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taetaesbaebaepsae · 3 years

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Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes.

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven.

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something.

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless.

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating.

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated.

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?”

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances.

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals.

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.”

He huffs a little.

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead.

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge.

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates.

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well.

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human.

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!"

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes.

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head.

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.”

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now.

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open.

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut.

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.”

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #werewolf!jungkook #bts werewolf au #jungkook imagine #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanheadquarters #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

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beom1e · 3 years

Text

PINK GUITAR

nobody had ever really noticed you before. you spent your entire life blending in with the crowd, despite dedicating your entire life to becoming a singer on stage. you’d always felt so unimportant and uninteresting. but to him, you were the bright splash of colour in a grey world.

PAIRING park jongseong x fem! reader

THEMES bassist! jay, vocalist! reader, fluff, highschool au

WARNINGS very light sex references

the energy of the club whenever a band was performing was your favourite. everybody was dancing and singing along to what they knew, using those few hours to push away all of their responsibilities and just relax. for many years, you had witnessed it from the crowd with a yearning to be up there creating that energy yourself.

having taken up guitar lessons at a young age with an innate desire to perform, you knew that one day you’d get the chance. or, at least you thought you would. auditioning for a highschool band seemed like an ingenious idea at the time, until you got the part as sub vocalist. the girl that had taken your place as lead vocalist happened to be sleeping with the band’s leader... and the rest was history.

but the lost opportunity wasn’t going to get you down. especially not as you were standing in that very same club, sipping on your drink and eyeing the competition on stage.

said competition was the small group that had taken over the school with their good looks and musical talent. there was heeseung as the lead vocalist, a sweet boy who had already graduated. then there was sunghoon, the lead guitarist that had every girl and guy alike in the palm of his hand. and jake, he was the drummer but spent most of his time trying to be the top of the class and flirting with his fangirls. finally there was jay, the bassist. you didn’t know much about him, just that he seemed very chilled out and insanely popular for that reason specifically.

something about jay always had you wondering, though. he’d meet your gaze as you were sipping from your drink, keeping his eyes on you. it made you feel seen, and you felt stupid for feeling that way. in what world would jay park be interested in you?

as the last song came to a end, you turned back and made your way through the crowd. there your own bandmates were, chatting amongst themselves.

being in their band was a temporary fix. you weren’t their friend, nor were you a necessary member of the band. although you could easily be traded out for someone else, you really didn’t mind. at least you had the opportunity to be on stage, even if it was out of the spotlight.

‘we should head backstage,’ you reminded your lead vocalist before stepping away from them. making your way through the staff only door and heading up the steps, you came face to face with jay.

‘hey, y/n,’ he greeted with a smile, moving out of the way so that you could get past him. you mumbled a quick thank you before fleeing the scene and finding your guitar. jake and sunghoon passed by you as well, talking loudly about something. and then heeseung, who smiled at you before following the rest of the boys onto the floor of the club.

your own band finally showed up as you were checking the tuning of your guitar. the four of you made your way onto the stage, the lead vocalist getting right into greeting everyone.

it was routine. you started the song off with the strum of your electric guitar, and the energy began to pick up. the lead vocalist sang, the drummer played the drums, and the bassist played his bass guitar. you had small singing parts, usually as the backup for your lead, but it was enough for now.

jay was watching your every move. from your black painted nails to the pick between your lips to the way you gripped the microphone and sang so beautifully. his favourite thing was your baby pink electric guitar, perfectly preserved and a huge contrast to the outfits you wore on stage. he was completely mesmerised by you, but you didn’t have a clue.

singing was your first love. you loved the rush of playing a guitar solo, but nothing felt better than expressing your emotions through your voice and lyrics. so every friday, as students began flooding out of the school gates, you headed to the music classroom for practice.

your piano skills were rusty, but you took a seat at the instrument anyway. although, there was one tune you would never be able to forget, which happened to be a song you’d written. your purpose in the band wasn’t to write music, so you’d never mentioned it to your bandmates.

as your fingers ran delicately against the keys, you began to hum. jay came to a stop outside of the classroom at the sound of your playing.

when you began to sing your lyrics, he felt himself mindlessly smiling. he always thought you had a better voice than your lead singer, and was confused as to why you were made sub vocalist. it seemed like you were overflowing with musical ability, and deserved a better place in your band.

‘that’s a pretty song,’ he stepped inside, making you jump. there was a horrible clash of piano keys coming together to make an awful sound that made you both cringe. ‘sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘it’s fine,’ you turned around on the piano bench to face him. ‘how long have you been there?’

‘just since you started singing,’ he shrugged, but you felt your eyes go wide. nobody had ever heard your song before, so you couldn’t believe the first person to hear it was jay park. ‘oh... i’m sorry for invading your privacy. i just came here to pick up my guitar.’

‘seriously, it’s fine, jay,’ you reassured with a smile, watching him reach for his guitar. ‘but maybe knock next time so that i don’t almost have a heart attack.’

he laughed shortly at your words. as he was about to leave, he turned back around to face you. ‘you have a really beautiful singing voice,’ your cheeks began to heat up. ‘you know, heeseung has been considering leaving the band since he’s no longer a highschool student. so if you ever wanted to practice as a lead vocalist, the place is up for grabs.’

‘i think i’d like that,’ jay couldn’t help but smile at your words. ‘do you want my number so we can arrange a session together?’

sunghoon and jake were tired of hearing jay go on and on about you. he’d been jumpy all day waiting for you to show up, so much so that heeseung felt himself getting dizzy.

when you did arrive, everybody already looked exhausted. it reminded you a lot of your own band practices, since everybody in your band was always so dull and boring.

‘y/n!’ heeseung called happily, dropping down from a barstool to greet you. ‘finally, you’re here.’

‘did i keep you all waiting long...?’ you awkwardly looked around the room. but nobody seemed too annoyed, so you were sure you were off the hook.

‘no,’ sunghoon started. ‘just jay—’ jake reached to cover sunghoon’s mouth, cutting him off.

‘let’s get you set up,’ heeseung suggested, gesturing towards the stage. you followed him up, the other three boys finding their instruments. ‘just choose a song you want to try and they’ll start.’

he jumped back down from the stage to sit back on his bar stool. at first you felt awkward, standing up in front of the band’s current lead vocalist. it didn’t help that you couldn’t see the three boys behind you.

but after a while, you started to feel more comfortable. and it was fun, taking control of the songs with your vocals. every couple of songs, you’d take a snack or drink break and sit around on the stage with the boys, just chatting amongst yourselves. jay was unusually quiet, watching you laugh with his friends from the sidelines. it wasn’t jealousy, he just liked seeing you happy and carefree.

after the session was over, you packed up your pink guitar and said goodbye to the boys. jay followed you out, catching your wrist to spin you around.

‘you’re amazing, y/n,’ he spoke, holding back a smile. ‘i’m not going to force you to leave your own band, but i want you to know the position is being offered to you. so think about it, please?’

‘i will,’ you nodded, beaming with pride. ‘thank you for today, jay. i’ll see you on monday.’

you were sitting with your back against the tree, snack in one hand and a book in the other. considering it was a sunny day, you thought it was a great idea. well, you were wrong.

‘enjoying that, y/n?’ you lowered the book to see your lead singer standing in front of you. ‘i just came to see if the rumours were true.’

‘what rumours?’ you closed your book, setting it down beside yourself. she was standing with her arms crossed, an annoyed look on her face.

‘just that you’re the new lead singer for jay and his little buddies,’ the tone of her voice was mocking. a smirk was on her lips, as if this whole thing was nothing more than a joke to her.

‘well, they’re not true,’ you defended. ‘heeseung is leaving and jay asked me to practice with them. he said he really likes my singing voice and that they’ve been wanting a female touch to the band.’

‘well, they’re kind of true,’ she squinted her eyes, staring down at you. ‘if you want to fraternise with the enemy, then go ahead. but you’re out of our band, and we won’t be taking you back.’

‘fine by me,’ you stood, slipping your bag onto your shoulder. ‘good luck sleeping your way to the top, we all know that’s the only reason you got lead singer.’

as you tried to walk away, she just kept going on. ‘do you really think i’m that stupid, y/n? the only reason jay is offering you a place in their band is because he’s hoping to sleep with you.’

‘unbelievable,’ you turned back around. ‘can you just drop it? i really don’t care for your opinion.’

‘not an opinion, y/n,’ she stepped forward, a smug smile on her face. ‘just a fact.’ shoving past you, she disappeared inside of the building.

there was a knock on the door and you looked up from your lyric book. ‘hey,’ jay greeted, letting himself into the music classroom. ‘i heard what happened.’

‘hi, jay,’ you smiled weakly. ‘yeah, it was pretty bad... but please don’t pity invite me into your band.’

‘can i sit here?’ he gestured towards the piano bench you were occupying. you nodded, sliding over a bit to give him more room. ‘i’m not pity inviting you. with heeseung leaving, we need a talented vocalist to take his place. i’ve seen you sing and perform, and i just genuinely think you’re an amazing artist.’

‘thanks,’ you bit back your smile, looking off to the side. ‘that means a lot. but i do have one question.’

‘i’m sure i have an answer,’ jay shrugged.

‘please bare in mind that i really don’t see you as the type to do this,’ your words made him tense up. what could you possibly need to ask? ‘but ever since she mentioned it, i couldn’t stop thinking about it. you’re not asking me just because you want to sleep with me, are you?’

‘no,’ his answer came quick. he didn’t want you to see him as that type. ‘i can’t say that i don’t have feelings for you, but i wasn’t looking to pursue you. i’m sensible, keeping work and play separate.’

‘work and play?’ you laughed, resting your hand on his arm for support. ‘work hard, play hard type of guy? not very surprising.’

‘nah, that’s jake,’ he laughed along with you, eyes moving down to where your hand was. feeling awkward, you removed your hand and cleared your throat. ‘but seriously, the spot is yours. i’d love to see you up there thriving on stage.’

he stood from the bench, sending you one last smile before turning out of the room. shuffling your things into your bag, you ran to catch up to him. ‘jay, wait!’ you called, seeing him stop in his tracks.

