#steel guitar strings

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

The Everly Brothers - All I Have To Do Is Dream

[whosectype]

lesson learned, don’t play guitar for 9 hours straight

there are still indentations hours later on my left fingertips from the strings they look like this

[jfk-blown-away-blog]

Finally took on the daunting task of re-stringing the old Soviet. It's always a bitch to work with, but it really needed them replaced.

[phantom-does-a-thing]

getting hit with a guitar hurts like it would be a solid weapon

[crplpunkklavier]

i finished practicing guitar and now I have a sharp pain inside my fingers when I press down on things lol

yeah that'll happen bud. the calluses will come eventually but they also disappear again REAL quick if you take a break of a few days. alas being really cool always demands a sacrifice

having played piano since i was 5 has permanently changed the anatomy of my hands too (i can spread my fingers wider than most people. freakishly so), and all the passionate drummers i knew (had crushes on) had blisters and calluses on their fingers as well. that's rocknroll baby

[end-of-pizza]

Acrylic, Plastic and Steel Prototype Gibson Ultratone 7 String

[ieropski]

.

[sautethehorrors]

I had a make up lesson with the woman who owns the music school I go to and holy fuck she actually taught me how to put all the pieces together and start writing a song!!!

The biggest thing I learned was once I've got the chords in mind and have started like blahblahblahing a melody, to find a random book and turn to a random page and just start singing the words from the book.

I dunno how to explain what this unlocked in my fucking brain but holy hell, I feel like I opened a whole new section of my brain.

Anyway the country song is about a cowboy who lives in the eye of a constantly moving tornado in a howls moving castle type contraption. Yes I was really into steam punk as a teenager why do you ask

[classicjdog]

man playing guitar hero with the actual guitar controller is really really fun. no wonder that shit was so popular back in the day. in my childhood i played a decent amount of gh with a normal controller, but playing it on the guitar is definitely more fun, at least once i got used to it

wish i'd inherited my older brothers' talent for the game but twas not to be unfortunately, no 5 star through the fire and flames on expert for me lmfao but i'm still having a lot of fun doing fairly well for myself on hard and barely scraping by on expert

the 2 songs that i've replayed the most so far are hotel california & eruption. hotel california strikes a really nice balance between being really fun & engaging to play while still being totally doable even for someone with my shitty level of skill. like it's not some super easy song where you're just strumming away at the same chord progression over and over for 5 minutes, there's lots & lots of hammer-on/pull-off sequences, but those sequences are very much on the easier end of the spectrum. it is, at least so far, the only song that i've 5 starred on expert, it's really fun and obv it's a super good song too

eruption is also very very fun cause it's literally just a 2 minute guitar solo and it's REALLY HARD. it's so hard that i really shouldn't be able to do it, like it's the final song in the van halen career mode which means the game places it on that same tier of final boss-type songs as like through the fire and flames & jordan & the like, but since it's so short it's actually just barely doable for me. at least on hard, i haven't even tried it on expert lol. it's also the only song where i've successfully done that both-hands-on-the-fretboard thing that i saw my brothers do back in the day. any time it could potentially be useful i'm usually too overwhelmed by the number of notes to even think to attempt it, but i'm pretty sure eruption is specifically designed for you to have both hands up on the neck of the guitar since that's literally what eddie van halen did whenever he played the song irl, which i do think is a really nice touch

[juniesfairies]

Not to do another low hanging fruit observational tumblr post but lately I’ve been thinking about how I’m part of the population who’s missing teeth. And I weirdly get reminded of this whenever I hear other folk guitarists using their long fingernails to pick the tuned down strings with such warmth and sharpness, almost like their biting the strings. I can almost taste the metal, feel my teeth vibrate, my tongue touch the cold, but always where my missing teeth are. I hope the spirit of the teeth that were never able to grow into my mouth safely find purchase in the fingertips on my right hand, into my PIMA, into their own guitar pics. I want to devour and consume my own sounds.

