He fell first and she fell, literally.
Not all love stories start with starry eyes, sometimes they begin with broken hearts or dented guitars...
Juice Wrld x Reader
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The stage shown brightly, illuminated by colorful spotlights, stretched out to the screaming crowd in inky blackness. Smoke filled the center and confetti cannons rained throughout the building, booming and crackling with each sound. How the stadium was so packed truly baffled everyone there that night, but it was little to be done considering those were simply too high in joy to care– that and they paid good money for those tickets.
Music amped, civilians sang before the musician could be seen striding across the stage, almost appearing in awkwardness. Though if that were the case many fans didn't notice because they were astounded by her voice. A pure replication of suave base being tuned out by the gentle sound of what could only be described as a drowning guitar. Her voice was a melody of heaven, gracefully slitting the atmosphere with little effort.
'I saw fireflies like deer seeing headlights.' She hummed, before fully stepping into the frame of lighting.
The young artists' attire was intriguing, some may have thought it was inspired by Marshmellow or an insult, but others could only begin to scream the lyrics louder; wondering how someone accumulated such an enormous amount of fame in such little time.
Now while she was not exactly dressed as the aforementioned celebrity, she was best described as a mine. Or more so in the bearings of one. Her face was completely painted, leaving only the braids of her hair shown and as for the woman's clothes, they appeared to be streetwear. It should have been concerning for whoever her makeup artist was, but because of how well she pulled everything together, fans couldn't be distracted by such assumptions.
'They say demons are a disgrace, but at least they ain't wearing a disguise.' She paused, waiting just before the beat dropped and the audience screamed the next set of lyrics.
It was truly like anything unimaged, of all things to have occurred the moment felt surreal. The echo of the woman's voice bouncing back to her from the thousands of people singing with her was absolutely phenomenal. Suddenly the music cut out and her guitarist was left without any audible instruments to occupy because the equipment had burnt out.
With her being new to the industry and not knowing how to react, she came to a mumble, testing to see if the mic was on; and to her dismay it was not. It was quiet for a moment, the fans, chatting amongst themselves in panic. So she did the only thing that appealed to be plausible to her: made a joke. The power in her voice reached the first few rows of the crowd, making some laugh and others confused.
She looked around worriedly, ensuring it was just a power dysfunction and not a potential bombing that could occur– not that she would truly know if something did happen.
Running across the stage, she grabbed her guitar (the same guitar she had an epiphany with), and began to strum, silencing the crowd to a muted haze.
'Reversing tiles, you know you should be serving trials.' She laughed, taking a breath and smiling underneath the dimly lit spotlight.
"-- I wanna serve you instead!" A fan shouted, which could barely be heard over the others.