‘yeah?’ he asked cluelessly. you got closer, a bright smile on your lips. leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. jay felt himself tensing up, his entire body warming up at the gesture.

‘thank you, jongseong,’ you smiled, then leaving him to stand there looking like an idiot.

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goldensstateofgrace · 3 years

Text

- Love Along The Way- Chapter I

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Asks/ Lmk what you thought |

Series Summary: Reader joins the band in writing songs for their third album (Youngblood) and love finds her along the way.

Chapter Summary: Y/n is working in the studio when Calum walks in on her writing ‘Babylon’ and it goes from there.

A/N: SURPRISE BESTIES!!! IT’S HERE!! AHH i’m so happy with this chapter!! I hope you all love this series as much as i love writing it!! All I am asking is that you give me your patience between chapters because i am a slow writer and i’ve been going through a hard time mentally.

Warnings: talk of cheating, mom reader, heartbreak, cancer ( not in detail), lmk if i missed anything!

Word count: 6k

I hope you guys enjoy!! I worked very hard on this and I’m super proud of it!!

Happy reading!! - G

You’d had these lyrics stuck in your head, replaying on a loop for a while now, but hadn’t had any time to actually get them down on paper.

You weren’t going to lie, this last year has been a clusterfuck. From Easton breaking up with you, basically telling you he found someone else and that he wants nothing to do with you or Elijah, to not being able to write because you’ve been transitioning Elijah into preschool (he was not having it.) It was safe to say it had been a very rough year for you.

When you did sit down and try to write, nothing would come to mind. All of your anger and heartbreak were there and ready to be used to make beautiful music others could relate to, but you just couldn’t come up with anything. Well, besides those lyrics, it was a longshot trying to come up with anything for that either.

Maybe it was still too fresh, and maybe you were still heartbroken, but you just needed to do something besides sit in bed wallowing in your self pity.

Of course, Elijah didn’t know what was happening. He just knew ‘daddy’ left and that he hasn’t been back. You didn’t have the guts or the courage to break his heart by telling him ‘daddy’ wasn’t coming back. He was three, he wouldn’t understand, but it also broke your heart all over again when he asked in his tiny curious voice ‘da-ddy?’

What were you supposed to say, “I'm sorry baby, but ‘daddy’ doesn’t love us anymore and he’s not coming back?” No, you weren’t going to do that to him.

But as you sit there on the dark studio couch, the lyrics on the tip of your tongue, it's like you can’t get anything out. You have them right there in front of you, your black bass guitar sitting in your lap as you strum the bass line softly and hum along until you finally try and sing out the lyrics.

“We said we’d both love harder than we knew we could go,” you sang softly into the empty room, thinking back to nights when you laid next to Easton, talking about how much you loved each other and how neither of you would ever stop because you loved each other more and more everyday.

“But still knowing when to let go- no” you shake your head, not liking how that sounded. “But still the hardest part is knowing when to let go” nodding, you scratch out your previous lyrics and replace them before you go back to picking at the cords, finding where you left off.

You were so focused on the lyrics, mumbling to yourself and scratching out lyrics and replacing them you didn’t hear the studio door open.

You were struggling on a particular verse, mumbling to yourself as you read off the lyrics written in what looks like chicken scratch in the notebook layed out in front of you.

“You wanted to go higher, higher, higher, we-” but you stopped, stumped on what should come next. You sing what you already have out, trying to come up with anything but fall back into the couch cushions groaning when you don’t.

“We burn too bright, now the fire’s gone, watch it all fall down” a voice sings out, startling you, and you let out a gasp. Looking up at the tall curly headed man standing at the door, your brows furrow. You were supposed to have this studio for two hours. He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, and a ‘The tonight show, Starring Jimmy Fallon’ gray shirt. A pair of Vans covered his feet and tattoos covered his arms.

“Just thought I'd suggest something that came to mind,” the accented man voices, walking down the small step from the door and down where you are. You watch as he takes a seat on the small black loveseat against the wall across from yours.

You close your eyes and sing the words in your head, strumming the bass as you do. “Thanks, that’s actually really helpful,” you tell him, writing it down. “How long were you standing there?” you ask him, looking over his dark curly hair and down to his brown eyes that look over you just as you are him.

“Just a minute or two. Didn’t expect anyone to be in here, the band is supposed to have booked it for a few hours today.”

You look down at your watch hearing his words and gasp at the time.You were almost twenty minutes late to pick up Elijah from preschool.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time” you tell him, quickly placing the bass back on its stand in the corner next to the couch and packing your notebook and music sheets in your bag.

“It’s ok, happens to the best of us,” his deep accented voice carries towards you as you see him shrug his shoulder out of the corner of your eye. “I’m Calum by the way,” he introduces himself, holding out his hands as you move to walk past him.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n and also very late to -” you hesitate, not wanting to tell a stranger you just met about your son. “ To a dinner” you finish, shaking his hand before walking around him and to the door.

Your hand is on the handle and pulling it open, before you hesitate, awkwardly turning over your shoulder to say, “It was nice to meet you, thank you for the lyrics,” you smile at him.

He nods, sending you a friendly smile. “Any time”.

You watch his eyes roam over you before you wave and head out, a smirk playing on your lips.

Quickly, you make it to your car, driving 10 over the speed limit and making it to the preschool near your house in record time. You run up the sidewalk, signing Elijah out at the front desk before making your way down the hall to his classroom.

He’s playing blocks with two other kids who happen to be siblings, Avery and Jase, not even paying you any mind, too engrossed in building a tall tower just for it to fall down landing all over the play mat.

“Elijah, mommy’s here,” his teacher, Miss. Rachel, calls him when she sees you in the doorway. You watch as his head quickly turns your way, a bright smile spreading across his chubby cheeks.

“Mommy!” he squeals, standing to his feet and running to you. His small arms wrap around your thighs, his cheeks squished as he looks up at you with his bright smile.

“Hi baby! Did you have fun today?” You smile, squatting down to his level and squeezing him to your chest as you place kisses all over his face.

He nods against you, pulling back as he tells you all about how he painted you a picture but that you had to wait to see it because it had to dry overnight.

“I can’t wait to see it, baby! We’ll have to hang it on the fridge” you tell him as you grab his bag off the hook, telling him to go help clean up the blocks and a few cars that were laying out when you see that the parents of Avery and Jase are also here.

When he’s all done you pick him up, placing him on your hip as you walk out to the car, his head resting on your shoulder as his eyes fall heavy. You know he’ll fall asleep the minute you start driving.

You load him into his car seat and buckle him in before heading down the street, taking a few left turns and passing tall, two story gated houses before you pull into your own gated driveway. You bought this house with Easton, but only you signed the mortgage, so it was easy for him to move out. No need to sign paperwork or go to court. You’re so thankful for that.

You wanted a safe neighborhood for Elijah to grow up in, and this is it. You moved in when he was a newborn, you did have to sign an NDA because some celebrity lived in one of the houses across from you, but you'd never seen them so you didn’t know who it was.

As you expected, when you went to grab Elijah out of his car seat he was out like a light, his mouth open as he rested the side of his tanned forehead on the side of the padded car seat.

Smiling softly at his sleeping form, you gently unbuckled him and rested him on your chest as you walked into your house and to the couch. You had a net that attached to one end of your couch that stopped about mid center of the cushions to stop him from rolling off. He doesn’t roll around in his sleep often, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. You place him behind it and lay his favorite blanket over him before you walk into the kitchen to start on dinner.

--------

It’s been a week since you ran late in the studio and Calum walked in on you. For some odd reason, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You had barely even talked to the guy but yet he was stuck in your head. His lyrics were stuck, replaying in your mind. He had only stood there for a minute or two, but yet the lyrics he sang went so well with yours.

You were back in the same studio today, placing the finishing touches on the lyrics before you recorded the demo for it and eventually sold it to an artist or band to make their own.

You look up, your brows furrowing when you hear loud laughter out in the hall, but you brush it off and finish setting up your computer on the panel so you could record the demo when you were done with the lyrics.

Standing, you make your way into the booth, setting up a stool and pulling the bass guitar and it’s stand into the booth as well. You didn’t hear the door open, or the four laughing men walk into the room until you go to step back into the studio where the panel is.

Your brows furrow when your eyes meet Calum’s brown ones, his face showing shock before it turns into a bright smile as his cheeks scrunch up. It reminds you of Elijah’s. You know you weren’t late to pick him up or running over your studio time because you booked the studio until lunch; it was only 10:30am.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this,” Calum jokes with you, his bright smile making something flutter in you.

“But this time it’s not my fault,” you tell him, smiling and looking at the three other very tall men standing behind him.

The tall blonde with blue eyes and curly hair that ends at his ears smiles at you, showing off his dimples, “I’m Luke, it’s nice to meet you.” he introduces.

You smile politely. “It’s nice to meet you too, I'm Y/n.”

“Oh we know,” the red head chuckles. His hair is clearly dyed, but it suits him. His smile is bright and contagious. “Cal over here couldn’t stop talking about you and how amazing of a songwriter you are. I’m Ashton,” he tells you, holding out his hand for you to shake.

You quirked an eyebrow up in Calum’s direction. “Is that so,” you tease, watching as his cheeks tint a shade of pink while you shake Ashton’s hand.

“Oh yeah,” the shorter blonde one speaks up. “He even looked you up, wanted to know if you were selling that song you were working on. I’m Michael, but you can call me Mikey.”

“Well you’re in luck, I was just about to record the demo for it. But if you’re interested you can have a look at the finished lyrics,” you tell them, pulling out the pages of printed lyrics from your bag.

They all nod, sitting down on the couches. You hand Calum the papers, smiling down at him before you take a seat at the panel, watching as they all huddle around Calum to read the lyrics.

A chorus of ‘holy shit’s’ and ‘fuck that’s good’ sound as they finally put the paper down and stare at you.

“So, you like it?” you ask.

“Do we like it?” Ashton asks incredulously, looking at the boys and shaking his head in a way that says he can’t believe you asked that.

