering yourselves with your blanket. “Sleep with me, please,” you ask him.

“I didn't plan to leave anytime soon,” he chuckles and starts tracing circles on your arm with his finger.

You sigh with relief and his closeness, his smell and the heat coming from his body make you fall asleep faster than you thought.

“Sweet dreams, cara mia,” that’s the last thing you hear before you pass out in his arms.

tag list: @sunkissedscribbles

comment if you want to be on the tag list<3

179 notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 1 year

Text

brooklyn baby (01/?)

i've got my eye on you

pairing: rockstar!aemond × fem!reader

summary: you go with your cousins to a concert of the band "Dragon Dynasty" in Brooklyn, although you are not a fan of the band, the guitarist catches your attention.

word count: 7.7k

series masterlist • next part

hello beautiful people, here I am again with a new fic! I'm so happy and very excited to start this, I hope you like it a lot, that you enjoy it and I'm looking forward to your support and your comments that I always love to answer:) seriously you guys are amazing!

I still don't know how many chapters this story will have but it won't be more than 10, so wait for them. thank you very much for reading loves, enjoy!

warnings: none yet.

He is so majestic.

It's the first thing you think when the band finally comes out on stage and the concert starts, causing the screams of a bunch of girls all around you all over the place, all of them joined by your cousins, Baela and Rhaena.

You don't even understand how the three of you managed to make it to the front, just Baela and Rhaena acted in survival mode and started dragging you all over the place, making their way through the crowd to get face to face with all the band members.

And now… you're sure that by the time this is all over, tomorrow the two of them won't have a voice because of all the screaming.

At first you thought it would just be another band that doesn't have a big audience and that even though it's a band you don't know, you'd still have a good time. Although it's not like it was an option not to come, your cousins literally forced you to.

However, you're surprised to see that the place is full and all the girls are going crazy, as well as your cousins already made sure to tell you all about the band, tell you what you need to know and show you their favorite songs all the way here.

Basically the band, Dragon Dynasty, just debuted at the end of last year and is already getting some pretty good recognition.

And not only for the music, but also for the appearance… peculiar, of all the members.

When Rhaena showed you pictures of all of them, either as a group or individually, you understood the obsession of both of them. They all have platinum hair and look as if they had stepped out of the very palace of the Greek Gods, all absolutely attractive and very sexy.

And now seeing them in person, just a few feet away from you, is very different from seeing them in their social media photos.

The lead singer, Aegon Targaryen, is the one who introduces all the band members and starts the concert. And every time he approaches the edge of the stage, the girls again scream, as they scream at every verse he sings.

Then Rhaena records and focuses more on the bass player, Luke, with his short platinum hair and sitting on one of the speakers, focused on his notes. While Baela, of course, focuses on the drummer named Jace, Luke's older brother.

You understand from the great information your cousins gave you about all of them that they are all brothers, except that Jace and Luke are cousins of the vocalist Aegon, the piano guy and the guy who plays the electric guitar, the last three being brothers.

You focus for a moment on the piano guy, who from Baela's information, he is the same age as Jace. He definitely has an incredible resemblance to his brothers and from time to time he smiles towards the crowd, or rather towards the girls, who of course scream and go completely crazy with those simple gestures.

But when you look at him… the guitarist… you immediately can't take your eyes off him.

When your cousins showed you the pictures of all of them, it was precisely him who caught your attention the most of all, Aemond Targaryen.

At first you thought that his pictures with that aesthetic on him were just for the band, as a way to draw attention, however, Rhaena explained to you that he doesn't really have a left eye.

In some photos he has a black patch on and in some others he doesn't, so instead there is a shiny ocean blue stone, like a sapphire, inside where his eye should be. And when Rhaena explained to you that this is how he really lives, it definitely caught your attention a lot more.

But not only for that, also for his style of clothes, whether they were black or black with white, as well as his expressions in the photos did not really show much.

In all of them he didn't look at the camera, he was always looking away with a serene and serious look at the same time, to show himself in the same way every time he looked at the camera with his guitar at all times and his platinum hair long and completely loose.

And now to see him in person… he still looks the same way, serious and completely focused on his guitar, except for his brothers and cousins who focus on the audience from time to time, but not him.

And just like that, you can't take your eyes off of him, as if he were an invisible attractive force, delighted by the way he focuses on playing his notes, his fingers moving across the strings and his bare arms showing you some tattoos on his pale skin.

Everything about him… it's just alluring, sexy, mysterious and at the same time… dangerous, as if it's not right to involve you somehow with him, but being so striking and exciting at the same time.

"They're great, huh?"

Baela shouts to you over the music, with a huge excited smile, as you nod, really unable to stop focusing on him.

"Yes, they are."

Actually the band is really good, regardless of the looks of the members, because what looks.

The songs are like a mix of Arctic Monkeys, The Neighbourhood, Cigarettes After Sex and some Lana del Rey type instrumentals, they also have more danceable songs in the style of The 1975, but all with cool guitar and drum instrumentals.

You really like them, the style of their music is to your liking, but again… you can't help but focus on him.

The concert lasts a little more than an hour, where during some little intermissions, you saw how he was lighting a cigarette and playing the guitar at the same time, so it was more and more impossible to take your eyes off him, listening how sometimes the girls were shouting his name and he was greeting them back with a simple nod of his head, that being enough to drive them crazy.

And by the time everything ends, the vocalist Aegon starts to say goodbye to all the members with an euphoria and an energy that he gave off all over the audience so that they would react in the same way.

"I want to hear loud cheers for our drummer, Jace!"

Baela screams like crazy next to you, leaving you completely stunned, as well as more girls around you, while the mentioned stands up from his seat and waves goodbye to all of them, smiling.

"To our pianist, my little brother, Daeron!"

More shouts, as he also waves goodbye with his hands and with a charming and flirtatious smile to all the girls, moving closer to the stage, that making many girls come closer to the edge, wanting to touch him, as he laughs and takes several of them by the hand.

"To our bassist, Luke!"

Rhaena is now the one who leaves you stunned from your left ear, as more girls shout, while the boy smiles and looks a little shy, looking very cute, waving goodbye to all of them with his hand, then lowering his gaze with his cheeks slightly blushing.

You see how Aemond next to him gives him a friendly tap on his shoulder, watching him with a small half smile and looking somewhat amused by his behavior, that catching your attention a lot, since you didn't see him smile much towards his audience.

"Now for our guitarist, Aemond!"

You clap, but don't shout, seeing how immediately the place is filled with screams and more applause, realizing that even though he's not very expressive and doesn't react much to the audience, still the girls are completely crazy about him.

And you don't blame them, it's obvious that's because of how incredibly handsome and sexy that man is.

However, even so he doesn't react much again to his applause, only waves goodbye with one of his hands, really watching everyone expressionless, reading on his lips as he says "thank you" and then turns around and picks up a bottle of water.

You bite your lips, still watching him, when finally Aegon gives the closing.

"And at last your server, ladies!" says the vocalist in a flirtatious manner, again the place exploding in cheers, "That's been all Brooklyn, thank you so much for having us. See you next time, we love you guys!"

He does get closer to the audience, instantly the guards react to take care of him, while he takes everyone's hands and also takes some bracelets or necklaces that the girls give him, while he smiles and blows kisses.

The rest of the members start to leave the stage, while Aegon continues to take all the screams and those little gifts, really getting along very well with the audience, to finally after a few moments, say goodbye and leave the stage.

"Did you like them?"

Rhaena asks you as the three of them stand, waiting for all the other girls to leave the not so big but not so small club.

"Yes, their songs are fine," you nod to her.

"Their songs or the guitarist rather?" Baela asks you with a mischievous look.

"Oh come on," you give her a look of few friends, still nerves giving you away.

"I knew it!" squeals Rhaena with a huge smile, "I knew you weren't more asking about him than the others for nothing."

"And I don't blame you," adds Baela, "With those tattoos who wouldn't be crazy about him?"

"But you like Jace and he doesn't have tattoos."

"Aemond is fine, like exaggeratedly fine," she clarifies, "But I feel like I wouldn't stand a chance with him, plus he's too serious and too closed off for my taste," she explains.

"But Y/N did like him," Rhaena says, folding her arms, watching you with a huge smile.

You roll your eyes, amused.

"I think the same as Baela, I feel like I wouldn't be able to get close to him, he looks very… serious and distant," you say finally, " Beside it's not like I'm going to get the chance, he's just a guy in a band that I liked, just like I like Harry and Zayn from One Direction or Alex Turner from Arctic Monkeys."

"Oh he's so hot," Rhaena says with a little giggle.

"Who of the three of them?" asks Baela.

"The three of them."

You nod, more than agreeing with her.

"Anyway…" says Balea, "Turning our focus back to this band, maybe you can get close to the sexy guitarist tonight."

"Hm?" you say instantly not understanding, looking at her confused.

Then from her bag Baela pulls out what appear to be three rectangular sheets of paper, but when you look closely, they are actually three tickets to who knows what.

"These are tickets to the band's after party," she says excitedly.

At first you don't finish processing anything, watching her like a fool, when Rhaena squeals more than happy and in disbelief, instantly grabbing you both by the arm to rush out of the club in the direction of the party, while you're still processing and asking Baela how she got those tickets.

"Savings," she tells you simply and without much explanation.

Leaving the club is a bit difficult because of all the other girls who are also trying to leave, when the three of you are already arriving at the corresponding small pub where the after party will be, which in fact is right behind the club where the band gave the concert, so getting there doesn't take any time at all.

Once outside the pub, there are other girls waiting to get in, all excited and impatient, some of them have their own band t-shirts and posters for the band to sign. And at the entrance there are two huge men, asking for tickets and complying with security protocol to let them in.

"Help me take a picture with Luke when it's my turn, please," Rhaena asks you.

"Sure."

"Me too," Baela says instantly, "With Jace."

"Okay," you tell her amused.

Then finally all three of you hand the tickets to the seemingly bodyguard, only to enter without any trouble as you go through security protocols as well.

Rhaena shakes you by the arm excitedly, trying to control herself, as the three of you walk into the place, where you instantly recognize those platinum hairs spread all over the pub, already receiving the fans.

The place is considerably spacious, it doesn't feel as suffocating as at the concert and there's definitely more room to move around despite the fact that more girls are constantly coming in to meet the guys.

The bar is free, there is light rock music playing in the background and there are more bodyguards watching out.

You see how all the fans line up and wait their turn with each respective member, being the first to recognize the vocalist, Aegon, who more than smiling signs T-shirts, posters, hats and even phone cases. Also the pianist, Daeron, who takes selfies and also signs.

But when Rhaena identifies Luke, she quickly squeals and prepares to go to him with her T-shirt ready to be signed by him in hand, as does Baela, focusing on Jace.

You walk Rhaena over first, promising Baela to keep an eye out for her for when it's her turn with Jace, then start lining up, trying to calm your cousin's nerves as you sense she'll throw up at any moment or be unable to speak coherently to the bassist.

Then when Rhaena gets distracted on her phone, setting up the camera for pictures, you instantly think of the guitarist and start looking for him.

However, the only ones you see are Aegon, Daeron, Luke and Jace, with no fifth long platinum hair. Confused, you go back over the whole place, really him nowhere to be seen, realizing that there are girls specifically with posters of him, also just like you looking for him, all of them confused and disappointed.

And you don't understand, isn't he supposed to be here too?

You find it strange that out of all of them, it is him especially who doesn't make any appearance, while all the other members do attend to their fans, apparently not worried about the absence of their guitarist or anyone else actually, just the fans.

Inevitably you also start to get disappointed, but you immediately focus on Rhaena, as her turn will be soon and she insists that you help her calm down, giving her encouragement and support.

When the time comes.

The boy, Luke, is actually very sweet, instantly giving his full attention to Rhaena, who acts just as shy as he is, looking excited as the two gently embrace, while he asks her name and introduces himself to her as well.

He signs her T-shirt, also her phone case, all while they both talk, to then move on to the selfie and finally the photo, while you watch with a small smile as the boy's cheeks blush and Rhaena is more than excited and nervous at the same time, hugging him and smiling for the photo.

"This is my cousin, by the way, Y/N," Rhaena shyly introduces you to him as they both separate.

"Oh, hi Y/N, I'm Luke," the boy says to you with a charming smile, not being able to cause you more tenderness, "Thanks for coming."

"Hi," you say smiling, "Nice to meet you, Luke."

You take advantage of the moment and also take a selfie with him and Rhaena, where the three of you come out all smiles, without his cheeks stop blushing, and then pass the next fan.

Rhaena can't stop smiling, again shaking your arm excitedly and on the verge of collapsing with happiness, as she quickly goes through the photos, announcing that she will upload them to her Instagram stories this instant.

You laugh and then she heads off to line up to meet Daeron now, while you now head to Baela.

Unlike with Rhaena and Luke, you can clearly identify your cousin's flirting methods and surprisingly Jace reacts completely to her, looking just as flirty as she does, talking in her ear and both of them very close to each other.

You take their picture and get excited for your cousin, seeing how both of them even after the picture talk to each other, still very close, with that clear interest in the body behavior of both of them, but more of him towards her.

And you don't blame him either, no doubt your cousins are very beautiful, you always tell them every day and they tell you too.

At the end Baela also introduces you with Jace, he also looking very nice and friendly like his little brother, just not as cute, but very sexy.