[rodgerdelany]

When I was told that I would have the opportunity to perform at the Texas State Songwriters Championship, I reached out to a handful of friends for song recommendations. Every recommendation was unique. That is, no two songs were the same.

Like every other performer, I wanted to win. I kicked around a number of strategies including hiring a singer and/or leveraging the band to provide a powerful performance. But, I wanted to make a good impression representing who I am as a writer and as a performer. In the end, I decided to keep it simple – an old acoustic guitar performing “Ray of Hope” as powerful possible in order to setup the intimacy of “Alright to Love (Christmas Again).” Despite not feeling 100%, the judges awarded me a prize for “Most Original Style.”

I am glad that I chose these two songs. “Ray of Hope” has been a highlight of the band’s performance for years. And, it is likely to be the title track for my new CD. I look forward to sharing the story and a studio recording of “Ray of Hope” in 2024.

“Alright to Love” is possibly the best song that I’ve written. A competition during the Christmas season presented the perfect opportunity to perform the song and share the story. “Alright to Love (Christmas Again)” is based on a true story. The song captures two beautiful moments early in my relationship with Kim. The chorus was inspired by our first visit to the former Pierre du Pont residence at Longwood Gardens. As we walked out onto the beautifully grounds, I held Kim’s hand and said, “It’s alright to love Christmas.” The line, “she dressed as Santa and danced by the fire,” is from our first Christmas together.

I am including a link in the comments to the version of “Alright to Love (Christmas Again)” that was recorded in at Philly Sound Studios by Rich King and included Mark Rogers’ WSTW holiday compilation (see photo).

Thanks again for all of the encouragement and support both with music and through many challenging times in my life. As I’ve shared previously, it is increasingly difficult to remember when I was miserable. I am blessed to share life’s adventures with the love of my life.

I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a great new year!!

[abandoned-as-mustard]

Fun habits ukulele playing gives you: automatically strumming a guitar over the fretboard like. Discovering eerie harmonics.

[mixsethaddams]

Eddie forgets it’s Valentine’s Day until the literal moment he pulls into the parking lot outside of Steve’s job to pick him up after his shift. The big banner in the window offering their February 14th special offers nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.

It was too late now to flip it into reverse and speed to the nearest garage and buy the first box of candy he could find; Steve had spotted him through the window and was already waving at him. Eddie usually arrived a few minutes early but he got caught up staring through the window at the music store downtown. There was an acoustic guitar he was saving up for on display. It would take him almost a year to get there on his current budget, but he was determined. Now that Eddie thought about it, there was definitely some pink ribbon hanging in that window today. He cursed himself again, realising he must’ve seen a million other literal red flags throughout the day that he’d ignored.

“Think, Munson, think….” Eddie grumbled to himself, wringing his hands around the steering wheel with white knuckles.

Steve was walking towards the van now, and the small red gift bag in his hand killed any hope Eddie might have had that he’d forgotten too.

“Happy Valentine’s, Eds,” said Steve brightly as he hopped into the passenger seat, handing over the bag.

Eddie looked into it and found an assortment of a few of his favourite things. A heavy metal magazine, red twizzlers, a pack of smokes, even some new guitar strings. Ah shit, this was perfect. Eddie felt like hell.

“You don’t have the right guitar for those yet though,” Steve pointed out and sure enough, on closer inspection they were nylon acoustic strings and not the steel kind Eddie used for his electric guitar.

“That’s ok it’s not- Wait, yet?” asked Eddie.

Steve looked giddy as he handed over a piece of paper. It was a receipt of sale and Eddie gawped at it in silence for almost a full five minutes. Steve bought him the guitar he’s been staring at in the window. The note on the bottom said he could pick it up tomorrow.

“This is for-”

“Sure is”

“-that I’ve wanted for months-”

“Sure have”

“-is this for real?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yes Eddie it’s for real,” said Steve with a sigh. “You’ve been talking about that thing in your sleep, figured this might make you shut up about it,”

“I will never shut up about this,” said Eddie, still staring at the receipt.