“Yeah, y/n. We like it.” Calum tells you. “We're working on our third album right now and I think it would be great to add it to the album,” he says, looking at the other guys as they nod along in agreement.

“That’s great, we can sign all of the paperwork soon.” you say, excited you don’t have to record the demo now. It’s always the hardest part. “I wrote a bit of a bass line, but nothing else so do whatever with it.”

“We actually have something to ask you,” Ashton says, nudging Cal in the arm. Cal glares at him with a look like ‘knock it off’.

“We were talking after I played some of the other songs you’ve written.You’re an amazing songwriter and we wanted to know if you wanted to help us write our album?” he asks, a bit shyly you notice.

You’ve never written with someone or a band, not because you didn’t want to, you’ve just never had the opportunity. The only reason you would even consider turning this down was Elijah; you couldn’t take this opportunity if it was going to keep you from him.

You weren’t really keen on telling people you barely knew about your son, but if you wanted to work with them and still have enough time for Elijah they needed to know.

“Look,” you sigh, watching their shoulders deflate a bit and their hopeful expressions drop a tad. “I would love to, but you need to know I have a 3 year old son, and I can’t have this taking me away from him. I promised myself when I got pregnant that I would always choose him over anything. Even if it is my dream. So,” you prompt, “if we can work around me having time with him then I’m in.”

They all assure you that they’d help you make time for him. Ashton really hit home with you when he tells you, “I totally understand you wanting to make time for him, I grew up with only my mom and my two little siblings. We’ll make sure you get time with him.” he smiles softly at you, a knowing but sad look in his eyes.

You smiled at him softly, thanking him and the guys, “I grew up with only my mom too. It was hard, but she was the best mother and role model. She was the strongest woman I know.”

“Was?” Calum asked softly. Looking at you with gentle but curious eyes.

You nod, smiling sadly. “She passed away a year and a half after Elijah was born. Breast cancer. It was really hard.” The memories come rushing back, and tears well up in your eyes, but you push them down, not wanting to cry.

You all talked for a while, working out when you were available and what times it would be good to meet at the studio. It was when you were all packing up that Ashton proposed a chill night. “We should all hang out and have a night where we get to know each other better, drink and just talk.”

There was a chorus of agreements, but when you hadn’t said anything they all stared at you waiting for your answer.

“That actually sounds like fun, I'll be there. Just let me know a time and place,” you tell them smiling. You haven’t had a night to yourself since before Easton left, so you were long overdue.

Calum offered to host it at his house, before you all exchanged numbers and left for the day. You planned on picking up Elijah early and taking him out for ice cream. It was his favorite treat and it was pretty hot today, so you decided it was a good day to indulge.

You were just pulling up outside of the preschool when your phone vibrated in the cup holder next to you. Pulling it out, you see the message notification reading ‘Calum Hood’ swiping it and unlocking your phone the text pulls up.

That should work for you, Elijah has been going to sleep around that time and you should be able to get Jessie to come over and watch him for a few hours while you’re over there. His address sticks out to you, not because you thought you’ve heard of it before but because it was basically your address just a few numbers off.

Maybe he’s why you had to sign the NDA. He most likely has had fans coming to his home and waiting around to even get a glimpse of him in the past and didn’t want this address to get out to the public.

Quickly sending him back a text, you put your phone back in the cupholder and go in to grab Elijah.

------

The next day you were up and finishing off the last ‘Mickey Mouse’ pancake for a late breakfast. You were surprised Elijah stayed asleep past 8am, it was currently almost 11am and you were just about to go check on him and tell him breakfast was ready when he came padding around the corner rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists.

“Well good morning little man,” you smile down at him, placing blueberries on his ‘Mickey Mouse’ pancake for eyes, chocolate chips for the mouth and a blackberry as the nose all adhered with whipped cream. Elijah was allergic to strawberries, or otherwise you would have added those in somehow.

You woke to a message from Calum, replying to your message from last night. It was only sent about forty minutes before you woke up, but you didn’t see it until you were in the middle of making breakfast.

You typed out a reply with one hand while flipping a normal round pancake for you and sending it.

You couldn’t figure out why you were smiling. He was a very attractive man, nothing like the guys you’ve dated in the past. Maybe that’s why you’re attracted to him. He’s not like the other guys who have treated you badly in the past; he’s nice and caring and didn’t run the second you mentioned you had a son.

When you and the guys had been talking yesterday in the studio he asked to see a photo of Elijah. He told you how adorable he was, and how he looked just like you. Calum seems to be such a genuine and down to earth guy and if you weren’t careful you would fall for him. And hard.

Carefully, you cut Elijah’s pancake up in little bites for him to eat, and pour a small amount of syrup over his and yours.

You watch as he uses his green plastic fork. He has his mouth wide open the whole time as he carefully brings it up to his mouth.

You cheer and kiss his cheek happily when he looks up at you excited when he got it in his mouth without dropping it.

“Look at you! You don’t even need mommy anymore, you're such a big boy!” you smile down at him, taking a bite of your own pancake. He laughs his small contagious laugh, picking up another piece of pancake.

“Baby, I need to talk to you about something” you say to him, making him look up at you with his wide brown eyes, his fork just at the entrance of his mouth.

“T-trouble?” he asks you over his chewing, still looking up at you.

“No, baby,” you chuckle, wiping the corner of his mouth where there was a bit of syrup threatening to drip down on his pj’s. “You’re not in trouble.”

“But I have a big job.’ you tell him, “ A band asked me to help them write music for their album, so it might not always be me picking you up from daycare, it might be Miss. Jessie sometimes, is that ok?”

He nods excitedly. “Yeah! Mi-miss Jessie is nice to m-me!” he stutters a bit as he gets excited.

“Okay, also, i have a friend and he invited us over to swim! Do you want to go swimming?” you ask him as you sip the last of your coffee before eating the last bit of your pancakes.

“Yeah!” he shouts. He’s been taking swimming lessons since he was two, he knows what to do if he falls into the pool. He loves the water too, he's a little fish when it comes to the water.

You both finish eating and while you rinse off the dishes and place them in the dishwasher Elijah runs into his room screaming excitedly about going swimming. You laugh, shaking your head at his antics before following after him when you’re done loading the dishwasher.

You change his diaper into one of those swimming ones with cars on it, before pulling a pair of yellow swim shorts over the diaper. When you have him changed, you pack his diaper bag with a change of clothes, an extra swim and regular diaper along with sunscreen and his yellow bucket hat.

You double check you have everything before you put his sandals on and bring him into your room so you can change into your blue bikini. It had high rise bottoms and the cups actually covered all of your breasts. You throw on a white cover up before sliding your own sandals on and heading out.

Since his house is literally one house down from yours and across the street, you decide to just walk over.

The sun was beating down on you as you walked out of the front door and locked it behind you. You text Calum that you’re on your way over before putting your phone in the diaper bag and heading down your driveway.

It only takes you a minute to walk down the sidewalk and cross the street to his house. Checking your phone to see if he messaged you back when you’re outside the black gate, he did, telling you the gate was open and just to come in.

You push open the gate, closing it behind you once you’re on the other side. There’s a black range rover parked in front of the open garage where you heard what sounded like an air pump.

Walking towards the garage and around the black SUV, you see Calum’s familiar dark curls as he kneels on the concrete blowing up a small turtle pool floaty.

“Hey,” you greet Calum as you place Elijah down on his feet and squat behind him, pulling up his yellow shorts from where they fell down on the walk over.

Looking up, you’re greeted with that bright white smile you’ve seen a few times at the studio but never fails to warm your heart.

“Hey, I'm glad you guys could come!” Calum greets you, plugging the hole on the floaty before he turns off the air pump. He stands up just to walk a few steps in front of you and kneel down to Elijah’s level. “It’s nice to meet you Elijah, I’m Calum,” he introduces himself sweetly as he smiles down at your son.

Elijah giggles, turning into you as hiding his face on your leg. “Don’t be shy, baby,” you chuckle, running your hand over the back of his dark hair. You smile up at Calum, his face showing nothing but happiness and eyes lit up with pure adoration.

“Can you say hi? Say, ‘Hi Calum’” you whispered in Elijah's ear, chuckling when he shook his head and held on tighter to you.

“The tickle monster is gonna get you,” you sing out, your hands unwinding from him and to his sides where you tickle him. Elijah lets out his high pitched laughter, giggling at you to stop as he tries to squirm out of your hold.

“Hi!” he squeals loudly and you stop tickling him. Elijah turns around to face Calum, smiling up at him as he says, “Hi, Ca- calum.”

“Hi, buddy. Are you ready to go swimming?”

Elijah shouts out a ‘Yes!’ throwing his hands in the air and singing the song he was singing this morning about going swimming.

“Sw-imming swimm-ing i going swimming” he shouts, causing you and Cal to break out in laughter.

-----

Calum was amazing.

He was so sweet and caring with Elijah. Playing the same game over and over for almost an hour just to hear Elijah’s loud laughter.

Catching your three year old over and over when he learned it was okay to jump into the pool and dunking him when he caught him just to throw him a few feet away in the water.

Elijah’s loud laugher reverberated around the backyard and the trees that were planted against the walls encasing the closed off area. You felt pure joy at hearing his laughter. You knew he was feeling down with everything that’s happened with Easton, and hearing his laughter reminded you just what you have to live for, what’s waiting for you on good days and bad.

Elijah is your whole world, your little sunshine, and you couldn’t imagine life without him.

Looking over at the pool where Elijah and Calum were splashing each other, big contagious smiles spread across their faces and laughter flowing from their chests, you can’t help but smile. Watching them warms your heart.

You were sitting on a couch in the shade next to the pool, Duke in your lap sleeping peacefully until Ashton’s loud voice invaded the bubble you all had been wrapped up in for the last four hours.

“Hey, why wasn’t I invited?” he fake pouts as he stands in the doorway of the sliding glass doors. His hands rest on his hips as his eyes flicker around to all of you.

“Thought you were with Kaykay,” Calum calls over to him, shrugging as he holds Elijah to his chest. That makes your heart flutter, seeing how tightly he holds him and how Elijah wraps his arms around Calums neck, a huge smile playing on his face.

