#learn how to play guitar for beginners | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reallychaoticwoo · 4 months ago

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Hi babe!! How do you think the different ateez members would be with a gf who is a single mom? Especially if a 1 y/o baby girl? I see all of them as girl dads, but truly you can choose any age or gender for the baby. Also, for obvious reasons, fem reader :). Love you 💕💕

Hello again doll 🖤🖤 Of course I am more than happy to do this as a momma myself 🖤 🎬Overview: Ateez members meeting you and your 4 year old daughter for the first time and what became of it.

‼️This is gonna have to be a two parter, so bare with me 😅😅 I may have gotten a bit carried away. I did get my sister's help with these so everyone say thank you lol 🖤🖤

❤️Pairing: individual ot8 x reader

⚠️Warnings: Probably some cussing, mentions of dead father, Wooyoung being a little shit. Let me know if I missed anything

✨️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idols in any way

🖤As always I hope you enjoy!

🧸Ateez meeting Y/N, a single mom. Part 1🧸

Part two

Hongjoong:

Walking into the music store wasn't something you expected to be doing today, but your daughter would not let up about wanting to learn to play the guitar, and she just needed to go look at some right now. So you gave in, taking her inside and looking around. You'd gotten a little distracted looking at a violin, reminiscing over when you used to play, when your daughter slipped away. Of course, she headed straight for the guitars. They were only a few feet away, and she ran straight into a man with burnt orange hair stumbling back a bit before catching herself. "Oh, uh, what are you doing in her cutie? Where's your parents?" He asked her, looking around, trying to find anyone who seemed like they were missing a child. Just that second you rounded the corner, "Oh sweetie, there you are! I told you not to leave my side." You said, looking at her sternly, before turning to look at the man, "I am so sorry about that. I looked away for two seconds." He assured you it was fine, asking your daughter why she was running to the guitars in the first place. "Oh, she wants to learn to play and insisted I bring her to look at them. I figured looking wouldn't hurt. I'd get her one, but I know absolutely nothing about guitars or where to even begin trying to find a teacher." You started rambling. He was gorgeous, and you found yourself a little embarrassed and flustered as he listened to what you were saying. He chuckled, noticing how you seemed a little overwhelmed, "I could help you find one if you'd like. I play a little, so I definitely know the best ones for beginners and more advanced options."He offered. You smiled shyly, nodding at him in thanks. Your daughter, however, had other plans, "Mommyyy, he said he plays!! He could teach me! Can the pretty man teach me, Mommy? Plleaaasseeeee??" She begged looking at you with pleading eyes. You glanced at him, a look of shock and mild panic on his face, before looking back to your daughter. "Now sweetie, I'm sure he's very busy we can't just go demanding lessons from strangers." Your daughter turned to look at him, giving him her best puppy dog eyes and lip pout to this day, "Pleaaaaseeeee will you teach me to play the guitar pretty man? Pllleeeeeaaaaassseeeeee.." She begged. He chuckled at the nickname given to him by your four year old and kneeled down to be eye level with her. "I will teach you one thing if you promise to listen to your pretty mommy and be good for her." He said, patting her head. "Okay, I'll be good!" She exclaimed, looking up at you with the biggest cheesiest grin on her face. He sat down with her and explained one of the easiest chords he knew to her, smiling brightly when she picked it up rather quickly. Heading back to you, smiling brightly, "Mommy, the pretty man taught me to play guitar!" Your daughter beamed at you. "Honey, I'm sure the pretty man has a name." You said, smiling down at her enthusiasm. "I do, it's Hongjoong." He said, looking at you with a smile. "Well, Hongjoong, thank you for taking time to teach her something. I really appreciate it. I'd love to maybe take you out to dinner sometime? As a thank you." You said smiling warmly at him. "If teaching her one chord gets me a date with her pretty mom, then she may have just found herself a teacher. He replied, handing you his phone with a cheeky wink.