Then after finishing with Jace, Baela turns to Rhaena, getting her in line to meet Daeron where both of them will now help each other with the pictures, so you head to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools, observing everything and taking the opportunity to order a free drink.

"Can I have a gin and tonic, please?" you ask the bar tender.

"Of course," the man says politely.

While he prepares your drink, you take the opportunity to check your social media, entertaining yourself for a moment and also looking at the time, realizing that it's almost midnight, so you'll probably be home by two in the morning.

You let out a long breath and at that moment the bar tender hands you the gin and tonic, you thank him and start drinking, relaxing and keeping your eye on your cousins.

When at that moment you remember him again, Aemond, so hopefully you look around the place again, looking for him, but you are surprised to see that there is still no sign of him, really confusing you.

The girls who were also looking for him before, line up to take pictures with Aegon, but like you, they also seem to be looking for him, without success.

It continues to seem weird to you and you feel really disappointed, just realizing in that instant how terribly disappointed you are, as if you've been a fan of his for months, when you've only just met him tonight, telling yourself what the hell is wrong with you.

So time passes, you watch as your cousins after meeting Daeron, head to Aegon, nothing really being quick as they take their time with each fan, until you finish your gin and tonic, not ordering anything else as you must be driving and stand at the bar, waiting.

It's until a few minutes later that you decide to go to the restroom, asking the bar tender where they are and he points you to a hallway at the back, instantly thanking him and heading that way.

You see how in the hallway there are four doors and you head to the two at the back, having the signs for the women's restroom and men's restroom, but when you try to open the door, it doesn't open, being occupied, realizing that it's only one restroom instead of several.

You let out a long breath, as this is common in small pubs, having to wait in the hallway, leaning against the wall for the girl inside to come out.

Again you distract yourself with your phone, holding back the urge to pee, trying not to get desperate, glancing from time to time through the hallway entrance at all the girls out there, being able to see your cousins from this distance, not long before it's their turn to meet Aegon.

You bite your lips and continue to wait, when as you are leaning between the wall and under the frame of one of the other doors that you have no idea where they go, it suddenly opens and you almost lose your balance, stabilizing yourself instantly and moving away, watching the person with some surprise and shame.

When the nerves and the surprise invade you completely, seeing that it is him, the guitarist.

He really looks at you without any expression on his face, while you place the appropriate distance between the two of you in this small hallway, still looking at him surprised and like an idiot, instantly telling yourself off to act normal, still watching him carefully.

And how could you not? The man is absolutely beautiful.

Compared to the concert, you have him face to face, his features being more than perfectly visible, admiring the shape of his lips and nose, as if it had been carefully carved, then nervously observing his intense blue eye and his sapphire eye, looking amazing and beautiful to you.

Then you quickly observe his various tattoos on both arms, recognizing a musical note, tree branches, birds, a moon and other figures you don't instantly identify, but you notice perfectly how he has a dragon on his shoulder.

Again you look him in the eye, getting instantly nervous because he is already watching you intensely, looking away from him because of the same nerves, having no idea how to really react since he doesn't move, neither do you and you feel unable to speak, feeling a lump in your throat.

He is simply too handsome and too sexy.

You think in the midst of all your nervousness, when the two of you are simply there, not far away but not too close either, suddenly feeling the hallway too small and feeling out of nowhere suffocated, not understanding what's wrong with you.

"Are there many people out there?"

He asks you suddenly, definitely not expecting that, as he stands still in the doorway, watching you, while you barely process the sound of his voice, watching him like an idiot for a moment.

React!

Your mind reprimands you, really not wanting to embarrass yourself with him, much less when he's just asked you something.

You clear your throat and control yourself, to look back towards the center of the pub, where there are indeed a lot of girls and there are many especially who want to see him. You bite your lips and return your nervous, attentive gaze to him, realizing that he hasn't even come out into the hallway, keeping himself hidden in that room.

"Yes," you finally say to him, trying to sound like a normal person, not letting your nerves completely get the better of you.

He lets out a long breath, then averts his gaze from yours and you watch as he carefully peeks out of the doorframe, this catching your attention, as he inspects everything and honestly looks a little irritated, which you don't understand why.

And at that moment you don't know if you should, considering he still wants to keep himself hidden, but also Baela's voice tells you: bitch, take advantage and talk to him, you literally have him right in front of you!

Yes, that's something she would tell you if she saw you now.

"You're not a fan of being among so many people?"

You ask him softly, overcoming your nerves, but again you feel your heart leap in your chest as he looks at you again.

"Not much," he answers you.

And at that moment, you only admire more of his handsome features he offers you as you stand face to face with his profile, actually making you very nervous. And his answer actually makes sense to you.

He on stage is very calm and quiet, so now having to be among all the fans, it really doesn't seem to be his strongest suit.

"Still a lot of girls are looking forward to seeing you," you tell him softly, "They all look very excited."

You see how he frowns a bit, not saying anything back to you, which alerts you a bit since you really don't want to ruin this opportunity by talking to him, even though it seems you already have, but… what did you say wrong?

He continues to look at you like that, so intensely, when then you see perfectly how he looks you up and down, definitely making you more nervous than before, and then you see how he puts his hands in his front pockets and leans on the door frame casually.

The image couldn't have infarcted you more, as he does everything in a calculated manner, movements so simple that they already completely steal your breath away, only for him to tilt his head and continue watching you with that intensity, but now also curious.

"And you don't?"

He asks you with that soft but so manly voice that makes you part your lips, completely weakening your legs, watching him for a moment without understanding while he watches you expectantly, but still with that sexy demeanor.

"You weren't expecting to see me?"

Oh my God.

You think, unable to answer him, your voice right now not working, much less when he continues with his burning gaze in your direction, now having no idea how to behave.

However, you know you must be behaving like a fool in his eye, so you force yourself to answer him but truthfully.

"Actually," you start to say, trying to control your nerves, "I'm waiting for the person in the restroom to come out," you point your gaze to the door, to again watch him.

Then he too watches the restroom door for a moment, to again focus on you, watching perfectly as he presses his lips together in a soft, thin line and then you see what appears to be a small, barely visible grin appear.

And even though you didn't see him smile much during the concert, nor does he do it in his band's promotional photos, now that you see him do it and only meters away from you, the man couldn't look more beautiful to you.

"Hm," is all he says, turning back to watching you like that, his gaze completely attentive and burning, all his attention on you.

Holy shit.

That's all you can think, watching him without taking your eyes off him, just as he does with you, again feeling the space suddenly very small and the air hot.

When suddenly, you see perfectly well how he opens his mouth to say something, taking a step forward, calling your full attention, but at the moment he does that, a girl at the beginning of the hallway shouts his name at the sight of him.

And that's when chaos breaks out.

The girl quickly heads towards him, excited, instantly being followed by a bunch of other girls, all holding caps and t-shirts for him to sign, wasting no time and completely breaking the spell between the two of you.

You watch Aemond again and he's already watching you, but instantly he starts giving attention to all the girls, being surrounded by all of them, to which you can't help but feel disappointed because the moment is over, since... you don't know what the fuck was going on a few seconds ago with him but you were enjoying it.

When at that moment the door to the women's restroom finally opens, a girl coming out of it but now being difficult to get back to the center of the pub because of Aemond and all his girls obstructing the way.

You head for the restroom, suddenly feeling that same attentive and burning gaze on your back again for a few seconds as you close the door behind you. You take all the time in the world, trying to calm your heart rate and trying to stop feeling your hot skin, processing what happened out there with him, really taking a considerable amount of time.

You realize you need Baela's advice, thinking about texting her right now and getting her to give you techniques so you don't get nervous, but you doubt she'll text back if she's still getting to know the rest of the members of the band.

However, you don't know if you should ask Aemond for a picture or not, not being very sure about it, but you know that if you don't ask him for a picture or an autograph, you will regret it tomorrow.

You let out a sigh, looking at yourself in the mirror and telling yourself that you have to control, that you shouldn't act like a fool and that you should behave as normal as possible, not letting your nerves get the better of you.

In the end you don't text anyone, you gather your courage and finally come out of the restroom.

The first thing you see is how Aemond is still there, only now with few girls, in fact finishing signing an autograph for them, to which you watch him carefully and attentively, again having no idea whether to go back to the center of the pub to find your cousins and get their advice before going back to him or ask for his autograph here, taking advantage of it.

But you don't even have anything he can sign for you, except your phone case.

However, the time to think and decide is over when the girls take a picture with him and then start to walk away, all of them looking at him with that excited gaze and of complete desire, while Aemond looks at them one last time and... he watches you again.

And there you have your nerves again, but you don't let them get the better of you, lowering your gaze for a moment, thinking quickly about what to say to him, feeling again that tension between the two of you now that you are alone again in this small hallway.

And at this, Aemond decides to act fast, considering the after party isn't over yet.

"Do you want me to sign something for you?"

He asks you while directing all his attention towards you, with those fucking movements he makes that aren't that big of a deal but completely steal your breath, standing completely still and watching him carefully.

Talk, act, react!

Your fed up and annoyed mind tells you, also Baela's voice if she saw you at this moment, so that's what you do, however, again you respond with the truth and with shame.

"Yes, I'd love to," you look at him nervous, "But I don't really have anything for you to sign."

"You bought tickets to our after party and you didn't bring anything the band can sign for you?"

Oh God.

You think on the verge of collapsing in embarrassment, as he again looks at you between slightly confused and curious.

"Well, I didn't know my cousin had bought tickets to meet you. It was actually her and my other cousin who brought me to the concert," you explain, trying not to show how really nervous you are, as he tilts his head in your direction.

"So you're not a fan," he assumes and you're so embarrassed that he's right.

"But... you were still amazing tonight," you tell him instantly, being terribly honest, "I liked your music and will definitely listen to it often."

He nods slowly in your direction, apparently now understanding you, watching you even with that curiosity and again that small, barely visible grin appearing on his lips, watching him run you from head to toe, not being able to make you any more nervous than you already are.

"Hm," he says in nod, "That explains why you didn't jump on me the second I opened the door."

You let out a nervous little laugh, looking away from him for a second.

"Disappointed?" you ask him a bit amused.

"Just a little."

You smile softly in his direction, not showing your teeth, as he continues to make you nervous and make you feel as if the space between you is very short and the air is hot as he continues to watch you like that, as if inspecting you and as if he wants to see right through you.

However, you know that the moment can be broken at any moment if more girls come looking for him, so you don't get your hopes up too high. When suddenly he averts his gaze and points you to the door through which he left a few moments ago.

"It's our break room," he tells you, "There are new t-shirts and posters in there, if you want I can sign one of them and give it to you."

Oh my...

You feel the excitement run through you, definitely not expecting that, starting to feel your heart rate accelerate, but you instantly get yourself under control and tell yourself that no way are you going to pass up the opportunity.

"Well, if it's no problem," you nod to him.

He starts backing away, as he heads for the door.

"Come."

And you don't hesitate to follow him.

He opens the door for you, watching you intently and again with that intensity, to which you again feel like your heart will probably jump out of your chest, from excitement and also from nerves, to finally enter the room.

You don't even know why but a shiver runs through your whole body, bristling your skin, as he closes the door behind you and walks past you, his arm gently brushing yours, feeling for an instant his burning skin.

He heads towards a table, while you watch him attentively and take a look at the room, not big but not small either, seeing how there are numerous backpacks, sound equipment, tables, chairs, a couch and also a table with snacks and bottles of water.

There are also the guitar cases, identifying his guitar on the couch, where he was probably sitting playing before, hiding from everyone out there. The noise here is less, you hear more the background music than voices, actually this space being very calm.

"What do you prefer?"

You suddenly hear him say to you, instantly causing you to stop surveying the room and focus on him, who is already watching you intently, pointing out the caps, t-shirts or posters on the table.

"Or do you want all three?" he observes you with that grin.

Focus, Y/N. You can do it.

You tell yourself, not wanting him to affect you any more than he's already affecting you or you'll ruin this moment by letting yourself get carried away by nerves, which is just what you don't want.

So you try not to focus too much on his mannerisms when he's talking to you.

"The shirt is fine," you point out to him.

You're not a big fan of the caps and posters you like but on this occasion... you're going more for the T-shirt.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

You choose the T-shirt in your size while he picks up a pen, then you hand it to him and he starts writing.

"What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeats slowly as he writes it down.

This sends a wave of excitement and nerves throughout your body because of the way he has said it, concentrating on his writing, while you watch him intently, still finding the shape of his face and also his hair majestic, looking more majestic having him right in front of you.

You really don't understand what's wrong with him but God... he's really beautiful.

"So you're not a fan hm?"

He says to you as he finishes signing and hands you the shirt, instantly placing a nervous little smile, taking it.

"Actually no. My cousins brought me, they were both very excited and needed someone to drive."

At this he again looks interested and turns around to lean against the edge of the table casually, crossing his arms, watching you, while you stand next to him and almost have to lift your whole head up to him so you can look him in the eye as you talk.

"You don't live in Brooklyn?"

You shake your head.

"Manhattan."

He frowns slightly.

"Manhattan?"

He repeats and you nod, watching him curiously for a moment as you watch him think in silence for a few seconds, then again watching you curious and confused at the same time.

"And why your cousins didn't buy tickets for the concert we're giving there next Friday?"