“Again,” Elijah giggled out.

“Again? Ok,” Calum chuckled, throwing Elijah up in the air, his contagious laughter ringing out before he fell into the water below. You watch as Elijah swims to the surface,wiping his face of water and calling out ‘Again!’

Time flew by, because the last time you checked your phone was when you all sat down to have a bit of lunch around two, and it was now almost four thirty.

Ashton made his way over to the long outdoor couch you were sitting on and took a seat in the spot next to you.

“Is that Elijah?” he asks you softly, his eyes trained on Calum and Elijah who were spinning in the water before Calum launched your son in the air again as he let out a squeal of happiness.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “That’s E. He’s a handful.”

Ashton smiles, letting out a deep chuckle, “I bet. He’s adorable, he looks just like you,” he tells you.

“Thank you. When he was a baby he looked so much like my mom it was crazy.” you smile softly to yourself, remembering when you found old pictures of your mom and put one side by side with one of Elijah’s. They were practically identical.

You were brought out of your thoughts when a small wet body climbed up in your lap and laid his head on your shoulder tiredly. “Are you tired, E?” you ask him softly, moving his wet hair - he needs a haircut - off his forehead before placing a light kiss upon it.

He nods tiredly against you, his small hand lazily stroking the top of Duke’s head. The dog had moved to cuddle into the side of your thigh when Ashton sat down.

Calum appeared in front of you, a towel wrapped around his hips as he smiled down at you softly, holding out a towel for you. “Thank you,” you tell him, taking the towel and wrapping it around Elijah to try and keep him warm and dry him off.

“Should we just call Luke and Mikey and tell them to come over now? Since we're already here?” Ashton asks as Calum sits on the ‘L’ part of the couch next to your legs. “Did you drive here?” he asks you, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t see your car out there when I pulled in.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “I live across the street.”

Ashtons eyebrows raise in surprise before he lets out a chuckle, “wow, small world.”

You nod, “if you guys want to call Luke and Mikey that’s okay with me, but the babysitter I have for E can’t come until 7, she has a family thing.” you tell them, looking down at the small boy in your arms who has fallen asleep against your shoulder.

“That’s fine. If you want you can go lay him down in my bed? So he can take a nap until your babysitter gets to your house,” Calum tells you softly.

“Yeah,” you nod. “That would be good.” you tell him, smiling up at him gently.

You all head inside, Elijah on your hip sleeping soundly against your shoulder as Calum leads you down the hall just off the kitchen and to the last door on the right. It was nothing like you’d picture his room to be.

The walls are white, and there’s a tv hanging on the gray accent wall in front of the bed. The bed is made with the white fluffy comforter folded where it meets the firm, white pillows at the top of the bed. The floor is clear, save a few cords to the tall lamp in the corner of the room and a charger.

“Bathroom’s through there,” he tells you pointing to the open door next to the tv.

“Thank you, Cal,” you tell him sincerely. Thankful for him offering to let E nap in his room.

“Yeah, of course y/n. Make yourself at home,” he smiles before leaving you and walking back to the living room.

You unwrap the towel from around Elijah, laying it out on the bed before placing your sleeping boy down gently. You change him into his regular diaper, causing him to whine and thrash around before you change him into a pair of navy blue cotton shorts and a plain white shirt . He quiets down, falling back to sleep as you move him up to the pillows, forming a sort of wall around him with a pillow on both sides of his body before you gently place a kiss to his forehead.

Picking up the diaper bag you walk into the bathroom, which is just as clean as the bedroom, to change yourself.

You untie your bikini top and reach into the bag, only to find a swim diaper and the sunblock. You swore quietly, thinking back to when you packed the bag and realizing you didn’t pack a pair of extra clothes for yourself.

Quickly you put your top and your white cover up back on, swearing at yourself in your head for forgetting clothes before walking out of the bathroom quietly so you didn’t wake Elijah up.

You padded down the hallway and into the kitchen where Cal was sitting at the counter as Ashton rummaged through the fridge talking about a song he started writing.

Calum looks up when you appear in the kitchen doorway, his eyes flickering over your body as his brows furrow, “You didn’t change?” he points out more than asks.

You nod, biting your lip as your cheeks blush. “Uh, yeah. I forgot to pack any clothes for myself,” you tell him, smiling shyly, “But i’m ok in this,” you assure him.

“Are you sure?” he asks, concerned. “I can watch Elijah while you go home to change-” he pauses, “or actually I think Mali might have left some clothes behind when she was here last.” he tells you, hopping off his stool and walking down the hall again.

Mali? Is that his girlfriend?

Your stomach fills with dread. Just when you thought you finally met someone that didn’t run at the mention of your son, he probably has a girlfriend. Just look at him, of course he has a girlfriend.

“She’s always buying way too many new clothes while she’s here, she can’t fit them all back into her suitcase when she needs to leave,” he tells you chuckling as he holds out a pair of grey sweat pants and a green hoodie.

You hesitate a second, not really wanting to wear his girlfriend's clothes. But the chill in his house is causing goosebumps to appear on your arms. “Thank you,” you say, taking them from his hands and walking back down the hall to change rooms and check on Elijah.

-----

“No,” Luke sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you nod, your mood a stark difference from what it was an hour ago. “He came home one day and said ‘I found someone else, I don’t love you and I'm leaving’ he didn’t even mention Elijah. Just packed up all of his shit while I sat on the couch crying trying to wrap my head around what was happening.”

“From the moment I found out I was pregnant it felt like he was on a different planet. We didn’t match anymore, we didn’t have that spark. If I'm being honest with myself that spark died out a long time ago, I just didn’t want to admit it. He was obviously not excited about the pregnancy- and I wasn't either at first, but when I heard E’s heartbeat for the first time-” you pause, “I can’t even describe it. It was like all my motherly instincts clicked in and I loved him more than I could ever have imagined,” you sigh, smiling at the memory of the day you heard Elijah’s heartbeat.

“I kept telling myself that Easton would come around once Elijah got here. It never really happened though. We were both in our twenties, he wanted to party, and drink and just have fun, and he did, and I stayed home with a screaming newborn while he was out living it up.” shrugging you looked up at all of them, smiling softly.

When you came out from changing into the clothes Calum lent you, all the guys were in the kitchen talking. Luke brought Chinese and you all just sat around talking for hours. You learned a lot of eye opening things. Elijah went home about an hour after they all got there, Jessie coming over to grab him before going back over to your house.

They formed their band when they were still in highschool, which was crazy to you. How they were still friends amazed you; you had lost contact with all your highschool friends when you moved to LA.

Ashton was the oldest out of all of them. Mikey told the story of how he messaged Ashton on facebook messaged Ashton asking if he wanted to join the band. You laughed so hard at how the story was told, it was like one of those boards with all the strings connecting different things that all come to one big conclusion. They were all over the place.

Then it was Mikey and Calum in the middle and Luke was the baby. They were all amazing, genuine guys and you couldn’t have been happier to call them your friends.

You somehow had gotten on the topic of siblings at one point. Mikey doesn’t have any, but he was chessy when he said, “yeah but I have these guys as my brothers,” all the guys ahh’d and called him out on being cheesy but you could tell they were family.

Ashton talked more about his sister and brother, telling you about how his dad walked out on him and then his mom met his stepdad and they had Lauren and Harry before he eventually walked out too. Your heart hurt for him, because you knew just how that felt.

Luke has two brothers, Jack and Ben. You smiled and laughed as he told stories of his childhood and how he and all the guys got up too.

You told them all about your brother, Jaxon. How he was back home in Nashville playing baseball and how he dreamed of going pro.

Calum talked about his sister, how she visits every once and a while when she’s not in the studio or writing her own music.

“Yeah, Mali lives in London so I don’t get to see her much. We talk at least twice a week just to catch up. She’s supposed to visit in a few months so you’ll get to meet her soon,” he smiles over at you.

Mali is his sister? Well, that makes a whole lot of sense.

“That’s great, I can’t wait to meet her!” you tell him, smiling over at him happily.

You all talked for another hour or so, laughing and telling stories before you decided it was time to go. You said bye to everyone, hugging them and telling them you’d see them on friday when you and Alec met them at the studio after lunch.

Calum politely walked you home just to be safe.

“I had a great day, thank you for inviting us over. I know Elijah had a blast,” you tell him, smiling softly up at him. “You were so great with him, he’s normally pretty shy around new people.”

“I did too, we’ll have to do it again.” he tells you. “He’s a great kid, he’s so adorable,” he tells you, smiling.

“Definitely,” you nod up at him.

There was that awkward silence where you both just looked at each other, your eyes flicking between his as his eyes flicked over your face and fell to your plump lips. Your breath hitched as his eyes linger there before returning to your eyes.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispers, pulling you into a tight hug.

You relax in his arms, hugging him back as your face hides in his neck. “Goodnight, Cal” you whisper back lingering in the hug before he kisses the top of your head and lets go.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he calls, descending the three steps of your porch.

“See you friday!” you call back before walking into your house. Your back pressing to the back of your front door as you let out a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Oh my god! That was Calum Hood!,” you hear excitedly from your couch making your eyes pop wide open.

---

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marymccartneyphotos · 3 years

Text

Paul Weller in conversation with Mary McCartney: ‘We used to pinch a lot of Beatles songs’

For this Woking-born son of the 1970s, there were four father figures who underpinned everything, from his first guitar to an inspirational career that continues to expand and explore more than 50 years later. On the release of his latest solo record, his third in three years, we asked Paul Weller to pick through the past with an artist who knows better than any how The Beatles shaped the generation that followed. By Dylan Jones; 4 June 2021 from British GQ Magazine

(edited for Mary McCartney content only)

For Weller’s latest GQ appearance, we thought it would be good to put him together with an old friend, the photographer Mary McCartney. Which is what we did...

Mary McCartney: So, Paul, when did you become a Beatles fan? When you were 12?