Seonghwa:

Your daughter was exploring the Lego store and came across a big Star Wars set, "Mommy! Mommy! Can I get that one?? Pweeaaaseeee!?!" She asked, giving you her best puppy dog eyes and pouty lip. "Sweetheart, we can't afford that.. I'm sorry." You sighed, patting her head, "why don't we keep looking, I'm sure we'll find something." Seonghwa couldn't help but overhear and walked over. "I don't mean to intrude, but I couldn't help but overhear this sweet baby asking for that big Star Wars set. I just bought this one and realized I already have one at home. If mom doesn't mind, I'd be more than happy to give it to her." He was smiling down at your daughter before looking up at you awaiting your reply. "Are you sure? It's okay really, we were going to keep looking. Plus its a bit too advanced for her age." You replied. "More than sure, and I'm happy to help her build it. As long as that's okay with you?" He shot you a warm smile. "PLEAASSEEE MOMMYYYY can we please go build legos??" Your daughter asked, practically jumping in excitement. You looked at her and back to the man in front of you, "Okay, let's go." You said looking at your daughter fondly. "Thank you, uh.. I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?" "Seonghwa, and no need to thank me. I couldn't bare to see a little Lego lover so sad." You sat down in a seating area near the store and the two of them got to work. You'd noticed Seonghwa checking the directions pretty frequently, making you question if he actually already had the set at home, but you decided to leave it be. You were just grateful for his kindness towards your daughter. He was being so patient with her, teaching her where all the little pieces went asking her about what other kinds of toys she liked. You'd overheard him asking about you and not long after your daughter skipped up to you, "Mommy, Hwa wants to know if you'll come build legos with us?" Her big doe eyes pleading with you. "Oh, he does?" You looked at the man with a playful quirk of the brow. He just smiled back shyly. After some conversation between the three of you, Seonghwa reluctantly said he had to leave as he had somewhere to be soon. "But - but mommy, I want to show Hwa when I'm done!" Your daughter said, tears starting to well in her eyes. Seonghwa looked down at her and then to you. "I could uh, give you my number so you can text me when she's finished." He offered. "YES!! Pleaseee mommy!!" She said tugging on the bottom of your shirt. "Yes, that'd be nice. Thank you for building with her, you made her whole day." You smiled at him handing him your phone. He put his number in, "Don't thank me I enjoyed every minute of her happiness. And it was nice getting to talk to her pretty mom too."

Yunho:

It was your first weekend in months you weren't swamped with work. Deciding to take full advantage of your free time, you took your daughter to the arcade. Walking in your daughter immediately squealed in excitement, grabbing your wrist and pulling you over to the dancing games first. After several rounds and some pouting due to unperfect scores, she decided she wanted to try racing games. "Mommy, I wanna drive!" She exclaimed, pointing to one of the race car simulating games. "Baby, you're too short. You can't reach the peddles." You said, looking at her sympathetically. "But mommyy, I want to drive! It looks fun. I wanna be a big girl like mommy and drive!" She stomped her little foot, pouting. Just then, a very tall man walked up to the two of you, "I couldn't help but overhear, I could help her drive if you're comfortable with that? I think I might be tall enough, right?" He offered, directing that last sentence to your daughter, causing you both to giggle at this ridiculously tall man. "I think that would be okay.." You said, turning to look at your daughter, "what do you think, sweetie? Think he can reach?" You asked with a chuckle. "Yes, pweaseee!! Thank you, Mr. Giraffe!" She exclaimed, looking up at him with a bright smile. "Giraffe? I'm a giraffe?" He questioned, laughing at how adorable the nickname was. "I kinda like it! But, you can call me Yunho, since that's my name." He bent down, ruffling her hair, while looking up at you. "Otays, Mr giraffe Yunho! Can we go play now?" She asked, pulling on his pant leg. About 10 minutes into watching them play, hearing laughs come from your daughter you haven't heard from her since before her dad passed, you looked down at your phone and noticed it was almost time for bed. "Sweetheart, I know you're having so much fun right now, but we need to head home and get you to bed." You said softly, walking up to the game to help her down. "Nooooo, I don't want to go home. I want to stay with Yuyu!" She cried, holding onto Yunho. He pulled her back and gave her a pat on the head before setting her on the floor, "I know, and I want to play too, but you need to listen to your mommy. You gotta get some sleep so you can grow big and tall. So next time you won't need my help and you can play by yourself." She pouted, rubbing her eyes. "I don't want to play by myself anymore, I want to play with you forever!" You smiled sadly at her, knowing exactly what your daughter meant by that. Turning to Yunho, you said, "Thank you again. It's been a long time since I've seen her smile and laugh this much. She hasn't been that happy since her dad passed last year. You helping her play that game made her night and means a lot to me." Picking your pouting, sleepy daughter up to head to leave, Yunho stopped you. "I'd be more than happy to continue hanging out with the both of you, if you'd like?" He said timidly. "I, we would really like that." You replied, a fond smile on your face.