"Oh," you go blank for a moment, but react instantly, remembering, "Well, they did want to buy tickets, but they had credit card problems and by the time they fixed it, all the tickets were sold out and they bought the Brooklyn ones," you explain.

He doesn't say anything else to you for a few seconds, watching you intently, as he has been watching you all along, so intently that you feel your legs go weak, to which you nervously avert your gaze from him and look at the T-shirt in your hands, seeing his autograph.

And all you can think about is how crazy Baela and Rhaena will go when you tell them this.

"Pick something for your cousins," he says suddenly, making you look at him again, "I'll sign it too."

"Oh, sure, thanks."

You tell him with a nervous little smile to start choosing, beginning to believe that you'll never really stop feeling nervous in his presence, much less if you're both alone in this room.

For Rhaena you choose a poster for her, as she's a big fan of having lots of them of her favorite artists and sticking them all over her room, while for Baela you also choose a t-shirt.

You notice how Aemond walks away for a moment as you look for Baela's size, then return and begin to sign that for your cousins as well, again watching or rather subtly admiring his face of concentration as he begins to write.

"Here," he gives you everything, finishing.

"Thank you very much,"

You tell him sincerely, as he straightens up completely again, setting the pen down on the table and leaning back against the edge of it.

"You're welcome," he nods in your direction.

You look away, having no idea how to say goodbye to him, you don't even want the moment to end even though his gaze on you makes you feel so nervous, but for obvious reasons, your cousins must already be looking for you and you know he must be out here to attend to more of his fans.

"Hum... then I'll see you... out there, I guess," you smile at him, starting to walk away, "This was very kind of you."

"Wait."

He says to you suddenly, stopping your step, standing in front of him, as you watch him take a few more steps towards you, completely alerting you, but seeing him take a hand to the back of his pants, watching as he takes something from his pocket, confusing you but completely getting your attention.

Then his eye watches you back, his gaze so intense and so penetrating, as you watch him with your lips parted, this suddenly closeness suffocating you too much, not helping anything that the two of you are here alone.

However, he places his hand between the two of you, handing you something and when you look at it, confusion overtakes you further, seeing that they are tickets to his concert as they have the words 'Dragon Dynasty" printed in large letters on them.

"These are tickets for the concert in Manhattan, next Friday," he says softly, still hand them to you.

And even after explaining, you still don't finish processing anything, as he continues waiting for you to take them, while you continue to stand still and watch him like an idiot, slowly beginning to understand.

"B-but...

"Take them, Y/N," he says again, softly, watching you expectantly.

Take them? Just like that? For free?

You immediately deny, staring at him in confusion.

"No, but... I-I...wait, you...

"It's fine," she assures you, interrupting you.

"But you can't do this or can you?" you ask him totally bewildered and surprised, not believing it.

"Of course I can, in fact I'm doing it now," he tells you as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

But you continue to watch him confused, not understanding why he is doing this with you especially, again feeling the nerves invade you and the hot air hit you mercilessly, not being able to think straight.

"W-what? But...

"What is it?" he asks taking a step closer to you, stopping your heart for a second, "Don't you want to see me again?"

My God...

No. You can't do it anymore. It's right there when you lose it completely.

The way he has asked you, watching you completely attentively and with that barely visible grin, his body starting to invade your personal space, slowly leaning towards you, the space between you both ceasing to exist and all of him embracing you completely.

That delicious manly cologne hits your nostrils, also the slight smell of cigarette, everything about him being so alluring, so sexy, so mysterious and dangerous somehow.

And he does it all in such a calculating way... he doesn't even do it all that fast, he does it all slow, just the way he wants to catch you, while you slowly start to let yourself be carried away by him as well.

With your heart beating too fast, you look at the tickets in his hand and slowly raise your eyes to look at him, when he is already looking at you and just like that.

Don't you want to see me again?

His question repeats in your mind, at that moment no longer taking anything else into account. Because he is clearly flirting with you, and why do you not do the same?

"Do you want to see me again?"

You ask him in your soft, low voice, to which he only leans a little closer to you, that grin returning.

"Isn't it obvious?"

He tells you in the same way, his voice soft, low and completely calculating, his answer surprising and thrilling you, watching perfectly as he watches between your eyes and your lips, his eye completely full of desire, while you do the same.

You wonder what it will feel like to kiss him, how he will reciprocate, if soft or hard and if you will also feel his hands on your body, caressing you.

The atmosphere feels tense somehow, as you both start to invade each other's personal space, at the same time as your hand takes the tickets, all hot air and suddenly feeling that need to touch him, to kiss him, to feel him closer to you.

However, just as the small distance between the two of you starts to disappear, with all his delicious scent and his whole alluring body enveloping you completely, just at that damn moment the door suddenly opens.

You jump all the way back, scared and surprised, as the two of you stare at the door and Aegon is the responsible for the interruption.

"Dude, why are you still here? Cole's going to kill you if you don't come out this instant, you know? It's crazy out there, there's girls crying, they want to see you and you-oh....

He stops talking suddenly, barely in that instant realizing your presence as well even though you're standing next to Aemond, feeling embarrassment run through all your body, as he realizes what was probably going on here when he watches you both with his lips parted, so you lower your gaze in shame and bite your lips.

"My bad, sorry," he says and then slowly places a mischievous smile, now watching you and Aemond continuously, "I interrupted something, didn't I?"

You listen as Aemond clears his throat, no longer feeling the closeness of his body against yours, while you feel the embarrassment more.

"No," he tells him in a more serious voice and nothing compared to how he was speaking to you before.

"Oh," Aegon says again and you pluck up the courage to finally get out of here.

"Thank you," you say to Aemond without even looking at him, hurrying out of the room.

With all the things he signed in your hands and also the tickets, you don't even look at Aegon when you pass by his side, feeling so embarrassed and starting to feel your cheeks very hot, not bearing to be in his presences anymore.

And you don't even look back, you just run away, not being able to believe that you were about to make out with him, the sexy guitarist, Aemond.

You immediately look around like crazy for your cousins, seeing that Baela is taking a picture of Rhaena with Jace, so you quickly head towards them, acting normal, waiting for them to finish and by the time they do, you hand them the t-shirt and the poster.

"Where were you?" asks Baela confused.

"In the restroom and I got this for you," you say without much detail, the memory of Aemond's beautiful face near you still so fresh.

"Why are you so red?" asks you now Rhaena confused.

"I drank a gin and tonic," you lie, acting totally unconcerned with Aemond's lips about to touch yours still present .

"Did you talk to the sexy guitarist?" asks you Baela excited.

"Yes," you say acting unconcerned.

"And?"

"Nothing," you say with a shrug and she looks at you disappointed.

If only she knew.

But nothing ends there. Both of them now want a picture with Aemond even though they already have each his autograph, so you decide to wait again at the bar and they follow you, waiting for him to show up, you for anything in the world wanting to be near him again with your cousins around.

When then Aemond finally comes out of that hallway, appearing in the center of the pub with Aegon by his side, instantly you and him exchanging glances without even expecting it at all. And even with the embarrassment, you quickly avert your gaze from him, as the both begin to be surrounded by more girls, among them your cousins.

You're not sure exactly how much time passes, until finally Baela and Rhaena are satisfied and the three of you leave the pub, with half an hour left before the after party is over, but it's too late now and you have to drive.

However, before the three of you get in the car, you pull out the tickets that Aemond gave you for free and extend them to them.

"These are tickets for the concert in Manhattan, Aemond gave them to me," you say and then head for the driver's seat door, unlocking the doors.

And then all you hear as you start to leave your cousins behind are their screams.

During the whole ride, neither of them leave you alone, wanting to know exactly in detail what happened with the guitarist, Baela more than anything else feeling offended that you lied to her when she asked you if anything happened with him.

But when you tell them about everything and also about how the two of them almost kissed, she doesn't feel upset anymore and screams excitedly together with Rhaena, both surprised and unable to believe it, also unable to believe about the free tickets.

Luckily the questions don't last for the whole ride, so you also have time to think about him, Aemond, everything that happened with him and pretty much everything about him not leaving your thoughts alone as you drive from Brooklyn to Manhattan.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

481 notes · View notes

nogenderbee · 1 month

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕠 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @wabatle request: ASK FOR OBEY ME REQUESTS AND I SHALL DELIVER!!!!

anywayssss can I req the brothers (but if all of the brothers are too much just Lucifer, Satan, and Asmo pls!) + Diavolo with an mc that's INSANELY GOOD at playing the electric guitar please?

Thank you pookie you're the best 🤭🥰😍💗

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ THANK YOUUU I choosed the option with less chars hope you don't mind -w-"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Lucifer plays on piano and you play on electric guitar... he listens to classic music, you most likely listen to something harder, you're literally opposites!

✧ the only thing you share is most likely that you're good with hands...

✧ your instruments don't match tho so unfortunely you have no way of playing together...

✧ as for different tastes... it never hurts to try, right? As long as you won't insult his taste, he won't insult yours. And who knows? Maybe the two of you will find some nice songs that you normally wouldn't even reach for?

✧ he's definitely a bit surprised when you tell him you do it professionally, but he's also interested second after...

✧ maybe he never considered playing on electric guitar but now he certainly thinks about at least trying... especially with you as his teacher

"You want me to try this badly? Maybe later... I'd like to see you on piano as well, are you aware, my dear? So do we got each other a deal~?"

✧ he's not really the best player... he may not want to admit it, but you can see his fingerprints aren't really used to strings

✧ as for you... if you won't success at playing piano either, he'll tease you just a little bit

✧ tho if you are... he'll be proud of you, but also his pride is slightly hurt that you had no problem playing on his instrument...

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@wabatle - come get your scary brother!

✧ Satan definitely has some electric guitar solos and songs on his playlists... I mean he's literally avatar of wrath! It just kinda goes along that he'd let it out in way of stronger music... plus it's opposite taste of Lucifer's which adds onto it...

✧ he doesn't play himself but he still knows a lot about it

✧ he asked you quite straightforward to just play something for him, expecting to catch something he may correct but... it was harder than he imagined...

"Well... Maybe you should learn more advanced chords- You were just warming up? Alright, I'm listening..."

✧ surprised that you're actually professional with electric guitar but after a day he's already used

✧ will say stuff like "my lover's better at playing electric guitar than you're at playing piano" to Lucifer just to piss him off

✧ if you actually win in the little competition he made against eldest brother tho... he's gonna have the time of his life by rubbing it into his face whenever he gets the chance

✧ other than that, he actually likes hearing you play! Especially if you're playing more aggressive songs, he finds it a bit calming!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@miya-akane @wabatle - come get your cat lover!

✧ you can't tell me Asmo doesn't find it hot whenever you play electric guitar for him

✧ he'll shamelessly beg you to play a song for him, while he watches you or does his make up

✧ but you'll always get the best and loudest applause from him, followed by big hug and wave of kisses!

✧ he loves the most the finger play you do during complicated solos

"Well that's quite an experienced~ I dare say even better than mine! Hehe~ Oh c'mon, it was a compliment, darling!"

✧ he wanted to learn how to play guitar untill you told him he can't have long nails whole doing so

✧ now he sees playing on guitar as a curse... so! He does his best to plan aesthetic short nails design for you, so they'll fit your style and guitar design!

✧ whenever you come over, he'll make you sit down so he can do or fix your nails first and only later he'll let you play on guitar

✧ he gushes a lot to everyone he meets about you whenever the topic drops even slightly to music. He's just such a proud boyfriend!!

✧ you never have to worry about not knowing what to play or learn around him too... he goes to so many parties, he usually gives you few ideas, be it for songs that already exist or for your own songs

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@vodka-glrl @wabatle - come get your pretty princess~

✧ Diavolo is the type to appreciate any talent, especially if you're so dedicated towards it

✧ maybe Barbatos sent you annoyed glare when you payed such a hard songs in the middle of castle but... if it doesn't disturbs Diavolo, than what can he do?

✧ I feel like he'd actually enjoy how electric guitar sounds and may even get so into it he tries finding some songs dedicated for that instrument

✧ definitely asked you if you could teach him how to play electric guitar out of pure curiosity

✧ he's actually pretty good at it! He may not get it first time but he's definitely a fast learner

✧ if he was as dedicated as you, you two could probably play together, but he has slightly different interests too...

✧ tho he mostly still enjoys listening to you play! He won't even mind it if you play a song or two while he's doing his work

"Oh no, no need to leave! Your music helps me concertate. But if you're bored, I have few ideas what we can do during my quick break!"

✧ he'll definitely get you into few concerts if that's your dream and you bet he'll be there cheering for you!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@wabatle - come get your childish ruler!

85 notes · View notes

razorblade180 · 6 months

Text

Nick: *plays Moonlight Sonata on piano*

Weiss:( He really does take after me.)

Summer: *adds electric guitar*

Weiss:(And then there’s the actual mini me.) Jaune I might’ve robbed you in the genetic and personality department.

Jaune:I can love you three times over.

Weiss:Awww

Jaune:They also know how to cook and we know who gave them that.

Weiss:I’m better now!!!

#rwby #rwby whiteknight #weiss schnee #jaune arc #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #rwbabies

170 notes · View notes

best-overplayed-song · 1 year

Text

fun facts

the melody of "Yesterday" came to Paul McCartney while he was asleep: "I had a piano by my bedside, and I must have dreamed it, because I tumbled out of bed and put my hands on the piano keys and I had a tune in my head. It was just all there, a complete thing. I couldn’t believe it. It came too easy"

“Yesterday” is the most covered song in history, with over 2,000 versions having been recorded

in the days after the Kennedy assassination, Paul Simon locked himself in the bathroom and composed the melody of "The Sound of Silence".

