#apparently i'm not the only closer who's had this problem so 🤷

[wildflowercryptid]

why do customers always stay until the last minute whenever i'm closing, i'm gonna fuckin lose it—

[tiredofthehumanlife]

A Complete Unknown Title

apparently

Barbie dolls: musician!Regulus black x musician! Gn! Reader

Word: 3k

Summary: I watched A Complete Unknown and it inspired me so here you go ig you're a musician and you run into another musician

Warnings: probaly a part one out of idk how many but this cracks me up to write ngl, American reader 🙏 or at the least you're living in America for at least four+ years🙏 I'm american so let's be kind I didn't ask for this life, smoking, regulus is kinda Sirius core for a little bit that's okay, take a shot Everytime I say gray, kissing before you know each other's names, you drive a convertible now 🤷 I think they're cool idk, sharing a cigarette, swapping saliva, regulus licks your thumb idk dude roll w it, we don't learn Regulus' name until like the end 🫠, tiny mention of sex, you believe in fate now, reg is kinda a whimpery loser pussy whipped bitch, pussy whipped used gender neutrally of course, yippee

Music has always been your simple escape. The lyrics and tunes came to you easily, spilling out your fingers onto the page and your guitar. Your favorite time of the year was the musical festival. It was so huge that you traveled over state lines just to stand on that stage and share the words and tunes you crafted. You lugged around your suitcase and guitar case for days to get to that mic stand. 

Stages were one of the only places you felt truly comfortable. This stage was different. The wooden floor felt like home. The wings made your shoulders relax. The crowd made you feel complete. The moment you were finally performing at the music festival again you felt every single problem from the year before wash away. Of course, it was your favorite time of year. Everything about it was perfect. 

Until a black-haired, gray-eyed man rode into town on a loud motorcycle. You caught a glimpse of him as you were in town looking through postcards. You liked taking one back home after each festival and adding it to your wall. As you picked up one with a nice cityscape on it, you were startled by the roaring of his motorcycle. 

The card slipped from your hands, floating down to the floor. You scoffed and dipped down, snatching the card up. You stood up, wiping the possible dirt off the card. You glanced out the window, finding the loud culprit. 

You liked to think you had strong and solid opinions, especially with people. You knew you made quick and fast judgments, but you had good cause usually. A loud man on his motorcycle; must certainly be annoying and inconsiderate, therefore unworthy of your time. Unfortunately, this man on a loud motorcycle seemed to be different. You set the card back into its place, moving closer to the window. You were drawn to him without even knowing a lick of anything about him. It was a strange feeling, knowing your feet were moving and you weren't telling them to. 

He was quite alluring apparently. His black curls were styled perfectly, seemingly placed in just the right places. A leather jacket was pulled over his shoulders, making your eyebrow twinge. He had sunglasses on, hiding half his face. The fact you couldn't tell where exactly he was looking somehow made him more interesting. You pulled open the shop door, standing out on the sidewalk to get a better look. 

He was stuck behind a red light and a large group of people walking across the crosswalk. You raised a brow at the guitar case on his back. Maybe he was in town for the festival. You've been going about four years now and never seen him before. Where had he been hiding all these years? 

The man must've felt your eyes on him because he lifted his head in your direction. He paused, staring right back at you. You gestured at your eyes, asking him to take off the glasses. The man smiled just briefly for a second. It was very small and someone who wasn't staring dead at his face, wouldn't have seen it. He pulled down his sunglasses, resting them on the tip of his nose. His eyes were strange. 

They were the color of the sky just as the sun was setting. The cold feeling of the hardwood floors in winter. The metal silverware you used to stir your tea and cut your breakfast. The ringing of a bell above your head dragging you further into a store. The water of a lake lapping at your chin as you watch the sun move closer to the horizon, knowing you'll have to get out soon. All you could do was smile, feeling the soft yet cold gray wrap around you. You didn't know his name or even his favorite food but you wanted to sit across from him and stare into his eyes for the rest of your life. 

Of course, that's a strange thing to say to a stranger so instead you settled for “What's in the case?” Very charming. The man slid his glasses back up, a tiny huff pushing out his nose. He looked up at the light as it changed from red to green. 

“Guitar.” He yelled back. Just like that he started his loud motorcycle again and turned down the road. You watched his jacket flap behind him as he rode off into the distance, the feeling of his eyes slowly retreating from your body. You let out a sigh, wishing there was some way to bottle up the way his eyes made you feel and keep it in a necklace so you'd have access to it at all times. 

You settled down, knowing that was probably the last time you'll ever see him. Your focus was back on the music festival. You were used to the whole thing, it felt like a second home at this point. Your shoes were kicked off with your jacket, thrown on the same table you have your years. The little table served you well, It held up your jacket and guitar case, waited patiently for your return, and hid your shoes underneath it.