Another moment passed and Steve very politely and gently cleared his throat. Eddie snapped back to reality. Steve’s eyes went wide as Eddie kicked into action. He pulled his jacket off his shoulders and threw it at him. He reached down and tugged his shoes off, threw them at Steve too. All the rings on his hands came next, then his belt, and the keys for the van hit Steve squarely in the chest with a light thud.

“Take it,” he mumbled, adding his socks to the growing pile on Steve’s lap. “All of it,”

Steve let out a confused laugh.

“Eddie what the hell are you doing?” he asked, incredulous.

“You can have the trailer too,” said Eddie, fishing candy wrappers from his pockets and deciding if they were Steve worthy. “Wayne will understand,”

Steve laughed properly now.

“What are you talking about, baby?”

“This!” shrieked Eddie, now halfway out of his t-shirt, waving around the receipt for the guitar. “I can’t compete with this! I can’t give you anything like this, so just-” Eddie’s voice got muffled as his shirt got stuck over his head. “-take everything,”

He flung the piece of clothing and Steve’s head and started to unzip his jeans.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” said Steve, shaking with laughter now as he grabbed Eddie’s wrist. “Put your clothes back on, this isn’t a competition,”

“You’re only saying that because you won,” said Eddie with narrowed eyes.

Steve began to hand Eddie back all the things that had been hurled at him over the last frantic few minutes.

“I don’t need anything from you,” said Steve softly. “Especially not week-old candy wrappers,”

Eddie snatched back his socks.

“I don’t….” He said, embarrassed. “I don’t have anything though…”

Steve chuckled.

“So you can buy me dinner instead,” he told Eddie, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. “Now hurry up and take the rest of your shit back so you can bring me home,”

Eddie nodded solemnly and took each item back as it was given to him. He slipped his t shirt back over his head and when he looked at Steve for the last of his rings, he was holding Eddie’s favourite skull ring between his fingers. It was the only one that was big enough to fit Steve. A plan formed quickly, so organically that Eddie was shocked it hadn’t occurred to him before right now. It…was perfect honestly. It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it before, it just never felt like a good time and… Oh yeah, this was definitely the excuse he needed to just do it

“How ‘bout you keep that one, at least?” suggested Eddie. “Make me feel like I’m not a total failure today,”

“You’re not a failure,” said Steve, rolling his eyes again. “But fine, yes, I’m keeping this one,”

Eddie smiled and held out his hand to take one of Steve’s.

“Well then allow me,” he said, taking the ring. Steve offered up his right hand, and Eddie promptly swatted it away. “Other one,”

Steve’s eyebrow raised higher as he hesitantly gave Eddie his left hand.

“Seriously?” asked Steve, suspicious and amused.

“Unless you’d prefer the right hand?”

“No, no, left works,” said Steve quickly, taking his hand back to wipe off any sweat onto his jeans.

Steve shook out his hand and quickly smoothed down his hair. He plucked a stray starburst wrapper from his shoulder and flicked it to the ground. He settled himself comfortably facing Eddie and placed his left hand in Eddie’s waiting palm.

Eddie slotted the ring onto Steve’s third finger and gave it a little pat once it rested snugly against his knuckle, before bringing it up to his mouth and kissing it. A tiny squeak escaped Steve’s mouth.

“How’s that?” asked Eddie with a smile.

“Just what I wanted,” said Steve, looking like he was on cloud nine, and leaning over to kiss him.

[risuola]

▶ EARLY MORNINGS AND STOLEN CUPS — nothing better than the first cup of coffee in the morning.

contents: college+roommates!au, smoking implied (like once), teeth rotting fluff — wc. 572

a/n: i can't tell you guys how much i love fluffs with this trio. i like how the dynamics are building and i think you guys enjoy it too (i hope so!) — anyway, very short entry but love medley is all about those after all!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

Satoru doesn’t drink coffee.

Most days in your little apartment began with the low, monotone whooshing of coffee machine. Harsh rumble of beans being grinded accompany you and Gojo in the bathroom and while you both push through brushing teeth and mandatory eyedrops, Suguru usually was already in the kitchen, brewing the god’s nectar.