Yeosang:

You're sitting down at a restaurant with your daughter when two good-looking guys sit at the table next to you. "Look, Mommy! That guy looks like a prince!" your daughter says loudly, pointing at the blonde one. "Yes baby, he does, but you can't say that stuff so loud, and it's rude to point." You say a little embarrassed because they most definitely heard what she said given the fact the the one with black hair is giggling like a maniac "But mommy, that means he must have a castle and I wanna go!" She says, getting up and walking towards them."Excuse me Mr prince, can you take me to your castle? pwease I've always wanted to see one." She says, batting her eyelashes at the blodne haired man. You quickly follow after her. "I'm so sorry she's only 4, and she really loves fairy tales. Mostly the princes and castles." You say embarrassed. "Yeah, come on, Yeosang, show the little princess your castle," the black haired one says with a shit eating grin, causing Yeosang to look down, trying to hide his blush. "I'm not the princess," your daughter says to the black haired one. "My mommy is because princesses marry the princes, and I'm not old enough to marry anyone yet." She says matter of factly. With a little nod agreeing with her, Wooyoung replies, "You're so right, little one! So does that mean my friend, the prince here, should be courting your mommy? " He says, nudging Yeosang, who has yet to look up. Yeosang shyly looks to your daughter, "I would be horrored given that your mommy is a very beautiful princess, but I believe that princess should choose their prince." He said, sparing a shy smile towards you. "Well," you say, " I think I might be willing to give this one a chance." Both you and Yeosang are now smiling shyly at each other while Wooyoung and your daughter are sharing a victorious fist bump.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⛓️If you'd like to be tagged in part 2, please let me know!(:

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joy-of-jamming · 3 months ago

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Basic Improvisation, Pentatonic Scale, and Power Chords - Lesson 4 - Beg...

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thriftedtchotchkes · 2 years ago

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his favorite girl, part i

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel agrees to teach you how to play guitar for a college course, but you can't keep your eyes off him long enough to learn. he really likes that.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, guitar teacher!joel, no outbreak, big age gap (reader’s 22, joel’s 56), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, slight dubcon, touching, smut for later chapters, some fluff, mostly angst

word count: 3.3k

a/n: my first chaptered fic! dedicated to joel's fingers! i've been playing guitar a lot more lately so...yeah 🥲 thinking this'll probably be 3 or 4 chapters? as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated! hope y'all enjoyy

Don’t stare at his fingers. Don’t stare at his fingers. He’s doing you a huge favor by teaching you to play guitar in the first place. The least you can do is pay attention and stop staring at his fingers.

But it’s a lost cause, and you know it, because you’d have no hope of learning without staring at his fingers.

Even so, you’re convinced he’ll somehow know that’s not the real reason you’re watching them so intently. The way they hop gracefully from fret to fret, strings biting into his well-earned calluses, producing the most beautiful chords that ring out perfectly with every strum.

It’s a wonder any of that is even possible for him. You don’t mean to knock his talent—he obviously honed his craft through decades of fine-tuning and dedicated practice—but his fingers are just so thick.

With your clumsy, beginner’s touch, you’re constantly fumbling with the strings, unable to press down hard enough or keep your other fingers out of the way for them to vibrate the way they need to. They just sort of…fizzle.

But there’s a finesse to how he plays. It also helps that his guitar is a lot bigger than yours. It's a totally innocuous thought, but it still warms your cheeks a little. A big guitar for a big man. Broad and tall, with those thick, thick fingers—

“Hey, you still with me?”

You’re not sure when he stopped playing, but you really hope it was right before he said something. Otherwise, he definitely knows exactly what you were thinking about, and that would be humiliating.

Not a great start to your first guitar lesson, but how were you supposed to know your teacher was going to look like that? When your music theory professor recommended him, he conveniently left that part out, which, whatever, makes sense. But it still would’ve been helpful to know ahead of time.

Joel Miller. 56 years old. Has a ton of experience and takes on very few students, so you should consider yourself lucky. That’s all of the information you were given before you stepped into his house this afternoon, and were greeted by possibly the hottest man you’ve ever seen. He was supposed to be your ticket to an A on your senior thesis. But you’re totally flubbing it.

“Y-yeah, sorry, just got a little distracted,” you laugh awkwardly, wishing you had said anything else but that. You couldn't be any more obvious if you tried. “Won’t happen again, promise.”

He’s kind enough to pretend you’re not a filthy liar and taps the neck of his guitar to redirect your focus. “S’alright. We’ll just take it from the top. You remember the fingerin' for the first chord?”

You gape at him dumbly for a second. He’s kidding, right? You might as well leave now if he’s going to keep saying fingering with that devastating Southern drawl of his.

