Ville Valo x Fem! Musician ! Reader
Touring for you was new, foreign. And on the debut album? You were a hit. Sure, you had anticipated packing up your belongings and going on tour with bands you saw in magazines and on TV would be intimidating. But you never thought you might intimidate said bands.
The musician who seemed to have a problem with you was ville valo. The lead singer of the band ‘His Infernal Majesty’
Truth be told, your bedroom in your apartment back home had a couple HIM posters, and you’d be lying if you said Ville himself wasn’t fucking angelic. Meeting them was scary, everyone gathering up for a sound check before the first show of the tour. And the entire time, Ville gave you this stare, cold and chilling. Green eyes pierced right through you, an awkward wave, but his eyes followed like an eerie trick painting. And he barely gave you a hello, a deep grumble, one that could be barley classified as any language. After about the third show, a couple nights of hanging out with the band you’ve grown to find some what friends in most of the band members. Yet there he was, stoic as ever, Ville Valo. Staring deep into your soul, not uttering a word. “Why don’t you kids go grab the food?” Mige blurted out, more drunk then the rest of the band. Ville got up, sharply, as did you, walking with him to the the food trucks, about two blocks away. The two of you begin walking, boots slamming onto the concrete. His body language closed off, not speaking and looking down. Yet his pupils shift to you every so often, darting back and forth more frantically as your journey progressed. And then a grunt, you could tell his voice was baritone without having heard him speak normally, though his singing practically made you ascend to the heavens. And being completely honest with yourself you did find yourself attracted to the man. His blatant dislike of you was nearing offensive, as his hair hung in front of his face, his eyeliner smudged onto his face, most likely attributed to sweat. And still, like clockwork, every 30 (give or take) seconds he stares at you. A couple times, beginning to open his mouth as if to speak, then closing immediately. As your awkward walk to a food truck goes on, you hear him speeding up, now walking directly next to you, looking at you with those green eyes.
“ The moon looks..nice tonight” he mutters, his voice so deep you swore it would make the ground shake with those simple words. Though he stayed with his head down, eyes slightly moving to you, a awaiting a response.
“ sure..It always looks pretty from where we are..” you spoke softly, enough for him to hear. But being honest with yourself, you felt a little disrespected by him. Every show he ignored you, he walked away when you started speaking, and yet he was so social. He spoke to interviewers, laughing and joked with everyone he met. But you? He’s staring at the concrete, the little yellow flowers sprouting between the cracks, like that’s so interesting. But, for him it has its perks, because you aren’t aware he’s smiling like an idiot
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