You joined the brunette, tempted by the gurgling bubbles and divine aroma mingling with the fresh air and a ghost of herbal, woody scent of whatever Geto was smoking just moments ago. He greeted you with a smile, playing with the rim of an empty cup — his fingers followed the curved ceramic edge and you knew he was as impatient as you were, as eager to dip his mouth into the brown wake-up liquid and feel the first dose of caffeine fill in his system.

And so, he pulled the jug from underneath the working mechanism, hot drops of coffee sizzled as they met the steel drip tray, but the cup was soon filled and before you knew it, Suguru let out a deep sigh of ecstatic relief. First few sips were his — black and bitter — and he made place in the cup for your milk.

You took out some plates — an act of pretending, a distraction for yourself to not eye the precious coffee like an animal would eye its prey.

Then, he gave it to you and your grabby hands enveloped the cup as he reached into the fridge for the carton of milk. As he poured it in, you inhaled the addicting aroma, watching how the dark, nearly black liquid turned into more luscious, creamier nectar in a light brown color and you too sighed deeply when dipping your lips into it.

You felt the heat spreading across your system and you disconnected for a moment, allowing yourself to feel it, to enjoy it while Suguru engaged in the talk with Satoru. The chattering that for a moment turned into background to your experience, soon pulled you in and before you knew it, you were talking too — a routine of babbling before the day fully starts, one that you enjoyed equally as much as late evenings.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and quiet hum filled in your ears. Satoru’s light, fluffy hair tickled the side of your neck as he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder — a habit of him, whenever he was still too sleepy to function properly. You put down the cup and reached up to run your fingers through the snowy locks, earning yourself a low purr that vibrated through the bone of your shoulder.

Engulfed in the story about new guitar strings and stolen picks, you absorbed the passion in Suguru’s voice and didn’t realize a sequence of mischief that was happening right under your nose.

And then, Satoru was leaving towards the living room, a cup half-full of your coffee in his hand as he sing-sang something about nail polish and sunglasses. You looked after him and then at the counter, where a bottle of sugary syrup in the flavor of caramel stood proudly — evidence of severe addiction and theft.

You let out a chuckle and Suguru echoed, reaching up the cabinet for another mug. He continued his story as the coffee machine brewed the dark beverage so that both you and him can enjoy it fully.

Yes, Satoru doesn’t drink coffee.

Unless it’s yours.

taglist: @kibananya @r0ckst4rjk @rixo-19 @soraya-daydreams @hyun0200 @ilykii @roscpctals99 @mushkasstuff @siimp4youu @juicedcherry @themoreeviltwin @stevenknightmarc @ms5m1th @local-mr-frog

[roronoaswifey]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐀𝐂𝐄…

pairing. portgas d. ace x f!reader

warnings/tags. explicit content, alcohol consumption, substance consumption, mentions of past cocaine consumption, sex under the influence, mentions of groupies, dubious snap of reader’s facial, ace has tattoos and a tongue piercing, and reader has nipple and belly piercings.

kazu’s note. i’ve been on guitartok for months now. sorry but i’m definitely projecting here 👁️‍🗨️

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐀𝐂𝐄…

who’s been trying for months to get you to come to at least one of his gigs. he sees you around quite often since you’re good friends with his younger brother, and figures it’s a good enough excuse to get you to see him in his element. but whenever he tries to corner you in the kitchen and shoot you an invitation, you always turn him down with a gentle shove as you make your way around him, claiming rock music simply isn’t your style.

who’s determined to make rock music your style. on days where he isn’t seen performing in front of crowds, he’s back home with his brothers, where he knows you’ll eventually be. with his electric guitar set in place and firm in his grasp, his fingers drum at the strings as the chords flow into a riffing melody. he works and practices really hard into his music, so the thin layer of sweat coating his inked chiseled body is nothing unexpected. though, what does seem to catch him a little off guard is seeing your figure leaning back against his bedroom door, closing the wooden piece behind you, arms crossed over your chest with your cup of coffee resting at your lips. your eyes tell a tale; you’re interested, and he’s all in for it.

