#krist novoselic fluff

[thecitysgraveyard]

Over ice cream

warnings - none really :)

masterlist

requests

ship - krist novoselic x gn!reader

the au is you and krist are working together </3

You wake up to that same old alarm and you go brush your teeth, do your routine . You sigh , you know it going to be the same old things and then gotta get to work , you don't want to be scolded by donna again , and you then start walking out , then towards the bus station and you saw krist, you felt happy . He was always sweet , kind , caring and the list could go on , with a smile he waved at you and you did the same.

You got on the bus , and he said with a smile 'hello love ,how are you?, hope you are doing fine.' 'Hi krist , I'm fine , what about you?'

'Well I'm same old me' he said with a chuckle , you always thought he kinda cute , you never really told , because you were a bit shy and then suddenly the bus stopped 'here's our stop love' , he followed after you and then he said 'oh right , I-I got you something' and he pulled out a box with a cute little bow on top , he said 'its a gift for yesterday ,f-for helping me' , he had a shy little gaze and you said 'krist you didn't have too' , 'But thank you krist , I appreciate it' .

You had a small blush , you body felt warm and you took the little box from his hand . You opened it , it was a cute little teddy bear , you felt happy and you said 'Thank you krist, as a little thank you I will be treating you to ice cream' 'You didn't have too y/n' , he had a shy little tone.

You saw time and said 'Oh shit , we gotta go , otherwise donna is going to kill us' , had a soft smile as he said ' Right , let's go.'

The day passed by and it was almost closing time , and donna already left and so you went to krist, were behind him and you asked 'Krist shall we go to our ice cream date' . He seemed surprised at the choice of words and even a little flustered . He always had a crush on you ,but never admitted it ,he always thought who would like him

He then turned around and said with a small smile 'S-Shall we?'

He followed after you and you walked to the ice cream parlor , you and krist both took more than 5 minutes choosing flavours and in the end you both ended up with vanilla in cups because they sadly ran out of cones

krist said that he would pay but I would let that happen not on my watch , this is my treat and I can't have him paying , so I slapped his hand out of the way

We then exited the place , I then felt kinda bad for slapping his hand so I start to say ' 'm sorry for slapping your hand , I w-wanted to pay since it was my treat.' , he looked at me a bit confused looking and he said 'why do help me?' , all I could do was look at him , and as I got my mind together

I said 'Hey listen to me krist , I help you because I like you , you are kind , helpful , sweet and you don't treat people the way other people would' , you said all that in one breath and you just realized what you said

You might have kinda told him that you like him . You looked at him , he also had a kinda small blush like yours and he bent a bit ,

his lips touched your and you melted right there and then ,it was sweet and you felt a warm feeling

You felt the happiest you ever had , you felt like luckiest person on earth and then you pulled away to catch you breaths .

He quietly said 'I love you y/n.'

'I love you too krist'

A soft smile came on him , he saw the time he looked surprised and said 'Love we should head home , its getting late and we don't want to be late tomorrow.'

When you went to bed that day , you thought how you met krist

taglist

krist novoselic tag -

[memobread]

im actually gonna cry bc of how fine this man is

HES SO FUCKING HOT AND HIS FUCKING HANDS JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH

i am so unbelievably HORNY FOR THIS FUCKING MAN. i swear to god i'd let him do absolutely anything to me. i am merely an object of his pleasure. holy fucking shit i need this man so so so so so bad i'm gonna cry. DAVE FICS COMING DAVE FICS COMING DAVE FICS COMING FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKK

[cliffburtonscig]

MASTERLIST

SMUT: ⁎ FLUFF: ~ ANGST: ৻

METALLICA

James Hetfield

feel it *

Kirk Hammett

Lars Ulrich

Cliff Burton

Jason Newsted

Robert Trujillo

GNR

Axl Rose

Steven Adler

Saul "Slash" Hudson

Izzy Stradlin

quiet *

Duff McKagan

MOTLEY CRUE

Nikki Sixx

Mick Mars

Tommy Lee

Vince Neil

QUEEN

Freddie Mercury

Roger Taylor

John Deacon

Brian May

NIRVANA

Dave Grohl

Krist Novoselic

CRIMINAL MINDS

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Others

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rodgers

Peter Parker

Tony Stark

Thor Odinson

Wade Wilson

Others

THE WALKING DEAD

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixson

Carl Grimes

Glenn Rhee

Negan

Others

STRANGER THINGS

Billy Hargrove

001

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Will Byers (aged up)

Dustin Henderson (aged up)

Mike Wheeler (aged up)