Paul Simon originally wrote the song as an acoustic ballad for their debut, Wednesday Morning, 3 AM, but Simon & Garfunkel’s first single version died and the album was considered a commercial failure. Later in ‘65, while Simon was in England, Tom Wilson asked members of Bob Dylan’s studio band to add electric guitar and drums. Columbia released the amplified Silence, which became a hit before Simon and Garfunkel had even heard it

#best overplayed song bracket #tumblr bracket #tournament poll #the beatles #simon and garfunkel

624 notes · View notes

urdreamgirls-dreamgirl · 10 months

Text

September 1986

It’s a Saturday when they finally make it up to Bloomington. Steve had to bribe Robin into taking his afternoon shift by promising he’d take three of her Monday mornings in a row. It sucked, but looking over at Eddie in his passenger’s seat, hair whipping around him as he head bangs to whatever music he’s got playing on Steve’s car radio, he thinks it’s probably worth it.

It takes them an hour to get there and once they reach the city limits, Steve has to turn down the music so Eddie can direct him to the store he’s been coming to for the last ten years.

“Used to come here as a kid, when I first moved in with Wayne,” Eddie tells him as he gestures for Steve to make a left at the light. “The guy who owns the place—Greg—is an old friend from, like, World War II or whatever. You know, that homoerotic male bonding trauma shit.” Eddie nudges Steve with his elbow, winking when Steve looks over. “Wayne’s the one who taught me to play, did I tell you that?” Steve shakes his head. “Well, he thought it’d be a good way to get out all that energy, I guess.” Eddie grins. “Greg used to give me these tapes of the local music scene, stuff he’d been able to record at live shows or people renting out his booth in the back. There was some fucking awesome stuff in there, some of the bands have even made it pretty big. Oh, take a right here and then another right at the stop sign.” Steve sees it before Eddie points it out, a big red guitar on the sign. “That parking lot there, Stevie.” Eddie makes a big show of pointing, practically leaning out of the passenger’s side window like a dog, as if Steve needs the help at all.

Steve pulls into a spot right in front of the store and puts the car in park. Eddie practically leaps from his seat, slamming the door behind him and bounding up to the double glass doors, not even waiting for Steve to climb out of the car himself before he’s pulling the door open and rushing inside. Steve just rolls his eyes, locking the car doors before he follows.

The place is exactly what Steve expected. A little bell twinkles overhead as he passes through the entrance. It’s a little dimly lit, due to the way the storefront is arranged, but Steve can clearly see the rows of guitars hanging from the walls, the bins of sheet music underneath. There are other instruments, too, a couple of upright pianos near the counter in the back, some electric keyboards, a whole section of violins. He can’t help but think about how Robin would love this place and makes a mental note to suggest they all come up here together sometime. Steve follows Eddie’s voice to the glass counter where the register sits, harmonicas lined up on shelves lined in velvet in the case below it.

“—my friend Steve,” Eddie’s saying, gesturing towards Steve as Steve comes to stand beside him. Steve looks up at the man he assumes is Greg. He’s older, maybe a little older than Wayne even, laugh lines around his mouth and an easy smile on his lips. He’s got a long grey ponytail to match his long grey beard. A green flannel hangs off his skinny frame. Eddie smiles at Steve, his hand brushing along Steve’s bicep as he turns to introduce him. “Steve, this is Greg.”

“Hey, Steve,” Greg reaches his hand out for a shake and Steve takes it. Greg’s hand is warm and dry, eyes sparkling, friendly. Steve feels safe here. “Eddie says he’s teaching you to play guitar. Not sure how much you’re gonna learn from ol’ butterfingers here.” He points his thumb at Eddie.

“Hey!” Eddie yells in mock offense.

Greg laughs. “When Eddie was first learning, he’d try to snack and play at the same time. Always the same thing, those Bugles, you know?” He holds his hands up in front of him, wiggling his fingertips. Steve nods, grinning. “Hands full of grease, couldn’t get a grip on anything.”

Steve’s grin widens when Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, okay, old man.” He lifts himself from where he’d been leaning on the counter, tapping is own fingertips along the glass. “How about you make yourself useful and do your job? Steve’s looking for a new guitar.”

“Awesome, man, first one?” Greg asks Steve.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve been borrowing a friend’s, but I’d like to get one of my own.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Nothing too fancy, I don’t know much about anything really.”

Greg grins again. “A real newbie, I love that.” He walks across to the front left corner of the store. “Obviously you want an acoustic, easier to learn on, especially if this dumbass is the one teaching you.” Eddie lets out a sound of offense. “These are your best bet. No bells and whistles, nothing fancy. You can get fancier once you know more.” Greg turns toward Steve. “Wanna try some out?”

Steve nods and Greg slides a stool over, gesturing for Steve to sit. He pulls the first guitar off its hook and hands it to Steve. Steve strums a few chords.

“How’s it feel?” Greg asks.

“It’s good,” Steve says hesitantly.

“Good but not great, right?” Steve nods. “Yeah, I could tell. That’s okay. You’ll know when you feel it.” Greg takes the guitar back from Steve, handing him a new one.

After about four or five rounds, Greg pulls the last one off the wall. It looks a little like Robin’s, but the wood’s a little darker, almost red, and the finish is a little shinier. Steve’s fingertips are buzzing when he takes it from Greg and feels the smooth strings under his fingers.

“That’s it, right?” Greg asks, smiling.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out. “This is it.” He returns Greg’s smile.

Eddie meets them back up at the counter, wandering over from where he’d been sifting through the sheet music.

“Find one?” Eddie nods toward the case on the counter.

“Found a real good one,” Greg tells him, snapping the lid of the case open to show him.

Eddie grins, dimples on full display. “Wow, Stevie.” Eddie looks over at Steve, face soft. “Looks great. Very metal.”

Steve’s not entirely sure why that makes him blush.

read the new chapter of all of me changed like midnight. posted now

#steddie #steddiebigbang23 #steddie bang #steddie bigbang #steddie fic #steddie fic rec #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic

244 notes · View notes

upswnel · 23 days

Text

FRENCH AS IN...?

— gojo satoru x afab!reader, mutual pining, academic rivalish friends?, suggestive, collage au!

the evening found satoru and her lounging side by side in his apartment, having just wrapped up a grueling assignment.

the soft strains of françoise hardy's music filled the room, emanating from her phone, while he was engrossed in an intense online chess match.

as the song played on, she suddenly broke the silence. “hey, satoru, do you know french?”

he paused, momentarily confused. his attention had been so absorbed in the game that he hadn’t registered the music’s language, he was completely out of context. assuming she meant something different, he interpreted her question in a more... personal way.

what now, after insulting him non-stop and annoying him by saying no one will ever put up with his narcissistic, egoistic, insufferable, stupid character and how he'll probably die alone with his cat snow; she was suddenly interested in his personal life?

after a brief hesitation, he turned to face her, a confused look on his face. “uh, why do you ask?”

she shrugged, her gaze a little annoyed. she has always been jelaous of how well-rounded he was. he was not only the star player of the soccer team but the way he pulled off every single electric guitar solo she swooned over, the way he competed against her in one of the only fields she was assertive in, playing the piano. as if all these weren't enough, he still managed to keep her on her toes, threatening the academic throne she worked so hard to keep to herself.

“well, since there’s nothing you can’t do well and nothing you don’t know about, i just wondered if you know it too.” she admitted begrudgingly, the playful roll of her eyes made him question the whole ordeal even further.

but still assuming she was referring to something more intimate, he gave her a nonchalant shrug. “yeah, i know it.” he wasn’t quite sure why she was asking, but he figured he might as well answer.

her eyes lit up with excitement, and she leaned in closer. “really? could you tutor me? i’ve been dying to learn french! there were a couple of times i tried to finally give it a go but it always scared me off a little, you know?”

wow, okay.

satoru’s mind went blank. her request for a “french tutor” threw him off completely. he was momentarily distracted as his chess match ended with his opponent’s victory. shaking off his confusion, he turned back to her, processing the situation. “you want me to... teach you?”

she nodded, oblivious to the misunderstanding. “yeah! i’ve always wanted to learn. why do you look so surprised?” she let out a nervous chuckle.

satoru slowly leaned in closer, his heart racing. “are you sure about this?” she was taken aback by the sudden proximity, her cheeks flushing. “yes...?” she managed to reply. though, through her voice it was obvious she was slightly confused.

he reached for the water bottle beside him. "why do you wanna learn it anyway?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. he kept eye contact as the water flowed down his throat, cooling his senses a bit. why would someone want to learn it and ask for it? you get the hang of it when you... just do it with someone you want to... kiss, right? that's not something to ask of your... well certainly not someone you can't even name your relation with.

she pondered for a second. "well... it is very useful in some areas and i kinda like the way it sounds."

he almost choked. coughing as she patted on his back worriedly. "h- hey! are you okay? god, you can't even drink water properly."

he composed himself, clearing his throat before taking a glance at her out the corner of his eye.

well, she was certainly not the type to bring up this kind of topic, especially with him. his gaze lingered on her for a few seconds, the way she looked at him with those both despising and amused eyes; her lips forming a slight smirk as her hand still rested on his back.

he's gotta be honest. he really wondered how it would be like to kiss her. always so aloof and teasing, enjoying to have the upper-hand, nagging at him and making fun of him every chance she gets. the desire to have her putty in his hands made the adrenalin surge through his veins. she doesn't seem like the type to melt in his arms as his lips moved against hers though. but since she wants to learn it, does this mean she's completely inexperienced?

the imagary of her with burning cheeks and laboured breath made something snap in him. having her arms wrapped around his neck as he felt her heart pounding against his chest, the way she would feel so desperate to have his flushed lips on hers again, minds hazy with the dance of their tongues seconds ago but she just can't seem to get enough of his addicting taste you know? oh and the way his hands would slide up her sh-

hey! get a grip, man!

he shut his eyes and rubbed his temples before turning to face her. they just sat in silence for a few moments before he sighed and leaned in. "you want to... you sure?"

her hands found their place on his chest to make him keep his distance. was he acting weird or was it her? she couldn't quite understand his strange behaviour but she let out a hesitant 'yes'.

with that confirmation, he closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. his large hands on both sides of her face, his thumb caressing her cheek bones.

he wasn't even sure what he was doing. his mind was spinning with both perplexity and desire. why was he doing this? he just momentarily craved her touch but kissing her was like they had crossed a boundary they hadn’t intended to.

the initial contact was tender, but as he deepened the kiss, it grew more passionate, his tongue lightly brushing against hers. her eyes widened in shock, and she pulled away, her face burning bright red. “what- what are you doing?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

satoru looked just as flustered, his own cheeks tinged pink. “well, didn’t you ask me to teach you french kissing?”

she was mortified, her mind racing as she realized the mix-up. “no, I meant french as in the language! i didn’t mean... that!” she hated how her stomach twisted and how something in her chest fluttered.

the room fell into a stunned silence. her gulps were audible though. neither of them could muster the words to comment on what had just happened. the unexpected kiss, combined with the misunderstanding, left them both too embarrassed to even tease each other.

satoru cleared his throat, his usual confident demeanor completely absent. “so, uh, we... we should probably just forget about this.”

she nodded quickly, still blushing furiously. “yes, definitely. i... i didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

the air was thick with awkwardness, and despite the lingering embarrassment, there was a shared understanding that the situation was more than just a simple mix-up. and now, both were grappling with the newfound complexity of their feelings.

with a final awkward glance, they turned back to their respective tasks, the playful and teasing dynamic they once shared replaced with an uncertain, lingering tension. they had literally kissed, and the implications of that were far beyond their usual banter.

—

let me know if you want a steamier part two! ʕ•̀ω•́ʔ✧

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader

48 notes · View notes

hwajin · 4 months

Text

✞ 「 .✶۪ .° ✞ : 𝐇 𝐈 — 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐄 !! : a series

☆ — chapter one; Soda Pop :

✞ 「 .✶۪ : see series masterlist and warnings here

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter word count: 12.1k

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter warnings: fluff and angst, y/n's kind of an asshole, first mentions of cheating!!, stupidity and immaturity

✞ 「 .✶۪ : heavily inspired by: 'nana' by ai yazawa!

author's note: it's finally here!!!! i've been crafting on this series for a good year now, and while i know it's nowhere near good because serieses aren't my strength at all, i hope you'll still enjoy it!! pleaseee please please let me know what you think of it, every bit of feedback is highly appreciated <3333 enjoy <3

The sound of console buttons and video game soundtrack filled the stuffy studio, particles of dust dancing in the burning summer sun. Han bit against his lip piercing while he plugged his guitar into the old AMP the bunch of you had found on a flea market two years ago – it’s been roughly thirty dollars, and you had sworn to have found heaven back then; admittedly, though the old box was working to its’ best abilities, it was high time to hunt for a new one. Han’s heavy silver rings scratched against the yet untuned strings of his instrument, and the sound was almost uncomfortable; though never quite, for it was music after all.