Paul Weller: When I was five years old. I had some of the singles, because my mother bought them, but the first time I saw them was the Royal Variety Performance in 1963, when I was five. From the time I saw The Beatles I loved music and then when I was around age 12 I started trying to learn to play guitar. Me and my mate had a few lessons for a bit and got a few weeks in, but the guy was trying to teach us how to read music, so we got bored with that. And as soon as we learnt enough chords we stopped the lessons and we just start doing it ourselves.

MM: When did you actually start writing songs?

PW: As soon as we – me and my mate Steve Brookes – learnt the three or four chords. I’m still mates with him now. We started a band and we just learned together and we just kept swapping whatever we’d learned in the week, swapping back and forth. It was just me and him and then we just gathered up people as we could find them. There was never any doubt in my mind that’s what I would do and, even at around 12, I thought that was definitely what I was going to do for a living. Well, I didn’t know it could be a career, I just knew I was going to do music. So by the age of 14 we were playing pubs, working men’s clubs and social clubs with The Jam. But your dad’s band was the catalyst for all of it.

MM: You know, I’m directing a documentary about the history of Abbey Road Studios at the moment, so I’ve been taken back to those times. There is a photograph of me aged three months on one of the sofas in the studio, so I was there before I can remember being there. Whenever I walk in through the doors I still get a funny feeling. But I’m learning a lot about The Beatles’ recording process, though. What was your writing process in the early days?

PW: When we started to write songs we just used to pinch a lot of The Beatles songs. They were very basic, just us taking our first steps as songwriters. I was actually very passionate at the time, but I didn’t have the skills to articulate that passion. That kind of developed. Our first songs would have been nonsense songs, just “My Baby Love Me” stuff... But, like every other fledgling songwriter, I just started off by aping other people, like The Beatles did, like Dylan did. Everyone starts out copying other people.

MM: I assume you recorded your new album during lockdown?

PW: I did. I had about four or five tracks left over from [last year’s] On Sunset and they were just lying around, unused. So I started working away, chipping away, trying to put together a new batch of songs. As ever, I recorded them all in the studio down in Surrey, just me and a guitar singing along to a click track. If I couldn’t record with the band, I’d send the recordings to them and they’d play their parts and then send them back. It was a very odd process, but it worked. However, when we could finally all record again together, it was like the first day of school after the summer holidays. It was great. The writing process was actually the same as it always is, but because I knew I didn’t have any live work for the foreseeable future, we just created all this space. I think the lockdown was actually hugely influential in a way, as all the quiet made me appreciate nature in a way I hadn’t done for quite some time, maybe ever. I could really feel and hear and see nature again, it started to take over. I loved hearing the birds sing and not seeing any aeroplanes in the sky. It helped me think about things I would never normally think about in any situation. I felt more in tune with nature. I had a thought that if we weren’t here, if we all disappeared, which I’m sure we will do one day, the earth would just reclaim itself and that it will always be here and we won’t.

MM: It was such a nice feeling, actually stopping and looking and appreciating, not rushing around. I was lying in bed one night in the middle of London. It was 2am and it was so quiet it felt like we had gone back 100, 200 years. I couldn’t hear the rumble of the underground and it was almost as though cars hadn’t been invented.

PW: How was your lockdown, Mary?

MM: Mine was good, but we’re not here to talk about me. I’m grilling you today. But mine was good. Well, I say it was good, but it was unnerving. I think, on a global scale, it was just unnerving because it was like living in a science fiction movie. I think the main thing a lot of us benefitted from was having to slow down and not being able to just go and do things. So, in that sense, it wasn’t a bad thing. I was obviously worried about people’s health and the economy, but, like you, I really got in touch with nature. I did a lot more photographic work outside. And, of course, I started to prep for the Abbey Road doc. What’s the perfect recording scenario for you?

PW: Well, I love my studio and, to be honest, I’d be quite happy to never come out of the place. I could quite happily stay there forever. I bought the building in 1999, but it’s only really been the past 15 years or so that we’ve really got it together, with the sound and the vibe and the equipment. I’m continually making little acoustic adjustments to the room. We’ve got a drum kit set up all the time, as well as a mic’d piano, so it’s always ready to roll. I can play guitar, obviously, as well as bass and piano, but I’ve never really enjoyed playing the drums, because I can’t sing and drum with any conviction. It’s a different art altogether, playing drums. I like drummers who play the song, who can play the tune and who aren’t trying to do their own thing. That requires a certain amount of discipline, a different discipline: not playing too much but playing the right thing. Your dad is a good drummer.

MM: Yeah, he is. Mum introduced me to a song he played drums on years ago, called “My Dark Hour”, by the Steve Miller Band. He’s credited as “Paul Ramon” and he does backing vocals, guitar, bass and drums. It was recorded in Olympic Studios in London towards the end of 1969, after an argument Dad had had with the others over Allen Klein becoming their manager. The others had gone off and he said Steve Miller walked in and asked if he wanted to play the drums on this track he was recording. I think the drumming on it is so good, but you can tell he’s letting out a lot of tension.

PW: I love that first solo album of your dad’s, the one with you as a baby on the back. That’s probably one of my favourite records. It was lo-fi before lo-fi was even talked about.

MM: I love the rawness of it, as it’s just so personal. I still listen to McCartney and Ram a lot. They shot the album cover up in Scotland. They were horse riding and he zipped me up in his jacket. He put me in the jacket so I was safe, as he was going riding. I love that picture from a photographic point of view as well, as it’s very real. It’s taken at the end of the day, during the golden hour. It’s so natural.

PW: Now, what was it like growing up, then, as a daughter of a Beatle?

MM: Well, it was more like growing up as a daughter of Paul and Linda, because they were such a great couple. But,

also, they were such adventurous people. So, we were kind of following them around and going on lots of adventures. We went on tour with them and we really only stopped when we needed to go to school. So I have lots of memories of travelling as a girl. I even remember going on the double-decker that they used as a tour bus in 1972. The seats on the upper deck were replaced by mattresses and bean bags.

PW: I assume it was your mother’s inspiration that made you want to be a photographer...

MM: I think so, as I think I just always saw her taking pictures. She had such a casual style too. She didn’t do a lot of setting up and neither do I. It’s just so much nicer when you connect with your sitter and when you just casually take pictures. I much prefer that and I certainly know that you don’t like to have your picture taken in a very set-up kind of situation. What really got me into becoming a photographer was looking at Mum’s pictures from the 1960s. They were about her being with someone and taking pictures and very much not “This is Jimi Hendrix”. Again, casual. When I became a photographer, I took Mum’s talent for granted. She would take pictures out the car window and then they became these books or a print on the wall. When I started doing it myself I’d put the camera up and I’d be like, “Dad, can you turn the car around so I can take this picture?” And he’d be like, “No.” She would take pictures so effortlessly and I didn’t realise there was a knack to it. Mum and Dad would treat everyone equally; I do remember that. We were always surrounded by people, so I suppose that’s why I think I am a bit of a people person. I like meeting people and I like connecting with people, but I still find I’m quite shy about it. I find it stressful, but I like it. But I could never in a million years get up on a stage, ever. Even thinking about it makes me feel like fainting. When did you first walk out in front of a big crowd? How does that feel? Is it just feeling that adulation and love and appreciation and then giving that back? Does that feel really healthy? I always think when it works perfectly, it just must be such a healthy feeling.

PW: It’s almost a weird thing, because just prior to going on stage, especially in the hour before, I’m in bits. I’m so nervous and so don’t want to be there and want to go home, and then within minutes of actually being on stage, as soon as that first tune strikes up, I automatically feel as though this is completely where I’m supposed to be. It feels like the most natural, most comfortable, Zen-like place you could possibly be, it’s so weird. I’ve always felt nervous before going on stage. That’s never changed. I mean, it’s got a little bit better as I’ve got older, but not much. I think I need to have that feeling. It was weird, because there was a time when I tried to stop drinking – before I stopped completely – and when I stopped I suddenly wasn’t nervous before going on stage. And I didn’t like it. It felt really odd.

MM: Isn’t there something superstitious about this?

PW: No, I don’t think so. I just think it gives you an edge. Those nerves can make you edgy and I think that’s important for me.

MM: And then did the nerves come back?

PW: When I started drinking again they did.

MM: But now you’re not?

PW: When I finally stopped drinking it took me at least two years to get used to that feeling of going on stage totally sober and straight. And now I love it. But it took a good two years to get comfortable, as it was really odd at first. I’d be on stage and I’d notice so much, like there’s a guy in the front row who’s wearing a green shirt or something, and now I don’t feel that at all. Now it feels natural and I have a greater appreciation of it. That’s the other thing as well, getting more from it and being more conscious of what we’re doing.

MM: Growing up, watching Mum and Dad on stage just felt natural. But I’ve seen you play a few times and it makes me realise how much I couldn’t do it myself. There is such great energy and it’s really entertaining and you look completely natural, but I wouldn’t be able to feel comfortable in that position. Also, to me, it feels like your music has to be played live. I went to a concert before lockdown and the person was so vacant and not connected to the audience and, because of that, it made me nervous. You could tell they were going through the motions, that it was an act. They had no connection at all. Whereas when I look at Dad on stage he’s all about connection. I think I had taken it for granted before that, but when you see someone who doesn’t connect, you realise how important it is.

PW: I know some people who turn up just before they go on stage and as soon as they finish they get in the car and they’re off. I don’t understand that either. It’s a far bigger thing than that for me, because I’m looking for that connection. As much as the audience might be, I am as well, and my band too, because I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes and there are some nights where you get so connected together by an audience that this thing just grows and grows. It transcends the moment.

MM: It’s like magic.

PW: It’s something special. The last time I played at the Fillmore in San Francisco, a couple of years ago, it was like that, and it wasn’t because of gear. It was almost like we took off, like the whole room just lifted up.

MM: Have you got a ritual for after the show?

PW: No, not really. No.

MM: My dad has this sandwich and a Margarita, because he doesn’t eat before he goes on. He waits until after.