“Um, yeah, I think so,” you sputter, lying for the second time in a row. You're struggling to recall anything from your lesson but, god, you can only remember his fingers, not their placement. With no confidence whatsoever, you press your fingertips down firmly on the three strings you think he showed you. “Here, right?”

He quirks a brow. “You askin’ me or tellin’ me?”

Ah, so he’s that kind of teacher. The 'learn the hard way', 'fail on your own until you succeed' type. Well, he’s about to learn that you’re not that kind of student.

“…Telling?” Your voice lilts with even less confidence. He chuckles, nodding at your finger placement.

“Let’s hear it, then,” he says expectantly, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. You can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but you’re about to find out. You strum slowly, and the sound reverberates around the room.

Wrong.

His smile widens just a fraction as you grimace, quickly wrapping your hand around the neck of the guitar to stop the horrible noises still playing from it. You look over at him, wincing, but he doesn’t seem frustrated. If anything, he seems patient.

“Not quite,” he shakes his head, moving his instrument out of his lap so he can shift closer to where you’re sitting further down the couch. The cushion dips with his weight, and you tip into him slightly, but he remains completely unfazed. “Lemme show you again—and pay attention this time, alright?”

You start to nod apologetically, but then he throws an arm behind you on the back of the couch, and all hope of retaining whatever he’s about to teach you goes out the window. Instead of showing you on his own guitar, he gestures for you to hold yours up, gently arranging your fingers on the frets.

His fingertips whisper against yours like he’s hesitant to touch you, softly tugging them into place before pressing down, showing you the right amount of pressure to apply.

They feel just as warm and rough as you’d imagined, dwarfing yours by a long shot, and the realization makes your fingers accidentally twitch out of place. Your eyes dart up to gauge his reaction and lock with his, deep and brown, and very amused.

“Doin’ alright there?” he teases, and now you know he’s on to you. You try to play it off, blaming it on your inexperience.

“Just haven't gotten used to using those muscles yet," you mumble, moving your hand away from his to flex your fingers. "Not sure I've ever had to stretch them like that before."

"'m sure ya have. Probably just didn't realize it at the time. That kinda muscle soreness comes from prolonged repetition—repeatin' an action over 'n over," he explains in that syrupy-sweet accent, completely unaware of how his words are affecting you. "Bet ya use those fingers for a lot'a different things every day, just nothin' long or strenuous enough to leave you achin'."

You bite your lip to keep from reacting. He has to know what he's doing right now. How he sounds. This conversation is starting to veer into dangerous territory, but the weird thing about it is that he genuinely doesn't seem to realize that everything he's saying has a double meaning. To you, at least. You knew all this fingering talk was going to get you into trouble.

"Uhh, yeah," you agree, side-stepping that line of thought to bring yourself back to the lesson, but it's getting harder to stay focused. "I guess I just thought playing would mostly be memorization, but there's a lot of physicality to it, too, huh?"

"Yeah, s'pose that's true," he muses, looking down at the calluses on his own hand. This time you refuse to take the bait, your breathing already too shallow, heart nearly pounding out of your chest with how close he's sitting. But he’s still completely calm and collected. "Your hand hurtin' a lot right now?"

You shrug, inspecting your reddening fingertips. "Kinda, yeah."

"It's like that in the beginnin’," he says kindly. "But the more ya play, the tougher the skin gets, and ya won't feel it as much."

He surprises you by taking your hand again, massaging the tender skin between his thumb and index fingers. God, that feels so much better already. The heat of his fingertips seeps into yours, soothing the painful indents left by the unforgiving strings, and you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

You feel his entire body tense palpably next to you. It might be your imagination or just wishful thinking, but you swear you can feel his warmth radiating into your side, somehow even closer than before. Your brain’s starting to fizzle more than the sound of your shitty guitar playing, and the room feels a little hotter. Hazier, like a daydream.

"That feel good?" he murmurs, lips practically brushing the shell of your ear.

Definitely closer.

“Y-yeah, feels nice…really nice,” you stutter, voice lowering almost to a whisper as if you were sharing a secret. “The, um—the rest of my hand is a little sore, too. Is that normal?”

You can feel him grinning at your obvious attempt to get him to keep touching you, and he gives in easily. Surprisingly so, and it's becoming clearer that he's as into whatever's happening right now as you are. You’re not sure what happened to the unfazed man from before, but you’ll happily welcome this change in demeanor.