You waited in the wing, your guitar on your back. You smiled and clapped as another artist left the stage. You liked his songs they made your foot tap. He waved goodbye to the stage. The act before yours stepped up to the microphone, greeting the crowd. You anxiously fiddled with your guitar strap. You pretended like you were paying attention to the lyrics, nodding your head along. You knew the singer or bands behind you were probably glancing at you every now and then. You knew most of them, or at least met some of them. Usually, the people who played last year were playing the next year with a few new faces. Though it was usually a handful of new faces out of armfuls of known faces. You liked it that way. 

Boots thunked on the wooden floor, skipping ahead of the line. You ignored it. They were probably stuck in the bathroom, the lines were awful. You continued to nod to the music, your hands still twisting your guitar strap. The boots stomped next to you, the toe-tapping steadily now. You paused, glancing at the person from the corner of your eye. Black curls and a leather jacket.

You turned your head to fully look at him. The motorcycle man was next to you. He turned his head, facing you. His lips twitched, the tiniest smile you’ve ever seen. He pulled his sunglasses off, hooking them into his button-up shirt. You felt the soft and cold gray wrap itself around your skin again. You felt your lips rebel against you and turn up into a smile. He pointed down at the guitar resting against his body. You nodded, evidently, it was a guitar in his case. 

The singer stepped away from the microphone, earning cheers and claps. You raised your hands, clapping along. The man next to you clapped, keeping his eyes on you. You didn’t turn your head at all, staring into the man’s eyes. 

“You’re up next. Break a leg.” The singer muttered as they walked past you. You sent them a smile, recognizing them as someone you shared lunch with last festival. You swung your guitar around and headed for the microphone stand. Cheers met your arrival. You waved, leaning towards the microphone. 

You easily moved through the small set of songs you planned. The crowd was lovely as always. The stage comforted you as you floated through your songs. You could never bite down the smile that came with performing. You loved sharing your music, it made your soul swirl and dance. You watched the faces of the crowd, a soft sway moving through them. A smile etched itself on many faces, each one different. One woman was missing a tooth, one man had dimples, and a young couple was dancing together both of whom had similar smiles.

Yet with all those teeth shining bright at you, your thoughts wandered to one particular smile. You turned your head, finding the gray eyes already waiting for you. His lips were turned up, a smile just a smidgen brighter than it was before. Your grin grew, your head turning back to the crowd. 

As you wrapped up your final song, you thanked the crowd, blowing a kiss to them all. You headed back towards the wing and swung your guitar back around. You stood next to the motorcycle man. He watched you as you did so. 

“Stick around for my songs?” He asked, pulling his glasses from his shirt. You gave him a one-shouldered shrug. 

“I suppose.” You responded, watching him as he started towards the microphone. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose, greeting the crowd with a simple hello. 

You’d heard plenty of music before, plenty of lyrics, plenty of tunes, and plenty of artists. He was different. Something about him and his music made you want to cry and curl into a ball and dance on your way down to the floor. You might even push it to say you loved it. He finished his set, leaving the crowd stunned. He headed back towards you, standing in front of you. He pulled his glasses off, raising a brow at you. You hummed. 

“I like it. A lot. It’s…” You paused, staring at him like the answer would come from his features. He tilted his head to the side, waiting. The next band’s shoes clomped past you. You felt a rather devious grin meet your face. Your smile unsettled him, the question of what was entertaining you so bugged him. Your hand slipped up to the back of his neck, tugging him towards you. The tips of your noses brushed. His smile quirked up, tilting his head to the side for you. His lips were a breath away from yours. You leaned forward, finally pressing your lips to his. 

You pictured the remnants of your songs still glossing your lips. His lyrics swirled with yours, a whole new feeling sprouting between the two of you. His hand reached out for you, gripping onto your shirt. His guitar was trapped between the two of you, leaving you feeling unsatisfied. You pulled away from him, your hand slipping from his nape and dropping to the neck of his guitar. 

“Didn’t realize my songs were that good.” He muttered. You hummed, turning away from him. You headed towards the back of the stage, right for your little table. The man called out to you. 

“Wait! Do I even get your name?” He asked, jogging after you. You didn’t bother glancing over your shoulder, continuing on your way. 

“Maybe later.” You said, turning the corner. The sounds of his boots stalled, staying somewhere near the stage wings. You collected your things, loaded yourself back into your car, and headed into town for lunch. 

You didn’t run into him again until the next afternoon. You packed light yet you still needed to take a second trip to your room for your guitar. As you reached your convertible again you saw The Man leaning against the driver's door, a cigarette pressed between his lips. Your eyes rolled as a smile reached your lips. You pulled your guitar case closer to you. 

“What’s in the case?” He asked, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. His head turned with you as you walked past him to the trunk of your car. You almost laughed. Almost. 

“Guitar.” You responded, setting your case into your trunk. The Man pushed himself off your car, joining you at your side. You slammed the trunk shut,  leaning on it to watch him. He stood in front of you, flicking the cigarette off to the side.