PW: I have a cup of tea these days. In the past, I would have got off my nut, but I don’t any more. But if you have a gig like that and that becomes your benchmark, you’re always looking to get back to that moment, which is not always possible. But that becomes the thing you’re always searching for, to find that connection. We’re always striving for the spectacular. It’s the same with record companies. Sometimes you have to compromise, but what you really want to do is pursue your own passions. It was more difficult when we first started, because the record company tried to step in more and tried to guide us to do this or that. In the early days of The Jam they even suggested we cover a 10cc song. We said, “No fucking way is that going to happen.” You’ve got to stick to your guns. You’ve got to pursue what you set out to achieve.

MM: Fashion and clothes feel important to what you do, maybe because they make you feel a certain way to be able to perform?

PW: Yeah. But although I was too young to be really involved in the 1960s, I still lived through that time and that whole thing has never gone away for me. I love that period and it informs a lot of what I do, including how I dress. The whole look and sound of that time is just really formative. I don’t feel I’m stuck in that time, but it will always be the cornerstone of everything I do. I just thought it was such a brilliant time for music and fashion and art and all that stuff.

MM: What do you think it is about it? Is it experimentation?

PW: I think so. It was those postwar years, coming out of all that austerity, that bleak black and white, grey world – large parts of the country were still like that in the early 1960s. There were still bombsites. There was still slum housing. So it took a long time for Britain to become modern, but when it did, it was explosive.

MM: Dad describes it as it all suddenly going technicolour.

PW: Yeah, I think that’s true and you just see the clothes and music expanding. Men stopped wearing demob suits and started wearing all these bright-coloured clothes.

MM: And the pill came about and made life a lot easier.

PW: Then the other pills came a little bit later and helped expand everyone’s horizons. These people were pioneers. And also look at the art world – Peter Blake, David Hockney, Bridget Riley. It felt as though everything was becoming more modern and opening up and becoming different and colourful. I was only a very tender age, but, nevertheless, that influence was of great importance and value and always has been. Punk was probably the first time I experienced that freedom. We missed out on the 1960s, had a lift with Bowie, but after that it was largely a cultural wasteland. I was always looking for when I thought it was going to be our term. The 1970s were still very much in the shadow of the 1960s until punk. And then it all blossomed. Then it all started to make sense.

Fat Pop (Volume 1) by Paul Weller is out now.

Producer: Grace Guppy. First assistant: Pedro Faria. Digital technician: Alexander Brunacci. Make-up: Jane Bradley. Retouching: The Hand Of God

#musician #mary mccartney #interview #paul weller #photographer #paul mccartney #Linda McCartney

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putseraphinaonthaphone · 3 years

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Chromatic

Classical Pianist Katsuki Bakugou has a favorite coffee shop on the short walk from his studio back to his apartment. It's small, 24 hours, and has a stage that's always free for musicians to use. And it's run by you, a would be musician who's a better baker and coffee maker-that he can't stop coming back to see.

@nanamisbento & @hanji-is-life both made a world of difference in making me feel confident enough to write this as a full drabble, so thank y'all <3 y'all are sweethearts and I love this au so muchhhh

~light angst, slow burn, black!queer!reader, musician au~

"Cross my heart hope to die, I ain't got no love to give," you plucked at the guitar strings lazily your eyes focused on nothing but the strings and trying not to cry- and if felt like your alto voice was fighting through gravel. Huskier than normal, verging on tenor like you always dreamed about, and you were too fucking sad to enjoy it.

You missed your friend, you missed talking to him. Teasing him, making him laugh. And worse, you knew the home he went back to wasn't the healthiest. You knew all too well how a house could be so much worse than the stress of school.

"Baby boy so goddamn fine, swear you give me a peace of mind," and it was true. Just being near him, talking about poetry, anything, made you feel so calm. Fuck you missed him.

"Swear you make this young girl go crazy," If some tears fell onto your fretboard at least it was late enough that no one would come in until the morning rush.

"Now how could a man like you want somebody, so incredibly immature, insecure just like me?" Because he was just as insecure as you. It's why you two would talk on the phone for hours on end, about all your fears and worries, as much as your happiness. He was the friend you could talk about the lowest lows with because neither of you were afraid or unfamiliar with rock bottom- mentally, emotionally.

You slipped the strap of your electric guitar over your head and put it back on the rack (you left it out for musicians of all kinds to play when they felt inspired by your shop's vibes) and wiped your aching eyes. You didn't see or hear Bakugou slip back out the side door he'd came in through.

He'd first started coming in April, when the Washington rain was too torrential not to seek cover. He'd walked in soaking wet and spitting curses as he shut the door behind him. Ash blond hair and garnet eyes plus a jawline you'd cut yourself on meant you were half way infatuated before he even ordered.

"Black coffee with extra raw sugar, and whatever bread you have that's not sweet." It was a rumbling bass of a voice and damnit now you were officially in love- but then you noticed a case that you guessed carried an electric keyboard by the shape at his feet and in your excitement (that distracted you from his stunningly pretty face enough you could talk to him without tripping over your words like you were sure you were going to when you first came to take his order) you grinned at him so genuinely he forgot he was pissed.

"Sure thing, but just so you know- we have a permanent open mic set up here. You can play whatever instruments of mine you'd like to use, or you could set up your keyboard. It's great to see more musicians in here." You meant it, he could see in the way you seemed to light up like fireworks just talking about it.

"..Maybe next time." He tried to say hell no I'm never coming back to this tiny ass shop, do you know the size of the stages I usually play?!

But how could he regret his grumbled words when you clutched your small notepad to your chest and asked him in a rush (with a sparkle in your big doe brown eyes that didn't match your shaved head or heavy silver rings and earrings but was adorable nonetheless) "You mean it? You'd play here?"

It wasn't the same eagerness of ochestral directors prepared to embarrass themselves for a chance for The Katsuki Bakugou, classical pianist prodigy, to play with their ensembles. It was just a person who loved music and ran a tiny well cared for shop that was full of second hand furniture and mismatch cutlery and china, that was excited at the thought of music being played at all.

"Why not? I could play some of my own compositions for once instead of another goddamn Bach piece." You must have been imagining the blush on his cheeks because it was gone in seconds, and he was glaring at you with only the slightest of smiles taking the sting out of his words. "But am I going to get that coffee before I catch a cold from the fucking rain currently soaking my fucking clothes?"

Now it was your turn to feel heat burning in your cheeks as you sheepishly saluted "Right, coffee," and ran back to your bar to start his order. You found some fresh plain yeast rolls on the top shelf of your display case and an old towel in your supply closet. And if you didn't think about how much of a dork you made of yourself in front of your hottest customer to date your hands didn't shake when you put together his coffee in the largest cup you could find.

"Least sweet bread I have, black coffee with a fuck ton of raw sugar.." You winked to (hopefully) let the blond know you were kidding, "and a towel to make sure you'll survive long enough to play for me sometime."

He snorted and snatched the towel from your hands, starting to rub it vigorously over his hair with a blatant lack of fucks for how fluffy and wild it made it hair, but it seemed to you that there was humor in his voice as he sighed, "That depends on how good your shitty coffee is."

He started coming in on the regular after that. Sometimes dressed in a suit, that he was all but ripping off until he could roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt and unbutton the collar so he could breathe. (The first time you saw the bare column of his throat and the obvious strength of his chest meeting the delicate structure of his collar bones, you had to blame lifting heavy bags of coffee beans for your breathlessness.)

Sometimes he came from the opposite direction, dressed in jeans and old tshirts when it finally started warming up. He brought in his keyboard on those days and played a range of compositions you knew were his without him having to tell you. His left hand was more comfortable in the lower octaves of his keyboard when it was his own work, and there was more grief mixed in the bombastic anger that fueled the more staccato and forte phrases that had everyone in the small shop falling quiet to listen. Because it wasn't just hammering at the keys, it was complex harmonies of thirds and major sevenths that haunted the air even as he was moving on to the next phrase that was more of a murmur of echoing themes that passed back from hand to hand.

But your favorite times to see him was during your night shifts, when the shop was mostly deserted except for your quieter night owl regulars. Then he'd play pieces that were.. lullabies. Soft melodies and less minor chords than his daylight pieces. He'd take breaks in between pieces to come talk to you at the bar, ask your opinion on his playing- the genuine way he listened to your comments and compliments making your heart melt more than his good looks could have done alone.

And some nights, especially when it rains, he's telling you about the superficial nature of the classical music world and how sometimes he wishes he'd never gone into orchestral piano and just stayed in his old tiny but cozy apartment.

"Maybe we would've met anyway, and you'd still have this place and I'd come play for scraps on the weekends." And damn the wistfulness hits him hard, you can see it in the way his eyes soften for the first time in knowing him.

"I wouldn't let you play for scraps, it's tiny but it's my place. And your music would only add to the atmosphere. You'd get full employee wages and free coffee on the house." You're wistful too, and maybe it's the rain but you'd love for this dream to be real. Even for a moment.

You were sure you'd actually walk into being head over heels in love if he did one more sweet thing for you with his signature grumble and glare. But it was weird, ever since a few weeks back he'd stopped coming by as often. Looked at you strange when you teased him like you were both used to, and played pieces with more anger and sorrow than you'd ever heard from him before.

It was turning into the longest you hadn't seen him by the end of the week, so you were fucking furious when he strolled in one night.

Obviously coming from one of his bigger performances with the coattails and tuxedo tie, but no smile to show for it. Not even smugness in his eyes from a performance well done. He looked a little like shit actually, dark circles under his eyes and something indescribably sad in his garnet gaze that sought you out as soon as he walked in. It was the only thing that stopped you from completely ignoring his order when he came to the bar.

But you couldn't stop the obvious way your jaw was clenched while you worked, the hurt in your eyes when you set his coffee down in front of him.

He said your name, low and questioning, confusion growing on his perfect stupid face and that's when you couldn't take it anymore. He looked like shit, but you felt it. Losing one friend in a year was more than enough heart break for you. Having a friend, who you were already half in love with, start ghosting you on top of that? You weren't strong enough to take the highroad.