“Yeah, s’normal,” he trails down to your palm, engulfing your hand with his own. “Don’t worry, I'll take care of ya.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his thigh presses into yours, and the arm behind you lowers around your shoulders, his hand skimming the side of your neck. Shit, what is going on? You’re pretty sure guitar lessons don’t usually go like this, but you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. Not when he feels this good.

Everywhere his skin touches yours feels electric, sending jolts up your spine, and making you forget where you are and what you were doing in the first place. He ducks down to press his lips to your bare shoulder, and your mind goes completely blank.

All that's left is...sensation. Something dragging roughly across your skin, then soft—a little chapped—and wet. Sharp. You're abruptly aware of him sucking a hard bruise at the crook of your neck, soothing the sting with his tongue, and you're unable to stop the whimper that escapes your lips. It's soft and inappropriate. A single, hushed syllable.

"Joel."

He lets out a pained groan that rumbles from deep within his chest, and the hand around yours tenses. That boundless patience he had earlier feels like it's about to run out, and the thought makes your blood run hot.

God, how is he real? How is this real? You just met this man—this much, much older man—less than an hour ago, and, yet, this is probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you. He continues to mouth up your neck, nipping at the underside of your jaw.

"What else hurts? Tell me, 'n I'll make it better," he mutters humidly, urgently against your skin.

You want to tell him where it hurts the most. That unbearable ache between your legs, the burning in your belly that you didn't even realize he was stoking. But you're so wound up, all you can manage is a frustrated sob.

"Use your words, beautiful. C'mon, lemme hear 'em," he says as if you're his instrument, meant to produce dulcet tones and resonate at his hand.

"It—fuck...it—here," you drag the hand clutching yours down, next to where the body of your guitar rests on your thigh. Where you've already soaked through the thin fabric of your pants. "Joel...need you to make it better."

The gentle vibrato of your voice, the way it shakes tumultuously around his name, and even more so when he cups your heat. His lips return to your throat to feel it, to taste it as you moan for him. And those fingers. You knew they’d feel good, and they’re so close to where you need them. Just a little bit more—but there’s still too many layers between you and his rough touch.

“M-more…need more, just—,” you whine, and he mirrors the sound back at you raggedly.

“‘Course, beautiful. Told you I’d take care of ya, didn’t I?

You're too far gone to even notice yourself desperately grinding into the palm of his hand, or the fingers at your cheek turning your face toward his.

Or your guitar quickly slipping out of your lap, more and more with each swivel of your hips. It hits the carpet with a hollow clang and, suddenly, the spell is broken. Then, it all comes crashing back.

He’s saying your name, but he sounds...different. Less breathy, less needy, and more like your patient, collected guitar teacher. Joel Miller. 56 years old, remember? Way too old for you, for your body to be reacting to him like this, and the man whose help you still desperately need to help complete your thesis.

Your eyes snap open and you realize with abject horror that you’ve been daydreaming this entire time. You can’t even imagine how long he’s been trying to get your attention while you’ve just been sitting here, fantasizing about his hands on you.

Not even ten minutes ago, you promised you wouldn’t get distracted, but you did. Again. And so much worse this time.

By his furrowed brow and the way he won’t even look at you, you must have accidentally said something out loud, too. Something totally inappropriate that you really shouldn’t have. But then, his hand twitches and your blood turns to ice.

That—fuck, that's not where it was before you zoned out. It was still on yours, arranging your fingers on the frets for the chord he was teaching you. He…he was asking about your hand, if it hurt, and then—

As if you’ve been burned, you quickly release his hand from where you’re clutching it between your legs—not just in your daydream, but in horrifying actuality. You’re screwed.

Not only is he probably going to kick you out of his house and refuse to be your teacher anymore, but he’ll likely tell your professor. And he’d have every right to. There’s no way you’ll be able to get anyone else to teach you after this.

The reason you’re here, everything you’ve worked so hard for, flashes before your eyes, catching fire and turning to ash. Your love for music, your degree—in the span of a single guitar lesson, you destroyed all of it.

And what would he think? Your father, your inspiration for choosing this path. He’d be so disappointed in you, though maybe not as much as you are right now.

All of this for what? The attractive, middle-aged guitar teacher you’ve known for less than an hour? He doesn’t even want you and, even if he did, that’s not what you came here for. Stupid, stupid.

You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t bear to look at him, to say anything at all. Instead, you lean down to retrieve your guitar from where it still lies face down on the floor, and slowly stand up.

“I, uh…,” you croak out, fighting the urge to cry and look like even more of an idiot. You shake your head, unable to finish your sentence, and start to walk away, but then something miraculous happens.