Jim Hopper

Jonathan Byers

Lucas Sinclair (aged up)

others

HARRY POTTER

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Tom Riddle

Draco Malfoy

Severus Snape

Ron Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Sirius Black

Cedric Diggory

Neville Longbottom

Remus Lupin

Bellatrix Lestrange

Regulus Black

Lucius Malfoy

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Lorenzo Berkshire

Theodore Nott

Blaise Zambini

Oliver Wood

METAL LORDS

Kevin Schlieb

Hunter Slyvester

OUTERBANKS

Rafe Cameron

JJ Maybank

John Rutledge

Pope Heyward

BTS

Kim Seokjin

Min Yoongi

Jung Hoseok

Kim Namjoon

Park Jimin

Kim Taehyung

Jeon Jungkook

[sabrinaleatherwood]

Backstage

ship - Kurt cobain x reader

credits to GIF owner

warnings - kissing, cursing, mentions of sex(no actual smut),mentions of smoking, cigarettes, possibly typos, fluff

Feel free to reblog or repost :)

You had just arrived at the building your boyfriends band Nirvana was playing tonight. After going to the store to get Kurt a pack of cigarettes you had rushed back from the store to see him before they went on stage. As you walked in from the back door you quickly went to the room you knew Kurt would be. As you walked up to the door of the room you knocked softly, hearing a "come in." You opened the door to see Kurt and the other band members, Dave and Krist sitting on two seperate couches, Dave and Krist on one, and Kurt on the other. You walked over to sit next to Kurt. As you approached him he smiled up at you and grabbed your hand pulling you next to him. "Hi my love" he whispered softly into your ear. "Hey baby" you whispered back. "I got your cigarettes" you said to him after a moment of silence. "Thank you sweetheart." He smiled at you. Someone, probably an band manager, walked in and told the band they were on in 10 minutes. As everyone stood up Kurt held out his hand to help you up. You took his hand and he pulled you into him wrapping his arms around your waist. You put your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He began to deepen the kiss when you stopped him "Not now love" you said softly. "You have a show to do." Resting his forehead on yours he whined Back "Fine but after the show I'm gonna fuck you so hard you wont be walking for days." You blushed and looked down softly pushing at his chest. "Go play your damn show Cobain". He smiled saying "I'll see you later y/l/n, I love you." He pulled you in for one more kiss. " I love you too" was the last thing you said to him before watching him smile at you then walk on stage with the rest of the band. You went into the crowd and watched him blow you a kiss from the stage. You blew one back to him as they began the first song.

Sorry it's short!

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x) 

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised. 

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms. 

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,” 

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” 

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,” 

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet. 

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,” 

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

[thecitysgraveyard]

celebrities masterlist

bo burnham

nothing done yet

kurt cobain

nothing done yet

dave grohl

nothing done yet

krist novoselic

over ice-cream (co worker au) (krist novoselic x gn!reader)

warnings - a kiss and tooth rotting fluff.

kirk hammett

reader interviewing kirk (kirk hammett x f!reader)

warnings - eighteen plus, flirting, fluff, kisses, p in v, smut and nicknames.

older!kirk with younger!reader (kirk hammett x f!reader)

warnings - age gap, kisses, and fluff.

threesome (james hetfield x reader x kirk hammett)

warnings - eighteen plus, just straight up smut, and nicknames.

kirk having a crush on james's daughter (kirk hammett x f!reader)

warnings - mentions of kissing, flirting, and fluff.

kirk making reader cockwarm him while he practices guitar (kirk hammett x f!reader)

warnings - smut, eighteen plus, p in v, bratty reader, and tiny bit of a spit kink.

essentially part two of the cockwarming fic with him fucking you after kirk making you cockwarm him (kirk hammett x f!reader)

warnings - smut, eighteen plus, p in v, degradation, and nicknames.

james hetfield

reader catching james's eye on one of his concerts (james hetfield x f!reader)

warnings - kisses and fluff.

james taking all of his anger out on you (james hetfield x f!reader)

warnings - eighteen plus, kisses, p in v, smut, and nicknames.

innocent!reader not understanding the sexual jokes and remarks said by the interviewer (james hetfield x f!reader)

warnings - fluff, and allusions to smut.

threesome (james hetfield x reader x kirk hammett)

warnings - eighteen plus, just straight up smut, and nicknames.

aaron taylor johnson

nothing done yet

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl x kurt cobain

hi guys omg- it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something, and my nirvana obsession has risen once again so what a thought into writing something dedicated to the one and only kurt himself <3 thank you ever so much to the person who requested this, i managed to write something i think i’m somewhat proud of aha

Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing! 