"Don't you fucking dare look at me like you don't understand. I don't understand why you decided our friendship doesn't mean shit to you anymore. If you were going to fucking ghost me I would've preferred if you'd done so before I started waiting for you to come by." You were glad no one was in the shop but the two of you when you realized somewhere along the line of yelling at him you started crying. Kat was looking at you with his mouth open in shock, and you didn't want to wait around to drag out your embarrassment.

But you were surprised when he came after. Calling your name again, moving quickly to get around the counter to follow you.

"Wait. Wait." His hand grabbed your wrist, the first time he touched you with no pretenses or excuses. The strength and gentleness of his hold only making it harder to stop your tears.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." You almost wished he'd go back to his more brash daylight self, you can't handle how quiet and gentle he gets in the early morning hours. Your heart was too soft on him already- even in your anger, you didn't resist when he pulled you close and cupped your cheeks. The pads of his thumbs wiping away your tears.

"You were crying that night too, when you were playing. I'd never heard you sing before." His fingers were on your lips, silencing you before you could even ask what the hell he was talking about. It was too much. Being unable to escape the way his eyes watched you, the way his voice got quiet- confessional.

"Let me finish. I heard you sing, and I saw you cry, and the thought of you crying for another man made me so angry I thought I'd die from how much I hated him. Whoever he was. So I stopped coming by as often. I didn't know that would hurt you.. I didn't think you would care if you were still heartbroken over some asshole." It was starting to make sense, starting to make you hope that maybe.. maybe he felt the same way you did.

"I get heartbroken over friends you know. Just friends." Your words are slightly muffled by his fingers, but its worth it to see the hope flare to life in his eyes.

How had you both missed it? All these months of longing.

"But the way you broke my heart by just not coming by? When I didn't even know what was wrong? That's worse than anything I've ever felt before-"

Your first kiss with Katsuki was salty from your tears, but it was okay.

He wanted your tears, your lips, you to be his and only his.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #gn!reader #katsiki bakugou x gn!reader #classical pianist bakugou #missives from the concubine

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lennoxstone · 3 years

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maggie lindemann & she/her / female ‷ watch out , lennox stone has crash-landed into roswell !! they look twenty-four years old and celebrate their birthday on october 30th . they are from dallas, texas, reside in tripp’s trailer park and are currently working as a photographer. one thing you should know about them is she can be very stubborn and intense.

tw: death, foster care, mental illness, drugs, child abandonment, neglect, suicide, self harm, blood

Full Name: Eleanor ‘Lennox’ Stone

Age: 24

Birthday: October 30, 1996

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Pronouns: She/her

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Siblings: Two brothers; 12 years old and 1 year old, from the family that wants to adopt her

Mental Illnesses: Bipolar II Disorder

Occupation: Bassist for Graveyard, freelance boudoir photographer

Eleanor Stone, who later renamed herself Lennox Stone, was born in Dallas, Texas to a drug addict. She was very clingy with her mother and had intense separation anxiety, likely due to her mother leaving her alone as early as five years old for one, sometimes two nights, in a row. When she was alone, she’d play the little keyboard in her bedroom, familiarizing herself with the notes eventually and teaching herself, later, to play keyboard. Ellie, her mother called her at that age, slept in her bed with her at night, and her mother believed that Ellie played the card really well of being ‘scared’ to do things by herself, when in actuality, Eleanor was scared. Did she sometimes manipulate because of that? Yes. But at her core was deeply ingrained fear that her mother would leave her forever. The only thing she knew about her father was that he was dead. She only found out in her young teenage years that he took his life, and was an alcoholic, after looking him up and meeting up with a living relative.

One night, Eleanor’s mother had an accidental overdose and showed up with Eleanor at her side at the neighbor’s doorstep. Her mother proceeded to have a seizure right there, with the seven year old girl looking on. The neighbors called an ambulance and they arrived, a social worker meeting them at the hospital. Several calls to CPS had already been made due to strange behavior going on with Eleanor’s mother, and she’d seen people come in and question her mother. Nothing came of it then, but this was the final call.

She believed for a long time that she was wrongly ripped from her mother at a young age, but it was only later that she came to have feelings of hate for her biological mother. Seven years old and withdrawn, she was mute for a year at her foster home. She said nothing to her foster mom, but would talk at school and to the therapists and to her foster dad. She manipulated him often, and ignored her new mom completely. Truthfully it was too painful to have a new mom. She told the therapist everything was fine. Nonetheless, her foster parents gave her up, and she went on to her second home at eight and a half years old. She stayed with them for three years. At nine, she would cut her wrists just to feel something. Her foster parents believed it was an act of manipulation, but it wasn’t at all. This time, she responded to therapy and stopped cutting her wrists for the most part, though she sometimes does even to this day when things are really bad. At ten, she had night terrors and would wake up screaming horrifically. She had moments where she would stare emptily, or just stop talking mid-sentence, and it scared both of her foster parents. Again, manipulation or acting--’faking’-- was suspected. She was later diagnosed with depression and reactive attachment disorder.

At eleven, she got into her parents’ liquor cabinet and in a fit of rage smashed all the bottles, cutting her feet accidentally as she tried to leave the kitchen, and her parents found her, horrified, blood and glass all over the floor. She, luckily, didn’t have an infection when they rushed her to the hospital with nasty cuts and open wounds all over her feet and knees.

She would scream out for her mom at night, and when her foster mom came to her side, Eleanor pushed her aside and screamed in her face. She said, “Fuck you! You aren’t my real mom!” They frequently cried at night, at wits end with this child who they had welcomed in their home who wouldn’t bond with them. They finally came to think that they weren’t suited to be her parents, and it was with a heavy heart that they stopped being her parents and she went on to the next home.

Eleven and a half, she found a permanent home--well, permanent until she aged out of the foster system at sixteen, and decided instead of staying with them, she’d start her life somewhere else, and picked a random place. While the time lasted, anyway, it was for the first time that Eleanor was able to bond with a foster family. They had a cat that she loved and a baby boy. So, why, did they want her? Well, they told her---because they had lost a child a few years ago, and they felt something when they first saw Eleanor. They felt that they intensely wanted to give her a good home.

She thrived with them for the first couple of years, getting involved in music, fine tuning her skills on the keyboard, and branching out to other instruments, feeling like she was finally good at something, even had a natural talent for it.

She began getting into alcohol and smoking marijuana at fourteen. They found it in her room and questioned her about it, not upset at all, very gentle. It was due to their gentle parenting that she decided to quit what she herself even believed was acting out. At least in that way. She still went out at night a lot without telling anybody, just needing to escape. She would mostly walk by herself, but she had one good guy friend, Matthew, who would be awake whenever she called. Eleanor fell in love with him and he fell in love with her. They were together for two years. During that time span she had found out the truth about her father, that he had been an alcoholic and had ended his life. She had enough of Texas. Her parents assured her she had a place with them for as long as and whenever she wanted it, but she left without a proper goodbye. She called them a month later to let them know where she was. She was staying at a friend’s house (someone she’d met and partied with upon landing in Roswell--they knew each other a week before she moved from her motel into their apartment.) She and the other female quickly began a romance, full of drama. She began questioning a lot about herself. Playing around with her identity. Who she was. What she liked. What she believed. But mostly, she was reckless, restless, and impulsive.

Seventeen, she changed her name unofficially from Eleanor to Lennox, left her girlfriend, and became apart of a group who were forming a band, moving back and forth from place to place. She’d become even more musical, and it had become a discipline for her, even; it was the one thing she felt like she was good at, and she took it seriously. It was and is really the only way she can express herself. And she loves the bass guitar, and can also play drums and piano. She felt like it was a good release for her anger. It was then that she found Cyrus, and the two formed a toxic relationship, almost always fighting. She had genuine feelings for him and probably still does, but the relationship wasn’t healthy in nearly any sort of way, and she didn’t feel she could handle that kind of thing anyway. Even though inside she hated being alone, felt this gaping hole in her heart when she was, that gaping hole didn’t take long--that emptiness didn’t take long--before it swallowed her whole again, even when she was right there in someone’s arms. Maybe the echoes of her childhood catching up with her?

She’s a tortured soul, feels like she’s lived way longer than her twenty-four years, and the “accidental deaths” that happened when the band was hanging around in mosh pits utterly ruined her. She beats herself up for it everyday, even if it couldn’t have been her fault. She still asks herself, is it my fault in someway, indirectly? She misses Cyrus. Now using music to get to him, even going off on her own and creating a hauntingly angry solo song that was leaked accidentally, showcasing her talent in a way that no one had quite seen before--who knew she could sing, or play the piano so well. And just when they’re working on creating their fifth album. But she was always known, even in childhood, to cause problems. And she did so in Graveyard. Frequently. Acting out, not showing up to meetings, or showing up late, or high. Lennox spends a lot of her days doing drugs and drinking alcohol, finds difficulty in getting through most days without them in some form, and she’s definitely rebellious, even aggressive at times. But underneath all of that is a scared inner child that actually feels things very deeply and loves intensely. In the past year she’s gotten into boudoir photography, and has found she’s decently good at it. She’s managed to accumulate clients, enough that she can afford living at the trailer park. Her foster family moved to Roswell a year ago, after their son was born (a happy surprise), after communicating with Lennox through phone calls and webcam for several years. They’ve just asked her if she’d be okay with them adopting her, even though it seems to her that it’s pointless at her age. Her sleep schedule is shit, as she often finds herself wandering around at night, not able to shut off her mind, thinking about running away and starting her life over someplace else. But she never does it. At least, not yet. The urge to run away in every area of her life is always so strong.

#roswellintro

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sunshinejins · 3 years

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if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi! jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic. so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks. unless people really like it. then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t. In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time. It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died. And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though. Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions. She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee. Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore. Like at all.

The world kept spinning. Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup. Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class. Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom. Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine. Julie watches her with slight awe. Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled. Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong. You haven’t been around music properly in what? A year? What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment. Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run. Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight. Very relaxed and casual vibes. I could pick you up from your apartment and take you. We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.” Julie hesitates. It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears.

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look.

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.”

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.”