Joel’s hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to keep you from leaving. You turn back to him, eyebrows raised in shock, dropping your gaze to where his skin is touching yours. He doesn't let go.

“Look—,” he starts, and you wince. It’s never a good sign when someone starts a sentence like that. If all he’s trying to do is let you down easy, he shouldn’t have stopped you. He’s just shaming you even further. “—‘m not too sure what just happened here, but if you just—if ya sit back down, we can talk about it or…just keep goin’ with the lesson…”

You didn’t see that one coming.

“You want me to stay?” you ask dubiously. “Why?”

You search his eyes for the answers to all of the things you’re not understanding, but come up with nothing. He’s sitting on the couch watching you, still holding your hand like nothing’s wrong. Acting like none of this is a big deal, as if you didn’t basically just shove his hand down your pants without his consent.

“Still got a lot to teach ya. We didn’t even get through the first line of music,” he chuckles, his voice filled with such kindness. So much more than you deserve.

“Yeah, and that’s my fault. I—,” you pause, still trying to gather your thoughts, “—I crossed a line…made you uncomfortable. You really don’t have to do this.”

He sighs, rubbing his thumb soothingly into your wrist, and the gesture makes you shiver. Somehow it’s calming, even as the gears continue to turn in your head. You still can’t seem to grasp any of this or shake the feeling that there’s something wrong with this picture.

“Well, isn’t this supposed to be a favor for some big, important grade? Don’t ya need this to pass your class?”

He’s not wrong. Without his help, you’re basically fucked for the rest of the semester.

“Yeah, I...actually really do,” you answer hesitantly.

Hope blooms in your chest. Maybe your thesis isn’t totally lost. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even be able to focus on your lessons.

“I think we can keep this professional. Don’t you?” he implores, brows raised.

He’s right again. That’s the only way this is going to work, but it’s still a reminder that he’s not interested in you in the slightest. You’re not sure why that feels so bad.

“Totally,” you breathe out, but your expression must betray your words because he rushes to reassure you.

“It’s not that I—look, I mean…you’re a beautiful girl ‘n all, but…,” he trails off, and…what?

Beautiful. He can’t have just said that out of the blue. Beautiful, of all the words he could’ve used to describe you right then. This man is driving you crazy—and he won’t stop.

“Can’t help feelin’ like maybe I gave ya the wrong impression. I took advantage of ya,” he looks away, pained, like this was all his fault. You have no idea how he came to that conclusion, but he’s got it all wrong.

“What—no. No, if anything, I took advantage of you. You were just trying to be a good teacher,” you shake your head furiously. “Look, I did this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t pull away, now, did I?”

His eyes meet yours again, darker than before, and you know for a fact you’re not making it up this time. The setting sun is casting shadows around his living room, across his 80s-style leather couch and carpet, illuminating every one of his handsome features.

And, yet, his eyes are black, endless voids that threaten to consume you. Whatever power he has over you feels dangerous. You knew you couldn’t have imagined it all.

But it's gone as quickly as it came. He clears his throat, dropping your wrist as if he finally came to his senses. Your patient, unaffected guitar teacher is back.

“I, uh, think maybe that about wraps it up for today,” he says with finality, standing up. “It's already eight, anyhow. You should head on home.”

Gently plucking the guitar from your hands, he zips it up in its case and gives it back to you. You nod, feeling grateful, but cautious...and also extremely curious. His hand finds the small of your back, leading you to the front door, and you try your best not to react as his fingers urge you forward.

You know you’ll be thinking about them later tonight, even though you really shouldn’t. About them finishing what you started earlier, taking care of you like you still want him to. Part of you hopes he’ll be thinking about yours, too.

His hand drops and he turns to you with a small smile, leaning on his arm against the doorframe.

"But, uh, same time tomorrow? And maybe put in a little practice time before then—stretch out those fingers so you're ready to play."

“Sure,” you reply breathily. “Same time tomorrow.”

thanks for reading! part ii coming soon 🥰

(p.s. how are we feeling about finger sucking...okay bye)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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butlervibesonly · 2 months ago

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𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 || Austin Butler

• Summary : Austin is playing a guitar, trying to memorize some of Elvis' songs as he's preparing for the role, and he wants his Y/n to try it, too.

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : fluff, kissing, pet names¿

The glow of the late afternoon sun streams through the windows as you sit on the couch, listening to Austin play the guitar. He's learning some new Elvis Presley songs, due to his upcoming movie, where he plays him.