You would never grow tired of it, you thought. Of music, of everything revolving it – it was your everything, your earliest memories, your dearest experiences; your closest friendships, even. Ever since your parents had bought you your first electric piano – one for kids only, and not of best quality altogether though you had loved it all the same – notes and tunes had been all around you, always. With seven years old you’d been signed up for your first piano lesson, which no other kid in your course had been as excited to visit as you had been; with ten years, mere three years later, when Han had moved into your neighbourhood with his parents, you’d convinced your own to let you visit guitar lessons with him. They hadn’t needed much persuasion; they’d noticed early on just how much you enjoyed the hobby, and they’d never been ones to forbid you passion. There had been fights when your parents had realised you’ve been far more serious about music than they had imagined, or hoped, even; at fifteen years old you had planned to drop out of school with your best friend, and both your and his parents had lost hours of sleep and nerves convincing you of the opposite. Two years later, at seventeen, both you and Han were sure not to apply to college, initially – that, too, had caused tears and frustration over both of you and your parents. You and Han, having felt pressured to take action, had decided to apply to a college, somewhat pretentiously, where you would start an amateur band – it would keep both you and your families happy.

You set up your microphone, guitar long in hand, the worn-out leather band cutting into your neck, pulling at loose strands of hair, the weight of your instrument laying heavily on your shoulders. You were used to it; enjoyed the feeling like nothing else.

“Guys, wrap it up, some of us have classes soon.”

Just then Changbin’s groan sounded against Jeongin’s shout of victory – in three years of knowing the pair there has been only one occasion on which Changbin has won a game of Mario against Jeongin; that the younger had been knocked out drunk back then, Changbin never wanted to admit. The older man threw his console onto the carpeted floor in frustration, emitting a cloud of dust where it hit – his determination to win was admirable, if you were honest, though his pouting and sulking was amusing every time anew.

“Bro, I swear you’re dead next time.”

Jeongin snickered as they both made their way to their positions behind you, and the rest of you erupted in a fit of protests and laughter. “You should accept defeat to be honest, I’d be embarrassed by now if I was you – there’s bad game play, and then there’s you.”, Han’s voice thinned out towards the end of his sentence when Changbin shot him a deadly look – the younger momentarily busied himself with his guitar again, merely smirking to himself at his friends’ sensitivity.

“Guys, c’mon now, we don’t have all day.”

The two friends both mockingly imitated you, though got behind their instruments – Jeongin stood behind the long-ready piano, Changbin picking up his long-tuned bass. The small college studio momentarily filled with vibrations and resonances of instruments – Jeongin playing warm-up chords, Changbin letting chime a long tone, Minho, who all of you – after you’d seen a commercial on the TV you had now long forgotten – had started calling Lino over your years of friendship besides his very active protest against it, gave a couple experimental sounds against the snare of his drums behind the thin plexiglass he was seated. It was heaven to your ears. There was nothing, you’d argue, that you loved more than the sound of the small room filling up entirely with the harmonies of your instruments, every single one coming together to play the songs Han wrote so diligently for your little amateur band besides his college assignments. Not that he was taking them too seriously, anyways – he planned to be a musician, no matter the cost.

“Alright, everyone in position, everyone ready?”, you waited for the lot to groan softly in agreement, looking back at them all to give you a nod, “I’ll count in…”, the tension in the studio thickened now, all bickering forgotten; and everyone waited for your commando, “five…”, a beat, your voice sounding through the room, “six…”, another beat, your voice louder now, your fingers ready on your instrument, everyone else watching you intently, adjusting in their position, “five, six, seven, eight!”

The room erupted in deafening volume, Jeongin’s synthetic piano sounding softly against Lino’s loud kick drums, Changbin’s bass harmonising with Han’s guitar; your voice sounding above it all.

It hadn’t been until you were out of school four years ago when you had started singing, so, naturally, you weren’t the strongest vocalist; it was Han who had convinced you to give it a try, arguing the tone in your voice to be unique, and diminishing, simultaneously, the necessity of looking for a vocalist for the band you had started planning back then, already. Your skills had gotten better over the years – your bandmates had made it fashion to remind you of it, no less because you yet needed to learn to acquire confidence in your skill. Four years later – you liked your voice, and the five of you had found the sound that fitted it best, despite your remaining weaknesses.

‘Hope’ – the name of the band, the name of Han’s and Jeongin’s favourite cigarette brand. You had been nineteen and not very creative, had all, except Lino, met on the first day of college which only half of you took seriously – you were one those after your initial rebelling against it, wanting something stable and secure in case practical music wouldn’t work out in the long run; so, you’d decided to study theoretical and historical music, hoping to find yourself in the same field after all. You enjoyed your studies – as much as one could enjoy talking of chords and cadences and harmonies instead of playing them, or discussing composers of genius minds who have died centuries ago –it was no comparison to the time you spent in the studio, the passion it brought, the utter joy that coursed your veins whenever you held your guitar in hands, stood before your microphone stand. Mozart and Bach could only spark your interest so much, if the small, dusty college studio and your bandmates in it were right around the corner.

Changbin and Jeongin were both English students; both figured that taking a universally, to quote them, ‘easy major’ would allow them to focus on their music, and to spend as little time in a classroom as it was humanly possible to still pass – you wondered if they’ve ever seen one from the inside, altogether.

Lino on the other hand, a business major and taking his studies with diligence, though never seeming to be actually doing his assignments, only ever having finished them with perfect grades, seemingly magically, didn’t put too much hope into an amateur band, and simply enjoyed his hobby while working towards his future career. It was a shame, though – he was a genius drummer, his loudest when he carried two sticks in his hands; you didn’t remember if you’ve ever truly heard his voice over the past years, though he was compensating his usual silence the moment he sat behind his instrument; and if it wasn’t his instrument, he preferred spending his time with cats rather than with humans.

And lastly there’s been Han and you. Best friends since you were little, though you’ve never visited the same school, so all the more excited when you had decided to apply to the same college together – despite not for the same majors, you would still be together. The band was his idea, initially.

“LOOKING FOR: DRUMMER, BASSIST, PIANIST, SECOND VOCAL FOR AMATEUR BAND. CONTACT HERE.”

had been written on the hundreds of flyers Han had taken with him for the first day of college you had anticipated giddily, and he had hung up the pieces of paper on every free space of wall and pillar he could find around campus – back then you hadn’t been aware of needing a written permission of the colleges’ office to hang up advertisements, and Han was forced to take down his flyers within the same week –, you had laughed at him and called it silly; though Changbin and Jeongin, friends since a little before college, had sat next to you both at the first-semester-students ceremony, and had caught eye of the papers in Han’s lap.

“Wait, it’s your flyers we’ve seen around? We’d be so down!”

You had eyed them sceptical back then – they had looked far too typical for an amateur-college-band, almost, heavy silver chains hanging around both their necks, their nails coloured pitch black, Jeongin looking at you with a nose piercing and blond streaks in his hair, their outfits raven and dark; though you had looked at Han, unevenly self-bleached hair, an eyebrow piercing adorning his face, his own scratched down black nail polish begging to be reapplied, boots on his feet two numbers too big, and you’d noticed, almost shamefully, that all four of you had looked like the prime example of people to form an amateur-college-band on the very first day of classes. It hadn’t needed much more conversation after that; the two friends had been welcomed into the band that had previously consisted of only you and Han, and Lino had contacted you three days later – right before Han had bashfully taken off his flyers.

It had needed some time until the five of you had started to click and work together; though yours and Jeongin’s voice had mixed well from the get-go, and everyone’s skill had been to a far higher standard than either you or Han would have anticipated. Lino had surprised you the most; while Changbin had been cocky from the first day you met him and Jeongin had been confident about his skills, Lino hadn’t talked much, nor had he looked, even, like a typical drummer. Not that there was a certain look to them, you simply wouldn’t have expected that under the quiet nature there was so much vigour and emotion, so much volume the moment he had given you a first idea of his level and skill, to see if he was a fit for your band at all; it had been fascinating, was to this day.

The song ended, the cups of your fingers aching, your neck strained, your voice in need of water; it was a successful practice. Jeongin and Changbin both expressed sounds of satisfaction, Han joining them while the echo of your instruments vibrated in the room for a couple moments, before they died out eventually.

“That was so good! The best we did so far, I think!”

Voices sounding through the room, and you turned around to look at your friends. Everyone joined into exclamations of praise, turning off and unplugging their instruments, stretching, cracking their knuckles. Conversation of pride filled the room; the praise never lasted long, though.

“Bin, stay in my rhythm a bit more next time, especially in the second half – don’t get too excited.”, Lino’s voice from behind the glass while he made room to get up from behind his seat. When you had first started practising with him, the tone in his voice during words of critique almost scared you, though with time you acquired to him, and learned to love his honesty – he was never condescending about mistakes, and always accepting of bettering his own errors.

“Yeah, I noticed too, my bad. I lose my count after the chorus. And I was distracted by you two,” Changbin gave a quick look between you and Jeongin, “you need to harmonise better. There was some dissonance after the first part, you need to sit down and figure out the second half better.”

You nodded at Jeongin, he returned it, knowingly. There were never hard feelings after critique, not anymore – initially, when you had started out, all of you had wanted to prove your rights, all far too proud to accept defeat, though now you loved your bandmates for being able to speak what’s on their mind, for it would only improve you as a whole.

“Well, and you two lovebirds were perfect, as always.”, Jeongin commented nonchalantly while unplugging his piano and mic. He meant you and Han, though neither of you were bothered by the comment. It was a running joke; you bore the longest friendship in the group, harmonised near perfectly every practice – how could you not, if practising and playing the guitar together had been everything you’ve busied yourselves with when you’d been younger? Despite having tried to convince the rest of the band that neither you nor Han bore any feelings for the other, nor would fuck to ‘get it out of the system’, as Changbin had so lovingly commented once, the jokes never ended; you had simply grown indifferent to them. You snickered, shooting your best friend a quick look; he winked at you approvingly, turning off the AMP and packing away his fire-red guitar – you followed him, unplugging and turning off everything that needed to be unplugged and turned off, before putting your own black instrument on the designated stand in between Han’s and Changbin’s ones. Lino already waited by the entrance door, bag thrown lazily over his shoulder, a pack of ‘Hi-Lite’s in his hands, one cigarette between his lips. He offered Changbin one when said male reached him by the door, and didn’t bother offering the rest of you any – you didn’t smoke not to damage your voice, Han and Jeongin couldn’t stand the brand the other two men smoked. Han got hold of his bag lying on the old leather sofa and his scattered belongings – headphones, notebook and a pen, a snack he had bought earlier, a pack of his beloved ‘Hope’s – and gave Jeongin a cigarette while catching one between his teeth himself. The bunch of you made it out of the studio – Lino, as the oldest, bore privileges over the key to the studio, locked the room and scurried over to the rest of you as you already made your way to the main building of the University. You weren’t a college band, not officially, though your location of practice was on campus – you had asked Mr. Hwang, your music teacher and head of the music department, if there, by any chance, was a forgotten room the five of you could use. To your surprise he had been most enthusiastic about both your question, and your band in general; allegedly he’d been in one as well when he was younger which had never lead to success, so he took pleasure in encouraging you with your own; his visiting during your practices weren’t a rarity, and the five of you were quite fond – and amused, slightly – of his support.

“Ji, you have fire?”

The guitarist searched for a lighter in his jeans’ back pocket, handed it to everyone after lighting his own cigarette.

“God, I need this before class.”, Changbin expressed in exaggerated exhaustion, blowing out blue smoke into the hot summer air. His black hair fell over his darker eyes, and you giggled at his comment.

“Do you, now? As if you and Innie will go to class today.”

Han laughed softly at your words, blew out his own puff of smoke while Changbin and Jeongin started to get defensive – a habit they acquired lately, because both of them were on the verge of failing their semesters. You knew they’d skip their lessons anyways.

Lino was the first to bid goodbye, having to walk opposite of the rest of you for his classes. He left saying he’d be back after his hours for another session of practice; the five of you had acquired to practice twice a day, more if the time gave chance. You all saw him off, continuing your journey further down campus. The heaviness of your boots crunched against the pavement beneath your feet, the black of your clothes attracting the burning sun and making you sweat more than it was comfortable; though you were used to it. Changbin and Jeongin separated at last, despite making their way to their classroom they surely wouldn’t have enough self-control to truly sit there for a whole two hours. You teased them about it one last time before they saw you off with curses and middle fingers, and you and Han made your way to your favourite spot on campus; the vending machine right behind the music building.

Ever since you had started college you had come here with Han to get a drink before most of your classes – it surely wasn’t a healthy habit, it was your favourite one, though. You had deemed it a necessity to find a spot which throughout your college years would work as a safe haven against teachers and possible annoying co-students, a spot where you could talk music and gossip and, inherently, everything and nothing, entirely undisturbed. The vending machine didn’t stand far from a huge weeping willow, working perfectly against the summer sun, and it was being refilled only about once a week – it was an old and shabby machine, and you’ve never seen anyone but you two in the proximity of it.

“God, I’m so unmotivated for class today. Wish I could spend your free window with you.”, you expressed in anguish as you and Han reached the dispenser and the shadow of the tree with sweat-laced faces. Han chuckled while plopping down on the bench by the tree trunk, leaning back, eyes closed and played malicious joy writing his features.

“I told you, we should both drop out and focus on the band. I don’t even know if I’ll go to my one class for today.”

Your loose coins clinked soundly in your palm before you threw them into the vending machine, pressing the number two for a classic can of Coca Cola. You huffed out in amusement at Han’s proposal, snickered at his laziness.