who after a series of brutal and long months, finally manages to get you to see him perform. he’s more pumped than usually, his band mates notice, as he pregames with lots of tequila shots. he ignores the looks he gets from his stylist, focusing on the way he’s going to need his wavy hair tied back into a bun if he’s going to end this night with what he’s wanted with you for the longest. he can only smirk, the bitter taste of booze lingering on his tastebuds, setting his body ablaze in major contrast to the cool feel of the ball of steel pierced through his tongue.

who gives it his all the second he shows up on that stage. the adrenaline running mixed with the shots he took earlier has him feeling on edge, calloused fingers expertly drumming at chords as he sings through the mic, his voice roaring into the stadium. through the immense crowd, he spots you in the middle of his younger brother and friends. dressed in a skimpy black outfit, a smirk is pulled onto your lips as you bob your head to the rhythm. it’s a tune you’ve heard him practice before, so surely it stuck to you, but seeing you in person right before him made his blood run a mile a second, and god he wanted to take you backstage and make a mess out of you.

though the performance is over and he’s greeting fans and groupies, he’s now got his wife beater on with some grey sweats. he’s usually thrilled to meet his supporters, but his mind is entirely consummated by you. he wants you wrapping your arms around his neck, snuggling your soft breast into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist as you giggle and congratulate him on his show. he could care less about the groupies that always come to see him, and he’s far less interested in getting their pussies in favour of yours. he even decides to refuse the mini plastic cocaine bag he’s usually quick to snatch, since he had absolutely no business entertaining them, when he only wanted you.

rolling up papers into blunts after his gigs, slightly drained from hours of performing despite the buzz mowing at his brain. he’s finally backstage, bringing the blunt up to his mouth to lick at the paper when you show up amongst your friends, congratulating him for his outstanding performance. he knows this all, though he still thanks their support, but most of all he wants to hear it from you, wants to know what you have to say since this was your very first experience after all.

watches as you walk up to him, breast spilling in your tight top, leaning forward to snatch the rolled up spliff and placing it between your lips. you grab a lighter from your cleavage, spark it up and blow the smoke in his stunned face. “not bad.” you chuckle with low lidded eyes, before placing the blunt back into his parted mouth. your friends are long distracted, busy bothering his other bandmates, but ace couldn’t be bothered enough to care about them. not when he feels the sudden urge to pull you onto his lap, to feel the heat of the warmth of your legs straddling over him, and grab a strong hold onto your ass beneath your taunting miniskirt. the sloppy kiss he receives in consequence to his actions aren’t unexpected.

who feels his pants tightening painfully hard at the sounds you make when his jewelled fingers come to wrap around your throat, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth from the ball of steel in his tongue clashing with the roof of your mouth. he can taste the casamigos in the warm cavern, figured he shouldn’t be too surprised since he himself is quite buzzed, but wishes everyone would fuck the hell off somewhere and let him get what he’s wanted forever.

who puts you in every fucking position. from your sweaty bodies grinding into one another on the couch, to having you pressed up against the wall and pounding into your tight cunt, to have you bent over his vanity and watching from the reflection of the mirror as he pounds into you, teeth nipping at your neck. you fuck like wild animals, the bottle of tequila uncapped by his fangs and poured into your open mouth as you moan at the alcoholic taste. once he’s assured you’ve got a good fill, he’ll poor the rest of the contents on your sinful ass, watching the liquid lubricate your ass cheeks, the recoil from the forced point of contact between both your bodies only amplifying as tequila splashed between you both. the whine you let out when a rough hand comes to slap your slippery ass cheeks is incomparable to any tune he’s ever heard.