He sits on the floor of your living room, and you watch his fingers stroking each string. You can't hide your admiration to his talent - sometimes you even ask; Is there something this man can't do? And the answer is = probably not.

"Austin, baby, I want to try it too," slips out from your mouth. Austin stops playing, looking at you softly with his bright blue eyes. "You do?" he grins. You nod, and watch him pat his lap, signaling you to sit down.

The acoustic guitar rests awkwardly in your lap. He’s sitting behind you, his chest pressed on your back as he's holding the guitar with you. You, unfortunately can't see it, but his grin is all lighten up, happy to teach you.

“Alright, first thing’s first,” he says, leaning forward, watching from behind your shoulder, and gently adjusting your grip on the neck of the guitar. Austin's hands are warm as they guide your fingers into position. “You’re going to press down here for a G chord. Not too hard, you don’t want to strangle it—but firm enough to get a clean sound.”

You give it a try, strumming down the strings, but the sound that comes out is far from clean. Wincing, you turned your head to see Austin's face, but instead of laughing, he just smiles. “Hey, not bad for your first try! Lemme show you again.”

Austin shifts closer, wrapping his arms around you to place your hands properly. His chin almost rests on your shoulder, his voice low and steady as he murmurs instructions. “Relax your wrist a little,” he says, and you try again. This time, the chord rings out clearer.

“There you go, love!” he cheers softly, his joy contagious. You feel a sense of pride bubble up, but it’s hard to focus on the guitar when he’s so close, his warmth and steady encouragement making you feel more at ease.

For a while, he teaches you some more chords, almost playing the whole song. Your fingers are starting to ache, you find yourself laughing more than you thought you would. Every time you miss a string, he grins and teases you gently, “It’s not the guitar’s fault, you know,"

"I know! But my fingers ache so much already!" you try to sound offended, but in playful way of course. "Honey, how do you think Elvis could handle the whole shows, playing?" Austin laugh from behind you. "He also didn't complain that it hurt, otherwise he would have thrown the guitar away!"

You laughed at Austin's teasing, nudging him softly. "Unlike me, Elvis could play it. You can't compare me as a beginner to the king of rock n roll!"

Finally, after managing a shaky but recognizable version of the intro to Can't Help Falling In Love, you lean back into him with a laugh. “Okay, I’m not terrible,” you admit, and Austin laughs with you, setting his guitar aside, wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re better than I was on my first day,” he says, shifting you even closer, taking your hands in his. His thumbs gently rub over your fingertips, reddened from pressing down on the strings. “You’re a natural. And even if you weren’t, I’d still love this—getting to teach you something I love.”

There’s an unspoken softness in his voice as he whispers into your ear. “You make everything better, you know that? Even playing guitar feels more special when it’s with you.”

You smile, feeling your cheeks turn red. You move in his lap a little, finally looking in his eyes. This close, Austin's eyes were brightly blue like clear ocean water or almost diamonds. Your sight drops from his eyes to his cherry pink, full lips. And without hesitation you press your lips against his.

He doesn't pull away. Actually, his hand travels up on the back of your head to support you, his other hand still holding yours. Deepen the kiss, you cup his cheeks, as he held you close to him

When you eventually pull away, your head rests in the crook of his neck. “Guess I’ll just have to keep practicing with you, then.” you say, smiling frantically. “Good," Austin replies, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I’m not done teaching you yet..."

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Source: YouTube

I had so much fun writing this! This idea just randomly popped in my mind and I had to bring it "alive". I mean, I would give ANYTHING for him to teach me how to play guitar, I mean LOOK AT HIM!!! 😩PS. Hope y'all liked this!

#Spotify #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fandom #austin butler x y/n #elvis movie

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punisheddonjuan · 2 days ago

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(I Will Soon Be Offering) Private Guitar Lessons

A few months ago one of my followers inquired if I had ever given thought to offering guitar lessons online via webcam. I replied that it was indeed something I had thought about but that I would need to give it more thought as to how I would approach teaching online, whether or not I had the proper equipment and software to provide a professional experience, how many students I could take on, and what exactly I could offer as a teacher. I also noted that I would have to create a suitable space in my apartment for hosting students, this part took care of itself when my roommate moved out, my girlfriend moved in and we converted his old bedroom into an office. As for the rest? Well I gave it some thought and I've hacked together reasonable solutions for most of those other issues, so I would like to announce that beginning later this winter/this spring I will be offering private one-on-one guitar lessons via webcam.