“It’s like you wanna fail. You know your mom’s gonna kill you if you change your major again.”, you bickered while taking the cool bottle out from behind the plastic hatch; the cold condensation felt nice against your hot skin, and your mouth watered in anticipation for a freezing drink. “What are you doing with all your free time skipping class, anyway.” Your tone wasn’t condescending, nor was it much lecturing; you’d lie pretending you didn’t care for your best friends’ education and future, though, and his nonchalance towards it was concerning more often than not – you weren’t even sure what his major was at this point, and it worried you that he might not know, either. He did have the talent to become a successful musician, yet the industry had never simply relied on skills; it was luck and appeal and timing as much as all else.

“Well, first of all; duh, I wanna fail. At least I won’t have to study anymore, and my mom won’t be able to tell me I didn’t try.”, he returned with pride you didn’t quite deem appropriate given the context, and you tsked while he made his way from the old bench to the older vending machine, playing with the loose change in his pocket.

“And second, I use all the free time to write songs for the band you’re in, by the way, so you’re welco-”, he traced off, something external catching his attention mid-sentence, something yet unknown to you, and the man went from cocky demeanour to absolute and utter frustration in mere seconds, “No!! No, this is so unfair, they haven’t refilled my fucking root beer yet!!!” His sorrow echoed through the open, and you needed a moment to register his words, the true mundanity and vanity of them before you started laughing at him whole-heartedly. He went to lean against the glass of the vending machine dramatically, a puffed cheek against dirty glass and it mushed his face, driving to humour you further. One hand of his slid down the glass where the empty spot of his favourite drink stood in all its’ pride; it was almost Oscar worthy, and, to take matters further – and to make you laugh some more, you were sure – he topped it off with fake-crying; you almost choked on the Coke you had started drinking already. You had always adored his humour, his ability to bring light-heartedness into all and every situation – you knew he prided himself in the sounds of your laughter, often took jokes far beyond limit, until your stomach pained, and tears smudged your mascara.

“You know, I don’t even feel bad for you. Root beer is fucking disgusting; it’s a sign that you should change your go-to drink.”, the cold, bubbling liquid felt nice against your lips when you took a gulp after your snarky comment, which earned you a snarkier look. You shut up with a last giggle, and watched your friend carefully eyeing the available options for a drink, brows furrowed as though a far tougher decision than it was, lips caught between his teeth in utter – yet playful – seriousness.

You loved him. Not romantically, never romantically – you cringed at the thought alone as you sat and lay your eyes on him, huffing out in amusement about his seemingly real frustration; yet you loved him. There was no other person dearer to you than him; you’d had your ups and downs as young teens, when hormones had been the only thing ruling your bodies and brains, though you had survived that time, and had been closer than ever afterwards. He was fun; there had never been a boring day if it was him by your side. He didn’t take himself nor others too seriously, viewed the world carelessly, which you had always admired – there’d been days you needed a listening ear, and days where you needed someone to get you out of the static of your own thoughts. Han had always been able to provide both, never not taking you seriously, besides his immaturity, for the lack of a better expression; he had always been the shoulder you cried on after heartbreaks, or fights with your parents, or ulterior and general hopelessness; and he had always been the happiness you craved for right after, his talent to distract you with music or video games or his own banal miseries far more admirable than he’d ever admit. Around him, you bore no filter, and you knew he didn’t either; with him you were human, had always been.

“Guess I have to be basic and take a Coke too, then.”, he tsked as you watched him dial the same number you had after throwing in his share of coins, and you laughed at his comment. His lip piercing was caught between his teeth as he made his way over to you onto the picnic bench, swinging one of his legs over the seat – his large boots always looked too big against his slim body, almost comical; yet it suited him, strangely. His dry, bleached hair fell over his eyes in bangs as he settled in comfortably, sipping his drink with another exaggerated sigh and faked disgust on his features at the loss of his beloved beverage; you scoffed in amusement, taking another big gulp of your soda. While Han enjoyed a free window after practice – and had both the courage and enough lacking willpower to not visit the class he had scheduled right after –, you had to rot away in music class until the five of you were able to meet up again, for afternoon practice; the hours during classes you always spent counting the minutes to be back in the studio, and sometimes the temptation of dropping out and embracing the band full time with Han by your side was so calling, that mid-lesson texts of it, and hopeless, juvenile plans of a music career weren’t a rarity between your best friend and yourself – the guilt of giving up with no solidity beneath your feet yet always took the upper hand, so big plans of bigger stadiums stayed texts, and you continued spending your daily classes in excruciating boredom.

During the couple minutes you had together, right after practice and before your next set of lessons, Han and you talked of everything and nothing. More often than not, it was involving music, his ideas and plans for new songs, possible schedules to practise, mistakes you and he had noticed in the rundown before and needed to correct for the rundown after. Rarely, though not never, both you and him would express doubts or feelings of hopelessness regarding the band and its’ future; another point you were ever comfortable speaking of in the presence of only him. Not because the others wouldn’t understand, or care; they surely would, and you thought they could even be decent listeners and advisers, much to your surprise had you first met them. Yet you preferred to save insecurities for later, when you and Han were in lonesome, could talk undisturbed; neither did you know of the importance the other three bore for the band, nor did you think it a good idea to talk of pointless negativity – ‘Where do we go after college?’, ‘What if the band never really breaks through?’, ‘Do we want it to break through, or are we simply five friends enjoying music and each other’s presence?’ –; you deemed those thoughts to lead to discouragement to practise and play altogether, let alone keep the motivation should you ever decide to take the professional route. Yet, you could always talk of such fears with Han, for he always shared your worries; though currently, he was rambling about a new song he was planning – one he was allegedly writing specifically for you, and for your voice.

“I’ll show you the song when I’m done, I still have to edit a ton and it’s basically completely unfinished, and…”, a sip from his Coke and he looked at you, curiously, “I know you’re not the most confident in your voice, and the song might be out of our skill range…”, Han watched you listen to him carefully, piercing eyes following his every word, “but I’m writing this song to fit your range and tone perfectly, like- I’m writing it for your voice.”, his hands fiddled with the tin of the can under your gaze, almost nervously, as if confessing something he shouldn’t. His cheeks painted pink, only a shade or two yet you noticed, and he seemed to suddenly blink more than usual; strange. You emptied your Coke in a last gulp and Han’s eyes caught yours before you scoffed, softly.

“It’s unlike you to be so nervous about it. I’m sure it’s gonna be a good song, and I bet we will like it – I know I will; it’s written for me, basically.”, you snickered, and Han merely replied with a choked chuckle.

“I’m not… nervous about the song. I actually think it’s the best I’ve made so far, and, like- I think it’s gonna sound insane live, just… I don’t know. Whatever.”, another chuckle, forced, almost, and he avoided eye contact; very strange, truly.

You watched him carefully, wondered where the sudden insecurities stemmed from. Music, and songwriting in particular were his passions as much as they were yours, yet admittedly, he bore far more talent than you did; you had always admired it rather than growing envious of his skill, so far more confused now at his sudden humbleness.

“Show me the song when you’ve finished writing it, I bet it’s nice. Don’t be weird about it.” You nipped at the can of Coke one last time before throwing your worn-out bag over your shoulder, sighing exasperatedly. “Anyways, I have to hurry now. Don’t want Hwang to scold me in front of everyone for being late again.”

Han mumbled a reply, and you cocked your head at him in curiosity one last time – he wouldn’t leave a nagging thought uncommented, not if it was truly bothering him, though maybe he wouldn’t want to distract you before class. He would surely, you thought, mention whatever was making him nibble at his pierced lip and light another cigarette before you were even out of sight later before practice, and you took a mental note to ask him when you’d see him again. You left your empty can of Coke by the bench – you always allowed Han the pleasure of the deposit money for both his and your drink; he never not returned it by standing you a soda every once in a while – and made your way apart from him, from the cooling shadow, from the freezing drinks inside the dirty vending machine, from the comfort of your best friend – you bid goodbye with a last “See you later!” and disappeared behind the corner towards the music building, not without questioning Han’s last seemingly troubled expression.

☆.☆.☆

You sat behind your shabby, wooden desk in the hot, sweat-scented classroom, dimming out the chattering and gossip all around you with your earphones, scribbling doodles and lyrics into your notebook. Your blue pen materialised hearts and clouds and words into your yellowish piece of paper as you waited for Mr. Hwang to enter the classroom, as you waited for the two hours of boredom to pass as quickly as it was possible – or for your teacher to talk of a subject which could interest you, for that matter.

You furrowed your brows at the verses you were trying to make sense of; you weren’t much a songwriter, and despite Han’s patient teaching for the past couple months and your urge to improve your skill you were far from happy with any recent results. Your texts didn’t seem to carry a red line, context was hard to make sense of; you wondered if you had any talent for songwriting at all, or if you should leave said work to your best friend. You’ve acquired a habit of writing down anything you could think of for the sake of practice, to gather any spark of inspiration in written form, and going over it with Han on later occasion – only few verses and sentences of yours found themselves in a couple of his songs, and though you wished it could be more, he made it fashion to remind you it was already something to be proud of.

The heavy creak of the door and the following footsteps were the reason you stopped the music which blasted in your eardrums before taking out your earphones, the silhouette of your teacher strutting through the now murmuring classroom, whispers which sounded like questions, and a general confusion spread between the students; unbeknownst to you, yet, as you packed away your phone and opened your notebook on last weeks’ notes, before you finally converted your eyes to the front, finally caught a peak of you teacher; though it wasn’t the teacher you’ve expected to walk into the classroom, not Mr. Hwang, and your jaw would have hit the rough wood of your table if you’d had been any slower at gathering yourself. The man – not a stranger, though unseen and unthought of by you for the past five years – made his way into the spacy classroom, brown briefcase in hand, white dress shirt hugging the lines of his muscles, the ones on his arms exposed as he’d rolled up his sleeves. His attire was missing the tie you remembered him in, and, different to five years ago, the two top buttons of his shirt lay open around his chest – not showing inappropriate skin, though enough to tease, almost, to make you drool in your seat. His black dress pants moved with him as he settled behind his desk, briefcase on the table, one watch-adorned wrist making its way into his pants’ pocket leisurely as he looked around the class. He was visibly older, now that you had a good view of him – smile lines deeper, skin more textured, a certain calmness writing his pleasant features –he was just as attractive as you remembered him to be; more so, you’d dare to argue.

“Hi, my name is Mr. Bahng. Professor Hwang suddenly fell ill, unfortunately, and I’ll be his substitute teacher for the time being. I normally don’t teach college classes, but other professors sadly didn’t have the time – I’m well acquainted with Professor Hwang, though, so I agreed to take over his class for a few weeks.”

He was friendly. A charming smile adorned his face, a slight blush played around his nose as he looked around the room, looking at each student for a second or two before locking eyes with the next. For closure, for trust. Then he locked eyes with you, and it felt just like five years ago, when you were fresh eighteen years old, and a bored high school student in your last year before graduation.

.☆.

“I’ve never been so excited for class, oh my god.”

You had sat giddily in your seat, anticipating the arrival of your new music teacher. You had only seen him once so far, last week, when he had freshly relocated to the high school you’d gone to, and had been, quite literally and much to Felix’s misery and irritation, head over heels for the man – not because your friend had borne a crush for you; simply because you’d been utterly annoying with your high school love for your teacher. You’d known your yearning had been futile even back then, had known that Mr. Bahng wasn’t possibly interested in a mere girl who had just turned eighteen, yet you’d been young and in need for fun distraction, for amusement. And if that meant drooling over a young, hot teacher who had been just your type, it seemed, then you couldn’t complain.

Next to you, Felix had huffed in amusement as you kept eyeing the entrance door of the classroom, then the clock on the wall in front of you, then the door again. He had prepped his material for class already, in much contrast to your own entirely empty desk; saved for a piece of paper and a pen borrowed from your dearest high school friend.

“Your crush is getting unhealthy… he’s not gonna fuck you, you know.”

Felix hadn’t been judging, yet his voice had been teasing. You’d shot him a glance, had tsked at him which your friend returned with a mocking impression of you – fluttering eye-lids, airy lashes, a dumb-ish smile adorning his face.

“I know he’s not gonna fuck me… that’s not the point, though. Class is boring, and you take your academics way too serious to distract me from it.”, you’d retorted sarcastically, which Felix had accepted with a light-hearted scoff, going back to his notes from last week. You hadn’t been wrong; he wanted to get into college, and with good grades preferably. He’d known you had other priorities; he’d respected, enjoyed, even, your passion for music, and you'd always have the talent for it. The two of you had always been inherently different, though it had never bothered your friendship in the slightest.

Just as Felix had been about to retort with a snarky comment – or another far too accurate impression of your behaviour whenever Mr. Bahng was around – the door to the classroom had opened, and your music teacher had walked in – dress shirt buttoned up all the way, sleeves rolled down even in the hot weather, a careful tie adorning his fit. There’d been fewer lines of muscle back then, though they had been prominent enough to drive your teenage mind utterly insane. Your eyes had been glued onto him as he had welcomed the class, and Felix had struggled containing his laughter; you had been bashing your eyes at him, and you had been wearing a stupid smile around your lips at a mere look at him, just like your friend had mocked about earlier – and you had been either unaware of it, or you hadn’t been bothered enough to care.