who has you pushed up against the wall, legs wrapped around his neck and rested onto his shoulders, as he eats you out like his life depended on it. you tasted so fucking good, more intoxicating than any booze he’s had in his life, and the way your acrylics run deep into his scalp tugging so harshly onto his hair as you moan and whine for more, messing up his bun and watching as the locks fall out of place. his tongue drags up and down your lips, mouth salivating as his spit drools past his lips and past your pussy onto the floor, sloppily getting his worth of fill, grinding his erection into the wall as he awaits on his sweet reward that’s bound to splurt on his face if he nibbles at your clit— “just like that.” spraying him in the face with your essence.

who pulls out his phone with a deep groan and snaps a picture with the flash on of your cum covered face, sat on your knees with his dick tapped against your pink tongue, the wet muscle wrapped all over his tip as you milk him of his worth. the pearly white droplets may have ruined your makeup entirely, but ace isn’t sure he’s seen a prettier sight than this. you, allowing him to finish his load onto your skin, in which he can’t help but stretch an arm and smear his nut on your face with his thumb, to which you so gracefully slip in the digit in your mouth and moan, which definitely hardens his dick back into place.

who’s seated on the couch, blunt pressed at his lips as he watches you bounce up and down his cock, riding and milking him for what he’s worth. he’s already on edge, can barely stand the sight of your pierced nipples bouncing in sync at your hips’ movements, so he distracts himself by bringing his mout around a bud and his large hand cups the other mound. he moans against the jewel, his own tongue piercing clashing against the pretty heart shaped diamond and his silver ring brushing against your other hardened nipple. the blunt now in your mouth, you grind back and forth as you let the ecstasy ripple through your body, smoke filling in your lungs and clouding your mind, your clit bumping against his pelvis when you lean down at a specific angle.

definitely places a drumstick into your mouth, to gag you up as he fucks into you. he doesn’t want to muffle your beautiful sounds, he honestly doesn’t care if the whole audience hears the way you crumble on his dick. he just can’t help the way he feels waves of arousal ripple through his limbs all liquidy hot, when he seems the dazed look in your eyes, jerking up from each intense snap of his hips rutting into you. your knees touch your ears, your anklet chiming right at his own ear, as he presses a kiss into your ankle. in consequence, he decides with a jewelled hand wrapped around your neck, a new angle in his rough thrusts, that he’s going to record your fucking moans one day and put it as adlibs in a track.

who pulls out and watches as his cum trickles down your fucked out pussy, staining his couch white of evidence. with two fingers, he grabs the sticky substance and shoves it back into you, eyes nearly rolling back at the broken cry you let out, body all sensitive from back to back orgasms. still, he has a mind of his own and very selfish desires, and simply cannot let you go after tonight. you’ve given him a teasing taste, and he knows he’ll be back for more.

who reaches to grab your phone and unlocks it with your face id, before punching his own number in it and ringing himself. he needs you to come back after this, he’s not sure how he’s managed to survive without you here with him this entire time, but it’s never too late to try. he wants you seated in vip, supporting him and filming him up on stage as he finally has the heart to sing the songs he’s dedicated for you, and to be able to carry you into his backstage room and fuck you yet again endlessly. yeah, sounds like a dream but as for now, he’s good with resting his head onto your chest and listening to your steady heartbeat as it lulls you both into sleep.

bonus point++ definitely gives you an personally signed autograph of his name in black permanent sharpie right above your pussy and below your pierced navel, marking your gaping cunt as his forever and always.

ignore how i barely talk abt him being a rockstar and i mainly just wanted to write smut for ace <3

[i-am-baechu]

⋆｡°✩♬ ♪ My Melody ⁞ M. Yoongi

𝄞₊ ⊹ Summary: “A piano or guitar couldn’t explain how much I love you...”

𝄞₊ ⊹ Pairing: Established relationship; Yoongi x Deaf! Reader 

𝄞₊ ⊹ Rating: Pg - 14 

𝄞₊ ⊹ Genre: Little angst, fluff and romance 

𝄞₊ ⊹ Playlist: If Not For You - Maneskin 

Ivory keys that can tell a story and steel strings that complete it. That’s how Y/N described her relationship with Yoongi. A sweet and slow song. An easy song to dance to even to those that can’t dance. Two different lives that on paper, doesn’t make sense to be together but in their music, nothing else mattered. Yoongi came into her as loud as the echoes in an empty hall.