Word count: 2.165

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

Waiting for him to appear on stage for the first time was like a moment snatched out of a drunken stupor: so surreal I had to continuously pinch myself every few minutes for reassurance that this was really happening. With a mind cluttered in thought, it became hard to sit still for as little as ten seconds without being accompanied by an itch to either scratch my scalp in nervousness, or chew on my already bitten nails - attempting to sand off their roughened look from my previous antics. The most I had drunk that night was a couple sips of my gingerish coloured beer - with the room buzzing in anticipation and curiosity for who was headlining the bar tonight, it caused everything that even shifted slightly in its position to irritate me in all ways plausible. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t manage to let anything settle in my stomach without having a sudden rush of nausea bubble up in my throat; it was Kurt’s first performance tonight with his new, reformed band, and being told that he was quite nervous triggered an anxiety in my veins stronger than the pain of the first rush of heroin dousing my body after months of not being able to get hold of it - allowing all my stress, agony and dread to escape my body at an expeditious rate as my body adorned the poison I was granting into my limbs. It was inevitable: Kurt was bound to be nervous before his first performance with new material to a bunch of strangers that had never seen the wonders of his model-face before, and although he had performed many times, a grasp of worry still caught into his hair as he tried to pass the time, like a knot you seemingly are unable to rid of, leaving you with no other choice but to resort to grabbing a pair of kitchen scissors and chopping that bunch of hair off. Which he had done many times. 

Whilst time speedily went on, I found myself calming down by a small amount, consoling myself with different types of remedies in solution: downing my drink, ordering another (this time a gin & tonic to spice things up) and repeating the same, before slamming my now empty glass to the table and standing up to get a clearer view of the stage, knowing they were going to come on soon. All that wondered in my mind was Kurt, quickly reminding myself over all the time we had spent together - the times when we had first become friends. I had been introduced to him early last year when Krist had asked me if I wanted to see his new band he was bassing for - and immediately was I enthralled, knowing that once I had laid my eyes on him, I would never be able to detach them from him: a poor man, masked in aristocracy in ways not physical as it may seem. He captivated me. His presence carried such warmth it was able to counter against the sun; your cheeks immediately burning as he locked eyes with you. You instantly wanted to wrap your arms around him, and when talking, you were instantly drawn to his short yet meaningful phrases, laced in passion stronger than an avocado seed. As my eyes were locked firmly together with his, I was able to notice something so pure and wondrous I had been unsuccessful in finding in anyone else: care. A simple emotion, somehow one of the hardest to master. Regardless of what the subject matter might be, he always carried a certain interest to it - constantly having something to say. Even if you found him sitting excluded from everyone else, you could notice that there was something either battling his mind, or inspiring him for something - new music, lyrics perhaps. It’s enticing, it's human. He’s human.

Suddenly, a distorted strum of a guitar abruptly blared through one of the many amplifiers dotted around the small stage at the end of the room. The crowded space was now silenced by the hasty noise, my (slightly intoxicated, yet conscious) head now instantly turning to see what had happened - although I was for certain it was the time I had been most excited for. Little whispers and hushes were the only things you were able to hear for the span of a few seconds as the amp's sound had silenced itself, a small buzz affiliating throughout the room, a couple of heads turning back and forth to see the number of people collectively awaiting to listen to the music of the unknown band performing tonight. My eyes stayed glued to the stage as I pictured his character, standing there in the middle, Krist and Chad capturing the rest of the space, adorned by their instruments - playing along to Kurt’s beautiful melodies. Gazing at his figure, beautifully formed with such masculinity, decorated with concerning parts of emeation, slowly embarking its way through to the middle of the stage - guitar gripped firmly in arm - birthed dozens of baby butterflies inside my stomach, tickling my insides in all sorts of ways. My nervousness resurrected itself once again, as I had come to a realisation that I wasn’t imagining anything at all.

Silence. 

No introduction, nothing. From his immediate grace to the stage, I could tell he was nervous; the bright light emitting onto his face allowed me to see his features much more prominently - allowing you to just about to see the small stubble that was forming on his face from his forgetfulness to shave in the morning. However, I wasn’t able to admire his face for long, only for a few seconds before he fixed his gaze to his electric guitar, placing his fingers on specific chords, then turning to stare at his bandmates. A couple looks were shared between them all, a mere roll of the eyes from Chad, a small smile from Krist towards Kurt - for motivation, as the good friend he was. Kurt on the other hand didn’t change his facial expression, only nodding his head at both the boys before switching back to stare at the instrument adorned by his grip, beginning to bob his head slowly - counting himself in. Even from afar I was able to tell that at that single moment, he didn’t carry a care or a worry for anyone but his guitar, focusing all his energy and thought into this one specific thing: the start of the performance. 

1...2...3...4

As the music began, a smile branched onto my cheeks instantly. A song I recognised, my heart warming as I realised what was playing. About a girl, the song we wrote together. 