You had eyed your teacher the entire lesson, and as much as Felix had wanted to stay focused, he had giggled and laughed at you, amused at your heart-eyes for someone so entirely unattainable. More often than once you had been in need to copy Felix’s notes because your thoughts – and eyes – had been elsewhere than the board, and more often than not Felix had pretended to stop helping you out in class any further, until you’d gotten over your crush; only in light hearted manner, though, because he couldn’t truly deny you of his help, would have felt far too bad to. Though, Felix had always admired your self-reflection in the matter of Mr. Bahng – there hadn’t been one incident in which you’d been unaware of the hopelessness and the unattainability your one-sided love presented – much to his dismay, because during free windows you would complain about it to no end –; and altogether, you had never spoken of love, in the first place. It had been butterflies, distraction from lessons, stupidity and immaturity – and you had always been aware of it; had always been aware of the impossibility.

.☆.

“Oh! And…Y/N, right? It’s nice to see some familiar faces!”

While you had been deep in thought, eyes wide and mouth agape – looking but a deer caught in the headlights, and upon the realisation of your expression you grew bashful – Mr. Bahng had named few students he remembered teaching back in school, happy some chose to follow the musical path before he started with the class, not lingering on you for a second longer after you nodded and smiled in approval; it almost frustrated you, his lack of attention to you – though anything else would have been strange, admittedly.

He had changed almost tangibly, though not by a lot, and into a direction far more pleasant than you'd had dared to expect. There was a change to his behaviour; when you had first seen him teach, he had been nervous, clammy; despite never in loss of control over the class he had clearly not borne much faith for his skills as a teacher yet. Now, standing before you in all his glory, black hair carefully slicked back in purposefully messy waves, constant lazy smile painting his features, he was more confident, far more secure in himself. It made sense; he’d been a fresh teacher five years ago, when he had walked into your classroom in uncertainty, so the gained experience surely did his practice advantage. He spoke with ease – about what, you weren’t quite sure –, each of his word dancing past his lips in serious and clear, yet laid-back manner, his writing on the board as messy as you remembered it, and more cursive now, his eyes finding home on every student sitting in class for a few moments before he moved on; he wasn’t pushing, yet he lured you into trusting him, into listening to his lesson – if you hadn’t been far more interested in his alternative qualities.

Mr. Bahng had always been a good teacher – though it had barely been the quality you liked about him most. You weren’t realising the pain your teeth caused your lips while you were looking at him, melting at the sight you had entirely forgotten over the past years. It was embarrassing, the way your eyes scanned the outline of his shoulders straining against his white shirt when he stretched to write on the board, how they followed the lines of his arm, the tensing of the muscles there when he applied pressure to the charcoal. You watched his hands – veinier than you remembered – as he erased older writings with a wet sponge; the water dripping down his skin felt far more erotic than it should, and, as though teasing on purpose, he got rid of the fantasy far too quick with a simple tap of a towel, leaving his hands dry, and you hot and bothered.

It was embarrassing, the way you couldn’t get your eyes off the curve of his back, and how the tucked-in button-down hugged around his torso, the slimness of his waist in contrast to his shoulders. He presented himself so very matter-of-factly before a class not his own, and it didn’t leave you cold – the subtle dominance, the care he radiated got you squirming in your seat, fiddling with your pen. The two hours you usually spent listening and taking notes were spent in utter awe at the man, in fantasising – you suddenly wished to be kissing down his chiselled jaw which tensed with every of his word, dreamt of licking down the vein on his neck which appeared whenever he turned his head to his right. His hands danced upon your body in your imagination, pressing you against his table, hovering over you and engulfing you whole, sending shivers down your spine with every kiss he granted upon your neck, with every bite he teased against your skin –

You coughed, without much purpose but it tore you out of your thoughts, and you straightened your back to sit up-right in your chair. You grew bashful at yourself, your imagination and the wet patch between your legs; you wouldn’t have expected the man to have the same effect on you as five years ago, and if you truly thought about it, it was quite embarrassing. You hadn’t even thought about your high school music teacher the moment you had graduated, had forgotten him entirely; now you were sitting in his class again years later, as though freshly eighteen anew, a dumb student yearning after a far older man; only now, you noticed as you watched him talk, the circumstances were far different – far more to your advantage. Technically, Mr. Bahng wasn’t your teacher anymore; he was teaching you, though you doubted it to count. He’d be gone again in a few weeks, when Professor Hwang felt better – so, you convinced yourself, he wasn’t your teacher, not technically. The age difference had stayed the same, quite obviously; though now it didn’t seem to quite bother you, not anymore – you’ve been with guys his age, and not rarely. Now you were older, and your crush of far better solidity, realer, almost; you could have him, could manage to wrap him around your fingers. The chances were far better. You weren’t, in fact, freshly eighteen anymore, nor were you a dumb student; and you bagged experience. It wasn’t of advantage to you that he remembered you from school – there was a risk you had stayed a student in his memory, young and immature and far too involved into a music teacher, though you didn’t think that would stand in your way; Mr. Bahng would be easy prey, surely. He wasn’t an impossibility anymore, he was there and real, easy to seduce.

“Let’s see… Y/N, you know the answer? You look sort of distracted.”

You hadn’t much realised the shameful path of your thoughts until the very man you had been sinfully thinking about had started speaking to you himself; you had, in fact, been distracted, and, much to your embarrassment, did neither know the answer nor were you aware of the question he had asked, altogether. You blushed, apologised bashfully – he simply continued with an understanding hum and a quick, kind gaze your direction, before picking another student to answer his question; you needed him, as soon as you could have him.

You’d be ashamed of your fantasising and longing, if it had been under different circumstances; though expectantly, you weren’t at all surprised about the tension flooding in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Mr. Bahng, or the way your thighs rubbed together when his eyes scanned yours for mere seconds; it had been ages since you’ve last been intimate with anyone, and your body was urging for closure, for contact and touch – it wasn’t an absurdity that the man who had caused many sleepless nights prior was now the culprit of a similar outcome.

You picked up where you had last stopped your train of thought; you could seduce him. Surely, if you craved intimacy and closure there were far easier men to aim for – but where would be the fun in that, truly? You had always liked a challenge; you had always liked him. And though your skills hadn’t been of much use lately, you believed yourself to have the charm – there wasn’t anything speaking against your plan, if you thought about it. If you disregarded the morality of the situation, that was.

The two hours of boredom flew past you today. Your notebook was entirely empty; you already dreaded having to find someone ready to lend you their notes of the lesson, though you cared only little while you watched student by student disappearing into their next lessons after Mr. Bahng had dismissed the class, each student opening the opportunity of talking to your teacher further and further. You took your time with your own belongings, dragging out the process of packing away your paper and pen, searching around in your bag for your headphones though it wasn’t at all necessary as they lay right atop your other stuff, only standing up when the last student left the hot classroom; and you found yourself alone with Mr. Bahng. He smiled up at you kind and unknowing as you made your way up to his desk, eyes not much lingering on you as he continued collecting his own materials and leaving the desk ready for the next professor; only when your smiling figure hovered over his own across the desk he looked up at you from beneath his lashes, his seating position painting the illusion of curious puppy eyes – he was far more attractive in the close up, and excitement, a sense of anticipation filled the entirety of your chest.

“Y/N, hello! Do you… need help with anything?”

You stood and stared; you hadn’t even thought of things to talk about with him, hadn’t prepared a pretentious question that could work as a possible opener – suddenly you grew embarrassed, bashful. You felt stupid under his gaze; what the hell were you doing?

“Oh, no… I just wanted to say hi! I haven’t seen you in ages… are you doing alright? Are you still teaching in *insert name of school*?”

Not bad, you thought, though you cringed at yourself; you wondered where all the previous confidence went the moment you stood before the man. The effect he had on you was far too embarrassing. You were far too old to feel like a teenager in love.

The teacher cocked his head at you, brows raised; he hadn’t expected the question, hadn’t anticipated small talk, seemingly. Yet he huffed out in amusement after blinking at you for a few seconds, and your heartbeat against the bones in your chest was deafening. You hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Uh, yeah, it has been a while… I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.”, he snickered, stood and continued packing his stuff. “You were… never really good in my class. I never knew you had an interest in music.” Seemingly harsh words though it was a light-hearted comment as he ended it in a laugh, and you joined his amusement. You were sure you were blushing, though you decided to ignore it.

“Yeah… I never had an interest in school, you know. I always liked music, though. I just prefer listening to and making it, instead of… just learning about it.” Your voice sounded smoother now; he was easy to talk to, kind, funny. He gave you a quick look before continuing collecting his variation of pens and a last notebook, a smirk dancing around his lips – god, you needed him.

Mr. Bahng hummed approvingly at your words, locking eyes with you after snapping in the locks of his briefcase. A smile and a cocked head, and you bashed your lashes at him; just like Felix had mocked five years ago. What were you doing, truly?

“Making it? You’re a songwriter?”

The genuine interest in his voice made you light-headed, stole every thought from you. His dark eyes pierced through your own, unmoving and sure, and you almost trembled under his gaze; if you wanted to get anywhere with him, you needed to channel the charm you thought you acquired, and grow resistance against the giddiness he caused in the pit of your stomach. Your current attempts were all but miserable.

“Uhh, not really. Not yet, that is. I’m... my friends and I are in a band, though. We’re practising here on campus.”

You tried to sound as laid-back as possible, watched his reaction carefully; you enjoyed being able to look at him to your desires, eyes travelling his features up and down, growing weaker any time you passed his plush lips he couldn’t seem to stop wetting with his tongue, or his jaw which tensed with every word he spoke. He was as irresistible as you remembered him to be, and you needed to learn to have the same effect on him. You had a time limit after all; Professor Hwang wouldn’t be sick forever.

His brows raised the moment he heard the word ‘band’ – his mouth formed a silent ‘ah’, and your body heated up at the anticipation of his next words; he was interested in you now, and you deemed that to be of advantage to you.

“In a band, huh?”, he huffed in reminiscent amusement, eyes growing softer, “I love that. I’m jealous, actually. My friends and I had always been so busy in college, but making music together has kinda always been… a dream, you could say. If I can be so honest.”, his cheeks blushed at the sudden confession, the tips of his ears reddening; he looked even more insatiable when flustered.

The man swung his briefcase over his shoulder; the conversation was obviously coming to an end, yet you felt as though you couldn’t let it. You didn’t expect to fuck him right then and there, today, to succeed with your plan in the short span of ten minutes – yet you needed more of a lead than you currently had.

“Well, you’re never too old to start. Except, you know, you’re busy with… a wife and kids, or whatever.”, you laughed at your own joke, eyeing him curiously; and the man didn’t join your amusement. His smile drooped, the creases between his brows deepened; and only now you noticed the shimmering gold band around his left ring finger. Undeniably, he did have a wife, and kids possibly; his reaction and the ring spoke for themselves. Yet, undeniably also, and much to your contentment – he didn’t seem to be on good foot with the subject. As the pair of you continued making your way to the door of the classroom you apologised upon having noticed his silence and sudden clamminess, yet, internally, didn’t regret your joke in the slightest; any form of closure and trust you could tickle out of him would work best for you in the long run. You flinched at your own sadism and the utter lack of remorse you felt at your planning. Though, there wasn’t any reason yet to feel guilty; as of now, and as far as everyone could be concerned, you were a student talking to a substitute teacher you’d known from high school. Whatever developed would be as much in your hands as it would be in his own; after all, no matter what your ultimate plan would be, Mr. Bahng would need to be the one accepting or dismissing your approaches. So really, no matter how you viewed the situation, you couldn’t be the villain in the picture. Not really.

“No, no, don’t worry. We’re just… my wife and I had been hitting rough patches lately, for some time. Nothing crazy, just- typical marriage stuff. Not that it is of any interest to you.” Flustered again, his face changing into a light tone of pink, and he hid behind the classroom door he held open for you. 'Rough patches. Some time now.' – his words shouldn’t fill you with the excitement they did, and for only a second you wondered if your plan – dumb, now that you truly thought about it – was futile, immature altogether. You’d be a homewrecker, you’d be moving in morally grey area, you’d get yourself into a messy situation which would distract you from music and the band if you let it get to you; though then you watched the teacher exit the classroom behind you, a hand in his pocket to fish out his keys, warm and curious eyes on you as he locked the door – any doubt ceased to exist that very moment and having the man fall for you over the next couple weeks materialised as a plan in your path of thoughts again after you bid goodbye, the pit of your stomach ripe with giddiness as you hurried to the studio; Han would die hearing the news.

☆.☆.☆

When you opened the door to the studio the soft vibrato of an electric guitar filled your senses; right before Lino’s classes start, he hands the key over to Han, to let him use the studio in his free windows while waiting for the rest of you. You knew the stuffy room was Han’s favourite place to be creative in, to use for writing songs and practice whenever the five of you couldn’t get together. You would always be the first to meet him right after your music classes, the others arriving about half an hour later – though today you took longer, so you didn’t have much time to gush about your news.

“Hi! You’re late today. Did Hwang keep you?”

As soon as Han had heard the door open his eyes had searched for your figure, and the sounds of his guitar died into nothingness. He took his instrument off – the worn-out fabric having left a visible red mark on the soft skin of his neck – and plopped down on the sofa positioned in a corner of the room, right beside the set-up of instruments. He chewed on a piece of gum, lounging onto the old brown leather after placing his guitar on its’ standee; he hadn’t yet noticed the buzz you radiated as you closed the door behind you and made home in the dusty studio, throwing your rucksack against the sofa carelessly. Without awaiting an answer from you, Han started talking mindlessly, scrolling through his phone in the process.