His shades were still on, you wondered if he slept with them on. You reached forward and dragged them off his face. You pushed them up onto your nose.  You glanced around, adjusting to the dimmer world. You looked at him, missing the gray of his eyes already. You plucked the glasses off, hooking them in your shirt like he had before. You looked up at his eyes again, finding the proper gray again. You muttered your name. His eyebrow raised, swallowing the grin spreading on his face. 

“Regulus.” He said, pulling in a breath of smoke. Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. You pictured it in your head over and over until it was burned into your skull in the same gray as his eyes. 

“I like it.” You answered. You reached forward and plucked the cigarette from his mouth. He tilted his head back, blowing the smoke over his head in a plume. Regulus looked back at you. You held his eyes with yours as you pressed the cigarette to your lips, inhaling deeply. His eyes dipped to the cigarette, staying with your lips as you moved the cigarette from your mouth. Regulus watched the smoke slip from your mouth, spreading out around the both of you. You held the cigarette up to his mouth, butt first. Regulus leaned forward, capturing the cig from your fingers with his lips. You ignored the smile that sprouted from his lips brushing against your finger. He held the cigarette, letting you drop your hand. Regulus pulled it from his mouth, huffing out. 

“How much do you like it? As much as my songs?” Regulus asked, his lips tugging at the memory. You hummed and let his question simmer. More than his songs, you decided. More than kiss-worthy, pantless worthy.

”No.” You turned away from him, slipping out from between him and your trunk. Regulus snorted, following after you. You swung open the driver's door, settling into your car. The top was down so getting in the car didn’t exactly put a barrier between you and Regulus. Not that you minded much. Regulus leaned down, resting his arms on the edge of your door. You looked up at him. 

“Where do you live?  In case I want to take a visit to that town for no particular reason.” Regulus asked, holding the cigarette out and away from your car. You shrugged. You reached out and held the side of his face, running your thumb under his eye. 

“I believe in fate. I didn’t tell you which hotel I was staying at, or when I was leaving, but here you are. I-“ 

“I was perched next to my window all day, watching for any glimpse of you,” Regulus muttered. You shrugged. 

“I think, if we’re meant to be, you’ll find me again. Of course, if you can’t in the next year, we have the festival.” You said, tugging at a curl by his ear. It bounced back into place, making you smile. Regulus hung his head, sighing. He looked up at you through his hair, rather pathetically hot you think. 

“I’m not sure if a year without talking to you won’t drive me mad,” Regulus whispered. You laughed at that. The preposterous claim was rather funny. Regulus hadn’t heard your laugh ever in his entire life, now that he has he’s not entirely certain that he won’t go through withdrawals without it. He lurched forward and pressed his nose into the skin of your cheek. He tilted his head up, pressing a lazy kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t go just yet. Let me take you to dinner, or at least tell me what state you live in.” Regulus muttered into your skin. He pulled away as you turned your head. You shook your head and wanted to chuckle at him again. 

“Regulus you’ve lived your entire life without ever knowing me. You just learned my name about five minutes ago. I’m sure you can go a year without me.” You said, turning your key to start your car. Regulus frowned. He stared at you with his damned gray eyes. 

“A kiss for the road?” He pleaded. You hummed, shrugging. You turned to face him pulling him down by his neck again. Your first kiss there was a guitar in your way. Your second kiss there was a car door in the way. You liked this one a little more. Regulus was making this one last. The moment he felt your lips on his, he was lurching forward and moving his lips with yours. His hand held your cheek, keeping you steady. You let your hand rest on his neck, fingers venturing towards his hair. Your other hand waited on the steering wheel. Your hand traveled to his chin. You pressed your thumb into it as your tongue swiped across his bottom lip. Regulus opened his mouth instantaneously for you, meeting his tongue with yours. He sighed, leaning further over the car door.

You pulled back, lips quirking at the groan Regulus made. You wiped at your lips with your thumb before reaching forward and pressing it to Regulus’ lips. His tongue darted out, swiping over your fingerprint. You sighed and sat forward again, settling both hands on the steering wheel. You pulled his sunglasses from your shirt, pushing them onto your face. 

“You don’t mind me borrowing these do you, Regulus?” You looked at him, watching him shake his head as your hand set your car into reverse. 

“Not at all. I can get new ones.” Regulus muttered, pulling the cigarette to his mouth. You nodded. 

“Thought so. I’ll wear them on my next album cover, so you know I’m thinking of you.” You said, raising a brow at him. Regulus smiled, stepping away from your car. 

“You’ll know when I’m thinking of you. Hear it in the wind or something else poetic.” Regulus shouted, watching you slowly pull out from the parking lot. You hooked your finger in the corner of the glasses, looking at him over the edge. 

“I’m sure I will, Regulus.” You said, sliding into traffic. Regulus watched you from the parking lot as your car drove away from him, the kisses, the festival, the town, and the state. Regulus wasn’t sure if one kiss could hold him over for 12 months. He would have to find you before he lost his sanity.