Usually, Kurt would write alone, not wanting anyone else’s input and ideas; all the band played was what Kurt had written, for it was truly only his work on that stage, just a few people helping out to put it together in life form. However, there was a significant time after a band practice weeks ago where I had attended due to me having nothing else to do, and watching the three of them play always made me feel content - holding my heart with hope for the new wave of music they were producing. As they were packing up their stuff at the end of the rehearsal, Kurt had slowly wandered off from tidying up and had come up to me, awkwardly wanting to show me what he had written for a random song: hungry for my opinion even when he never really cared what anyone thought of his music. We ended up co-writing that specific song together, the song sounding the room at this very moment. As I stared at Kurt all that was met with my eyes was his entire concentration to perfect everything that he was playing; every move of the finger producing a different sound as he attempted to hit all the ones significantly partnered with the song. He knew I was watching him, that’s why he played this song first and foremost. 

Lifting his head up from the guitar, his mouth instantly pressed itself onto the microphone, revealing his raw, raspy vocals. My eyes were physically unable to detach themselves from the sight I was seeing at this very moment. They had performed multiple times before, yet this time, something felt different. New. Almost as if everything pieced in together, and with just a bit of sanding around the edges - they’d be perfect, unlike any band I had ever seen live. Watching the crowd’s attention simply staying undivided towards the band made me feel a sort of elation the morning of Christmas would give you, the sensational feeling hitting you that its the date that brought everyone together; this time the music was the thing that brought everyone together. My eyes scanned the crowd, noticing some people bobbing their heads, surprised by their immediate tunes that were being emitted from the song, widening my smile - if that was even humanly possible at this moment. Their fresh, uncensored, gruffy sound was something not many bands at the time even thought about playing - that was for people who were behind their time, Sex Pistols era almost. The feeling that warmed my heart at that moment was something indescribable - illegitimate for words. It felt like a lighter had torched its way into my body, the sharp pain bruising a bright crimson all the way up my torso to my cheeks, a breath hitched back in my throat as I slowly figure out the way to breathe again. The pain that caressed my heart so dearingly was also paired with a strong sense of joy. Happiness. Delighted that the pieces of such a complex puzzle were fitting together. 

As a minute or so went on, the crowd slowly began to get more and more into the music, some people now swaying their hips or dancing around with their friends. I couldn’t help but wonder how Kurt was beginning to feel, or what he was already feeling. Euphoria at the highest degree, something so strong not even a multiload of ecstasy could even attempt to give you. I found myself singing along to the words quietly, resulting in the people around me noticing that I was the only one who actually knew the song apart from the band. A random guy had turned to look at me, drink firmly gripped in hand, and with his rough attempt to shout over the loud music, whilst pointing towards the stage. “You know them?”

For a couple of scenes everything went still. I stopped moving, my eyes slowly getting lost with the man standing on the stage in front of me as I accidentally ignored the stranger’s question. I continued watching the stage, my eyes focused on Kurt - until his eyes abruptly opened, locking in with mine instantly. Startled, he noticed my starstruck expression, a little grin hanging off his lips. Maybe it was out of arrogance, however I knew he wasn’t planning on taking them off soon - not that I’d be the one to complain. His eyes were bright, glimmering with happiness; filled with life and fertility as they pierced into my soul so daringly, carrying the same devilish want that Adam had been challenged with once told not to eat the apple off the tree - his mind so intrusive he was simply unable to resist. His wondrous orbs carried a hint of impish, vanity, as they were also laced with a hint of seductivity and perhaps a shed of horniness, sudden greed blistering over his ocean-like eyes; he wanted it all, in the most wicked of ways. It would be a white lie if I had said this didn’t make me feel some sort of way; had he never looked at me like that before, I might’ve said otherwise. Perhaps his sudden bursts of confidence spewing out of him made him act this way, regardless, I knew it was something real. His eyes bestowed the same hunger he had initiated into his sudden approach when asking me what I thought of the music he had written, the first time me and him truly bonded together. I seemingly was unable to detach my eyes from him, for my body, heart and mind stayed encompassed in thought of how bewildered I was; in simply over a year, I had watched him grow, become more confident, sanguine, and it was all showing off now. He was staring at me as if the world was ending, and that I was the last thing he wanted engraved in his mind, aiding him into dying in such complacency it was almost as equal as equilibrium in the world of absolute zero. “Yes I do,” I muttered, nudging the unfamiliar person whom I hadn’t even set eyes upon. Feeling his gaze burn into my cheek, I continued to focus my eyes on Kurt, my tongue licking the sides of my mouth as I figured out words to muster. “That’s my boyfriend,”