She finished writing her song when the door opened. She slowly looked up and her eyes met dark brown eyes that held kindness in them. She looked around the room and then back at her sheet music. She was writing away when she heard a guitar playing a sweet melody. She dropped her pen and turned towards the song, it was as if it was calling for her. She slowly walked towards him and continued to listen. 

“I like your playing.” 

Yoongi stopped mid-note and looked up to see her curious eyes. He glanced down at his guitar and let out a small cough, “Thanks...I heard you playing. I thought this would go well with it.”

Y/N turned around and grabbed her sheet music in excitement. She pulled up a chair to sit next to him with an excited smile, “You think so?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her excitement, “Want to try it?”

“I would love to...”

When she found out that he was famous, a whole new world was born. She didn’t care who he was. To the world he was Suga but to her...to her, he was Min Yoongi. The soft man who built her the nightstand when she was in need of one and the man who was with her from the very beginning. 

“Yoongi, I told you I was fine.”

He crossed his arms and closed the studio door with a frown. He turned towards her and sighed, “I don’t think so. You can’t hear when Hoseok is calling for you. I’m worried.”

Y/N looked away and frowned, “I have a check-up in the morning...you can come and tell them.” 

“Y/N, you-”

“I can’t ask them...I can’t.” 

Yoongi nodded his head and sat next to her. He placed his hand on her knee and she looked at him with a sad look, “I’ll get my shoulder looked at too...would that make you feel better?” 

She let out a small laugh and leaned into him. Her head on “his good shoulder” (something he called it), “We’re both messed up.” 

“Yeah that asshole hit us both-”

“Yoongi....” 

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her knee, “I know...I know.” 

“Mrs. L/N, you're losing your hearing.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened at this and turned towards Yoongi, “What?” 

Yoongi frowned at this, “Babe, you’re losing your hearing.” 

Y/N’s mouth dropped and turned towards the doctor, “How?”

“When you hit your head from the car accident. I’m estimating that in a year, you’ll be deaf.” 

That’s when her life was restarted. She slowly couldn’t hear the melodies that Yoongi made in his studio or him rapping away with pure passion. She could hear small sounds but not the full sounds. It was heartbreaking for her in the beginning. The piano that Yoongi gifted her collected dust as she covered it with a white sheet. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped her play. 

It was their sixth anniversary and Yoongi had an idea. Y/N entered the room to see him with a guitar and she raised her eyebrow. She shook her head and sat in front of him with a frown. She signed to him as he watched with knowing eyes, “I can’t hear.” 

He gave her a small smile and nodded his head, “I know but...I bought this speaker so you can feel the vibrations.” 

She tilted her head at the special set up behind him and back at him, “An electric piano?”

Yoongi nodded his head in excitement, “I had the guy make sure that it was loud enough for you to feel the vibration.” 

A small tear escaped her eye and she watched him finish signing the last word. Her heart felt whole and she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She jumped into his arms and he sat there with a shocked look for a second but then he brought her closer. This was the moment she knew Yoongi was the one for her. True love like this was hard to find. This is what she wanted when she was a little girl. 

She stood in front of him in her white gown and at this moment, all she saw was him. Yoongi looked her up and down with pure love in his eyes. She was dressed in delicate lace and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead making the crowd laugh. He turned towards them and shrugged his shoulders, “I couldn’t help myself.” 

Yoongi took a deep breath and started signing his vows to her as she watched with tears ready to escape, “There’ll be no summer. There'll be no spring, if not for this love of mine. If not for you, I wouldn’t sing anymore. My melody on days that feel so dark. All those crowds and all the music would just fade out if you were gone. You took me out of my hell and you gave me heaven. Y/N, a piano or guitar couldn’t explain how much I love you but I hope my actions do. I can’t wait to be your husband and I want to experience everything with you. I love you so much, my melody.”