My Qualifications:

While I graduated with a degree in Classics and attended graduate school in that field, I was initially accepted into university as a music major on the basis of my guitar playing. It was only after a few years that I switched majors into Classics. In the end I still managed enough credits to claim a minor in music.

Before attending university I spent a year studying jazz theory/jazz improvisation at college.

Both prior to and concurrent with my college/university music education I studied classical guitar privately with my former guitar teacher for a little over a decade; through him I can claim teaching lineage back to Francisco Tárrega.

I have played in a few little garage bands that never really went anywhere, performed with friends at house parties, jammed around as much as I could, and performed live as a solo guitarist.

I previously taught guitar privately during university; this is not my first rodeo.

All things accounted, I have been playing guitar for near to twenty-five years.

What I Can Offer:

If you're an absolute beginner, I would be happy to guide your playing to a level where you would feel comfortable learning songs on your own, and we would start with learning basic chords, basic technique, and putting it all together into learning a few songs.

If you're past the beginner stage, I can take your playing to a level where you would be able to convincingly improvise a solo over a song, play more advanced songs, and sit in with a jam session.

If learning to read sheet music is a goal of yours' I am able to assist with that.

If you're interested in beginner classical guitar I would feel comfortable teaching repertoire and technique to the level of what is asked for by the Royal Conservatory of Music Grade Five examinations. Grade Five repertoire is generally the minimum requirement for auditioning to a university level music program in Canada. I have several guitar methods at my disposal for teaching technique, and access to a wide array of repertoire sheet music.

I am also able to teach theory as it pertains to playing the guitar and point you towards texts that from beginner levels up to basic harmonic analysis. I can teach you how chords are constructed, how they fit together into a progression, and the basic grammar of music.

What I Can't Teach:

I can't teach you to shred. Shredding has never really been my thing. Can I show you how to sweep pick? Sure. Can I teach you to play some arpeggios? Sure. Can I drill you in accurate and fast alternate picking? Absolutely. Can I show you a few weird and exotic scales? Yes. But I'm not a shred player.

I can't bring you to a level where you could effortlessly solo over the changes to "Giant Steps" or play in a Steely Dan cover band. But, I can teach you some jazz chords, I can teach you how to comp with chords and how to use guide tones, and I can teach you the basics of soloing over chord changes and what scales to use with what chords. That said, I'm not an expert jazz player, but we can still jam on some modal stuff.

Lessons, Pricing, What to Expect, What a Prospective Student Will Require:

The typical going rate for private music lessons is around $35-$40 and ranges up to well over $100 for some in demand teachers. My fee operates on a sliding scale with a floor of $20USD/$25CAD per hour lesson. If you are comfortable with paying the typical going rate, wonderful, if you are unable to afford more than $20/$25, then that's what you will pay, no questions asked. Payment can be sent through PayPal or Interac e-transfer.

Due to the nature of my chronic illness it would be extremely difficult to take on more than five students a week. They needn't necessarily be the same five students every week; if a bi-weekly lesson schedule works better for a number of people, they can alternate. In the rare event that there is more demand than I am able to fulfill mutuals and longtime followers will have priority.

What you need as a student: A guitar (reminder that these lessons, excepting students interested in the classical guitar, are geared towards the electric guitar); a webcam (I will need a way to see you, your hands, and what your hands are doing); a microphone; a way of letting me hear your playing (whether this will be through positioning your microphone in such a way that it picks up your amplifier or utilizing a direct input method); headphones would be a good idea too.

If you commit to more than one lesson the first will be free of charge. Your first lesson with me will look something like this: we'll talk about your goals and intentions i.e. what it is you hope to get out of taking guitar lessons and how far you want to take your playing. As we chat about that we can chart out a course to get you there, and then we'll just generally see where you're at. The rest of the lesson will be taken up with some pointers on properly caring for and tuning your instrument, and then we'll put some thought towards the way our bodies are posed, how we have the guitar positioned in relation to our bodies, exercising good hand ergonomics, and finding a playing position that is both comfortable and which allows for optimal freedom of movement.

I live in Toronto which is located in the Eastern Standard Timezone (UTC -5) keep this in mind if you're interested in taking lessons and are located elsewhere.

I intend to do my best at being a trooper and toughing it out, and I will aim to not cancel lessons without fair warning, but the nature of my illness virtually guarantees that I may need to resort to this occasionally. You will need to be alright with this.

If you're interested, you can contact me here or at [email protected]. Hopefully I can get enough people interested that I can go about figuring out everyone's availability and drawing up a schedule.

#blog #guitar

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