“I actually thought we could practise this new song I finished earlier. I could play it for you when everyone’s here and go over it all. It’s not the one I was telling you about befo-“

“Wait, wait, wait, I need to tell you something. Urgent. Don’t need the others to know.”

Your voice cut off his, and Han’s eyes lost the screen of his phone now. He converted them to you, perplexed; finally, he noticed the blush around your cheeks and neck, the mischievous sparkle in your eyes, the smirk on your lips – you had been up to no good. You stood against the backrest of the sofa, watched him sit up a bit to look at you properly. His eyes were curious, his phone gone in his jeans’ pocket again, his brows slightly furrowed; the look in your eyes was almost scary, your hovering body over his own near bone-chilling.

“Do you remember Mr. Bahng.”, your voice was almost trembling, and he thought to see stars in your eyes at the sound of the name, whereas his heart stumbled in its rhythmical beating at it and calmed only seconds later. The tempo had increased though, and he felt the heavy muscle pump against the bones of his rib cage in silent fear of your next words. He looked at you wordlessly, speechless.

“My high school music teacher.” Your face emitted the same excitement and giddiness as it did when you talked of your many celebrity crushes, in anticipation of something Han wasn’t even sure of, nor wanted to know. You must have taken Han’s silence for memory loss, though he surely didn’t need the explanation.

Mr. Bahng; the name couldn’t not ring a bell. Though the both of you had never gone to the same school, there hadn’t been a single Wednesday in which Han hadn’t been victim to your gushing and thirsting over a man almost double your age, and the whining about the unfairness of the situation – if you’d been born just a little later, or Mr. Bahng just a little earlier you would have had a chance to get into his pants, yet you’d been left to only yearn for him from behind your desk, every week anew, a hopeless teen in a bad romance movie. Han did remember your high school music teacher; though he couldn’t make sense of the importance of him now. And he was scared to find out about it.

After his further silence you continued, Han’s face unchanged.

“Hwang is ill, and Mr. Bahng is gonna be my substitute teacher for a couple weeks. He’s so hot actually... I forgot how hot he was.”, excitement in your voice, and suddenly words gushed out of you in a waterfall, “He like- I didn’t expect him to walk in at all and then he suddenly stood there at the desk and he remembered me and he got so much hotter and like- I sat there and I felt like I was in school again but I realised I’m not in school anymore and am way older now so the age difference isn’t that weird anymore, you know?” Han almost hadn’t caught the question, realised too late that you expected him to say something, anything. Wrongly so, because he was still processing your words. You were excited, far too much for his taste, though he wasn’t sure why he despised the anticipation in your voice when you talked about your teacher. And, besides; ‘age difference’? ‘Not weird anymore’? He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to, because he couldn’t find any correlation in your words. When Han didn’t make a sound after a whole twenty seconds, when he kept looking at you with big, questioning eyes and a mouth agape you sucked in your breath, stepped closer to the backrest of the sofa. “Do you know what that means!?”

That sparkle in your eyes again, and Han did, in fact, not know what any of your words meant – still his heart sank, his gut felt as though having taken a punch. He wasn’t expecting anything he’d be excited to hear.

“I can fuck him now.”

The boy choked on his piece of gum, coughing in reaction to your words – his eyes watered, his palm beat against his chest in order to get rid of the sting in his throat, to fill his lungs with proper oxygen again. He hadn’t expected your words; and yet internally, he must have. His body had reacted before you had declared your news; when you had first mentioned your teacher. The name itself sent a set of shivers down Han’s entire body. The absurd confession of wanting – and planning, apparently – to fuck said teacher was even worse. A feeling he couldn’t quite explain found home in his chest, in the pit of his stomach, in the veins pumping right beneath his skin. His hands felt clammy, far too sweaty. What was that reaction? It’s not like he was jealous, he couldn’t be; your words couldn’t make sense to him, though, sounded utterly wrong. Fucking? Your teacher? It wasn’t like you.

“That’s insane. He’s your teacher.”, Han retorted after far too many moments of silence in which you had nothing but stared at him, expectantly. Han reciprocated your gaze with an emotion in his eyes that caused you to furrow your brows; it wasn’t agony, per se, but it was more than worry. It confused you.

“Well, he’s not really. He’s only here for a couple weeks, it doesn’t count.” You made your way over to take a seat next to Han, shoving his legs to the side to make room. He let you, feet flapping off it without resistance, the heaviness of his boots against the wooden floor echoing through the room; the strange expression in his eyes deepened, and it was too intense for you to keep looking.

“That’s still… he’s still a teacher. Like, he’s in a power position, you can’t- you can’t just fuck him. That’s insane.”, Han’s voice was far too agitated for your liking. “And besides, I doubt he’d fuck you. You’re just, like- a student. What’s in there for him except the loss of his job.” He didn’t look you in the eyes while talking – a rip in the old leather sofa was far more interesting to him suddenly, and his teeth nibbled on the silver metal of his piercing. The fingers in his lap fiddled; he was too nervous, too upset and it angered you.

Your head snapped at him; you wouldn’t have expected him to be so against the idea. Maybe you had been dumb, after all. Could Mr. Bahng lose his job? Have you been delusional, too enamoured by his looks you had forgotten over the past five years and influenced by the lack, the drought of any recent intimacy? But then again; Han’s reaction enraged you. It felt like jealousy, far less like the worry you would have understood. And you couldn’t make sense why it did.

“First of all, don’t act all high and mighty when I know you’d happily sleep with like half your current professors if you’d be given the chance – the only thing you ever tell me about class is how good Mrs. Yoo's ass looks in the skirts she’s wearing.”, your voice sounded loud through the room; not truly angry, but defending, maybe. You were too stubborn to admit the stupid plan was all but immature; and you despised that Han wasn’t as excited as you had been. His behaviour ticked you off; it didn’t occur often that the both of you weren’t on the same page about something.

“And besides, maybe Mr. Bahng is horny for me, too. His marriage is shit, as much as I know, so he might- “

“Marriage?! Y/N, don’t tell me you’re serious?” Han’s voice vibrating through the studio made you flinch in your seat, and you looked at him, eyes wide and brows scrunched into one thin line. You knew where he was coming from; but he acted differently altogether. You knew he wouldn’t be in one boat with you about the marriage bit, but you hadn’t imagined him to react this way, throughout the entire conversation; he was jealous, and you had never seen him this way. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, and the irritation over it caused your head to ache.

“Well, I am serious. Just because you can’t get laid doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with someone I’ve had a crush on since forever, now that the opportunity is there. Besides, I haven’t even fucked him yet, so get your head out of your ass.”

Your words were harsh, and you regretted them the moment they had materialised in the stuffy room. The studio tensed, your bodies did; and you stayed silent. You didn’t apologise; your stubbornness wouldn’t let you. Additionally, you didn’t even believe to be in the wrong, not entirely. Sure, you were moving in morally grey areas, and you had hit a sensitive spot within your friend; but you hadn’t lied, and he knew it as much as you did. Yet he only kept looking at you, for two seconds, for six, for ten; with every second you grew more and more bashful under his gaze, with every passing second the words you’d said sunk into his brain, embedded there. Until he truly grasped them a whole of twenty seconds later; the fact you were ready to screw your teacher, the fact you’d thought Han would have been excited about the news, the fact you wouldn’t apologise now or rethink your plan in the several moments he was granting you stabbed a wound into his fastening heart. A wound the motive of which he wasn’t all too sure about, yet it felt deeper than he’d anticipated it to. You stayed silent and he stayed looking at you; until he couldn’t bear holding your gaze anymore.

“I need to go out for a smoke.”

The guitarist got up, almost tripped over the dirty carpet under the sofa as he made his way out of the studio. You were fuming, felt guilty, felt bad; you were 22 years old; how could you still fight with Han as though you were both mere teenagers? How could you continue being so very stubborn, believe with so much conviction to still be in the right?

Han didn’t get the chance to open the door to the studio; before his hand could reach for the door handle Lino walked in with the rest of your bandmates, all chatting and quarrelling about something unknown – and, in your current state, uninteresting – to you, before they all fell silent at the sight of the both of you; Han’s head hung low, the usual excitement when everyone arrived absent, you sitting in the corner on the sofa with crossed arms and a look in your face which nothing but scared the rest. Changbin looked from Han to you and back to Han again while Lino and Jeongin made their way inside – slowly and quietly – to set up their instruments; not without questioning looks in their faces. The tension in the room was tangible, and the silence between the two of you was unusual, so you didn’t blame them for their sudden bashfulness.

“Yo, did you two fight? You look beaten up man.”, Changbin expressed with a palm to Han’s shoulder. You ignored his question, got up from the sofa to set up your guitar. You would get it over with practice, and see Han again tomorrow; everything would be settled by then, as always. You would talk again as though nothing happened, if you only survived today.

“It’s nothing, just need to get out for a smoke.” Han’s voice not convincing and to make matters worse, he shoved Changbin’s hand off, and the elder looked at the others with confusion-written eyes when Han left the studio without another word. All three of them looked at you then, wordlessly; though you continued setting up your instrument, throwing the leather band over your neck, plugging the cable into the AMP before turning it on, and soft vibratos halled through the room as you started tuning your guitar. None of them said a word, neither did you; you didn’t as much as look at them. Maybe you weren’t all that grown-up, far more immature than you believed yourself to be. Maybe the idea with Mr. Bahng was stupid, and Han had been right entirely; and the fight for nothing, inherently. It wouldn’t be the first time your ego was too big for your wrongdoings to be visible to yourself – though, in the heat of the moment and in your anger, you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, so you continued sulking, until Jeongin declared to go out for a smoke as well, and the others agreed to join him; leaving you in the studio by yourself, alone with your thoughts – you were thankful for it, if they’ve left on purpose or not.

Han was in the wrong, you thought. Not that you were entirely in the right, either; but he had overreacted, surely. Mr. Bahng wasn’t really your teacher – he wouldn’t lose his job if he fucked you, not if no one caught you until he was gone again. And that was only a matter of weeks; you weren’t sure how long it would take to persuade him – if it would work at all –, so, for all you cared he could be gone before you caught the chance of getting into his pants. You remembered your previous train of thought, and Han’s words; if there was nothing in there for Mr. Bahng, the situation would dissolve, anyways. Eventually, it was up to him if he’d accept your seducing or not – you would simply open the opportunity, everything else wasn’t in your hands anymore. The marriage was the only thing you felt worse about after having talked to Han. You felt guiltier now, were aware that you shouldn’t pursue a married man; and yet, again, you remembered your thoughts you had brewed on when you’d sat in the classroom. If Mr. Bahng’s relationship was so great and worth working on, he would shut out your attempts. He would pretend not to notice your flirting – however you would you didn’t know yet – or he would shut you off clearly, verbally. You would only offer yourself; the rest would be up to him.

It was your stubbornness, surely, and maybe you should simply sleep over your thoughts for a night, but no matter from which perspective you looked at the situation, you couldn’t truly feel guilty. Or maybe you didn’t want to – whatever the reason was, though, giddiness filled your insides again at the thought of next weeks’ class and the possible start of your attempts; until then Han and you would laugh about your fight, and he’d be as excited as you were.

Outside, Han was puffing blue smoke into the scorching air. Changbin and Jeongin talked of something he didn’t pay attention to, Lino eyed him occasionally, which he didn’t notice; neither of them talked to him after he had shut off the question if he was fine with a voice that led them to understand he wasn’t really, but wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, either. He was thankful they didn’t push him, that they acted indifferent.

It’s not like he was jealous – he was simply being a good friend to you. Who knew what kind of trouble you would find yourself in if you fucked your teacher; surely, he was only being caring, prioritizing your well-being. The stinging pain in his heart when he remembered your excitement he chose to ignore, and the insides of his stomach flipping and squeezing together in agony at your carelessness about his reaction, about the entire situation he couldn’t quite interpret, so he chose to ignore that, too. Because if he thought about it too much, confusion and perplexity formed his entire being; confusion about his own reaction, perplexity about the fact he had expected to be excited with you but couldn’t be, physically. As though something was holding him back from feeling happiness about your own, when it involved another. He was angry, he was irritated with himself; atop all, he hated fighting with you, deeply. You were the one person he shouldn’t fight with, ever, the one anchor in his life. If things were bumpy with you, everything else felt out of balance.

“C’mon, let’s practice.”

Han hadn’t noticed how the others had grinded their cigarettes with the soles of their shoes, and with a pat to his shoulder Changbin entered the studio first, followed by Jeongin, then by Lino; who didn’t go in without a last concerned look at his younger friend who was eyeing the asphalt beneath his feet. Han almost didn’t want to go in, didn’t want to face you – he feared his bodily reactions if he happened to see you, he feared to feel the sting in his heart again, the one he found so hard to understand, to name. He threw his cigarette on the ground, tapped out the burning, orange blaze with the pad of his boot. He would get over with practice; tomorrow you and him would be back to the old same again.

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh @chrizzztopherbang @qtieskz @rylea08 @miss-fallon @sikebishes @h0n3yj4y @lashaemorow

#skz smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines

104 notes · View notes