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago. The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside. Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks. Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones. Allison was right, unsurprisingly. If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom. Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back. She’s taking a step. She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto. The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom. It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised? Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg. You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area. Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling. The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath. The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well. Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls. Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back. The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people. It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died. Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them? It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months. She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her. Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock. Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you. I can play. If you need it.” Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.” Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head. He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits. The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow. “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.

“No, I offered. Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone. Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes. It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach. Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close. He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see? And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.” Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none. We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says. Julie isn’t sure. She really isn’t. In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second. Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again. Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight. The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up. She’s supposed to start this song. This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier. She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth.

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #julie x luke #julie molina x luke patterson #juke #jukebox #jukebox fanfiction #juke fanfiction #julie x luke fanfiction #reggie peters #alex mercer #jatp #my writing #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #can i possibly tag this with anything else??? idk

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trashyinferno · 3 years

Text

my life goes on in endless song (raise the seventh, lead me on)

This is a WIP I've been working on off and on for a month now, but I wanted to share a bit of it just to get something out there!

Enjoy some Wilbur Soot and Philza found family... fluff? I think?

No warnings needed :)

From the beginnings of his life in the orphanage (tonic to a minor subdominant) to the moment he ran (minor submediant to a major dominant; raise the seventh, lead it somewhere when you’re running to), he remembers vaguely.

He remembers his caretakers (calm and gentle but not quite, not his – not his tonic). He remembers his playmates (only in sleep, their faces blank). He remembers the guitar he got for Christmas one year (and there’s the beginnings of his melody: one chord, then the next, and then his bass no longer plays in pedal).

There is one thing he remembers very well.

When he left, the melody soared.

And as he took one last look at the cold stone walls that had been his home (not quite, not ever, not his tonic), he knew that his symphony, wild and raucous with the thrill of the unknown, had finally begun.

----

The swirling cacophony of excitement fades a few days later when he realizes that his food stores are dangerously low. He figured he’d find something, but other than the occasional traveler, he hasn’t found anything remotely useful.

(Minor. Minor. Minor.)

He tries not to notice the way the progression sours when he steals a loaf of bread from a campsite someone’s left unattended. He can’t fight the way his gut twists and contorts as he takes the first bite.

(Tonic to major mediant. Push forward to half-diminished supertonic. Thrust into minor dominant. The progression is wrong, all wrong, defying every rule.)

Stealing comes easier after that.

(The people who wrote the rules are all dead, anyway.)

----

He realizes that he’s made a big mistake when the winged man - too big, too tall, wings stretched wide (no escape tone, no appoggiatura) - lands in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest. The man’s eyebrow rises up his face, and Wilbur isn’t shaking. He’s not.

(Plagal cadence. No way to move. Finality.)

This is his end. Wilbur drops his gaze; his knees shake.

A hand enters his vision. “Just give me the sword,” the man says with unquestionable authority in his voice. “Keep everything else. Give me the sword.”

The apple in Wilbur’s hand glitters brightly beneath the sword's soft purple glow. He’s never seen a gold apple before, but he’s sure that it’s valuable - maybe more valuable than the blade. He worries at his lip with his teeth.

The hand stretches slightly.

Wilbur drops the sword into its palm.

“Thank you,” the man says as he yanks the hand back. Wilbur watches with curiosity as the man carefully, worriedly, examines the blade with narrowed blue eyes. His shoulders visibly relax when the blade passes its inspection.

Wilbur wants to leave. He should leave, but he’s rooted firmly to the ground when the man swipes at the air experimentally with the suddenly very dangerous looking blade.

(Sharp. Very sharp. Ear-shatteringly sharp.)

The man nods and tucks the sword into a sheath hooked to his belt. He looks at Wilbur thoughtfully, his head cocking ever so slightly to the side. His blue eyes glitter beneath his green and white bucket hat. “You look hungry.”

Wilbur blinks.

“You’re hungry.” The authority is back, and Wilbur can’t help but follow obediently when the man motions for him to follow.

He gets a good meal and an even better full night of sleep for the first time in weeks.

The man, Philza, doesn’t comment when Wilbur trails after him the next morning, but the boy doesn’t miss the small smile on the man’s face as he makes camp for the night.

----

“Do you play?” Philza asks the second night, gesturing to the guitar at Wilbur’s feet with his spoon. Dinner is mushroom stew, again. Not that Wilbur is complaining.

Wilbur glances down at the guitar and lifts his eyes to stare at the man with his best wry expression.

Phil’s hand goes up in surrender. “Just curious, mate.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes, shoving another spoonful of soup into his mouth with a scowl.

“Y’know, you could play, if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind the music.”

Wilbur ignores the hopeful tone in his voice. He’ll play when he wants to, and not a minute sooner.

(But he wants it. He wants it so badly, the chords flashing through his mind - tonic, inverted supertonic, dominant - almost too quickly to catch.)

His fingers itch with the need to press against harsh wire for the rest of the night.

----

It’s the fourth night when he finally breaks.

(He plays a melancholic progression of A, f#m, and F7 just to spite Philza.)

His guitar hums softly over the crackling of their small campfire. Wilbur’s fingers ache painfully - he hasn’t played since that first night on his own - but the relief (D, A, D7) that he can even play without fear of attracting some mob overrides his sense of self-preservation. He needs the callouses, anyway, especially since he’s going to be playing more often.

(A, f#m, F7.)

If he’s going to be playing more often, he corrects mentally. If.

The twang of carefully tuned guitar strings rings in the quiet forest. Somewhere nearby, a cricket sings along. A soft breeze ruffles Wilbur’s curly brown hair.

Philza is careful to hide his smile when Wilbur looks his way. Wilbur pretends he doesn’t see it.

If.

(f#m, E, D, A.)

----

For some reason, Philza seems to take this as permission to start babbling at him as they walk the next day. Granted, the man had tried to make conversation multiple times in the past few days, but Wilbur had shut that down with non-verbal responses and lots of eye rolling.

Apparently, that tactic isn’t going to work anymore.

“Y’know, I’m quite surprised you haven’t asked where we’re going.”

Of course he hasn’t asked. He’s not sticking around to see Philza’s final destination.

“I’ve got a little cottage a couple days journey from here - right in the middle of the forest. I think you’d like it. Lots of little nooks and crannies for you to hide in.” Philza glances back at Wilbur, a soft, almost wistful, smile on his face. “And you’d like Techno, I think.”

Wilbur doesn’t bother to stifle his snort of disbelief. He’s not going to like this man’s cottage, and he’s certainly not going to like some person named Techno. Seriously, who hated their kid enough to name them Techno?

“If you want to join me the rest of the way, that is,” Philza adds quickly. “You can stay a few days, maybe get some food in you before you head out again?”

Even Wilbur has to admit that the man’s suggestion makes sense.

If his stomach rumbles in response, no one mentions it.

--------

The sound of wood cracking loudly behind Wilbur cuts through his mellow chord progression like it’s butter. His hands still as Philza shoots upright, his hand thrusting out in a stopping motion toward Wil.

Wait. The hand tells him. Let me take care of this.

A fuzzy feeling warms Wil’s chest. He feels… He isn’t sure what he feels.

Philza pulls his sword - purple, shimmering in the night, but not the one Wilbur stole, which still hangs in its sheath from his belt - from the other sheath on his waist and glares over Wil’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right back,” the man murmurs. His black wings flare out once before they tuck tightly at his back, and then Philza is noiselessly creeping around Wilbur.

He hears a moan behind him, a soft chk, and the sound of something thumping against crunchy brown leaves. There’s a soft sigh, and Philza walks back into view. Hideous green goop coats the deadly purple blade in his hand, but outside of that, there’s no indication that anything might have happened.

Philza settles back into a comfortable seated position. He smiles at Wilbur warmly, like there’s something Wilbur did in the past couple minutes that helped him. Wil raises a curious eyebrow.

“Zombie,” the man says with a shrug. “The adults aren’t a big deal, but the babies can be a bit of a problem if they catch you off guard.” His face scrunches in distaste as he looks off into the distance. “Learned that one the hard way,” he says bitterly. “Techno still hasn’t let me live it down.”

Wilbur isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond to this, so he returns to playing.

(D, G, A7.)

Philza’s expression softens. He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it after a moment of thought.

The feeling of warmth returns with a vengeance, and this time, Wilbur thinks he has an idea of what it might be.

He feels protected.

#mcyt fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #i think haha #wilbur soot #philza #dream smp #found family #work in process #sbi #sleepy bois inc #i have so many music nerd things in here #this shouldn't surprise anyone lol

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calumance · 4 years

Note

Ahhh I loved your last blurb!! Can I request a continuation or like another blurb with Aiden looking and acting like Calum? And possibly Aiden starting to own it that he looks like Calum so he’s more confident? And the reader taking pictures of the boys :D And Can I request another imagine where Cal is performing with the band and it’s a ritual for the kids to go see as many shows as they can with their cousins hehe and maybe this time Aiden brings along some friends ;) and he’s the cool friend

I combined this all into one thing, I hope you don't mind 🙈🙈 This is on the longer side, so hopefully I was still able to get everything you ask for into one! Also, Aiden owning the fact the he is Calum’s mini me would really mess with Mama’s mind. 😂😂

Calum had been on tour for far too long, and when you realized that today was the last day of the tour, it was like you were a kid on Christmas. You couldn’t sleep past six and you felt to antsy to do anything around the house. As you made yourself a pot of coffee, Aiden strolled through the kitchen. His hair a curly mess from sleep and his pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He tussled the back of his hair as he walked past you, “Morning, mom.” You froze when you looked at him. It was like you were looking at sixteen year old Calum. You mumbled a greeting back at him as he shut the fridge, holding a bottle of water. “Do you mind if I invite a few friends to dads show tonight? I’ve been talking it up to everyone at school, and this girl I really like wants to come and I’d love to hang out with her.” You nodded, still dumbfounded by the fact that you felt like you traveled back in time. “Thanks, mom! You’re the best!” He smiled and walked past you again and out of the kitchen. You shook your head and grabbed the pot of coffee, feeling as if drinking the whole thing would bring you back to reality.

It was later in the afternoon when you were walking through the house and caught the quiet hum on a bass guitar. You pulled your eyebrows together and headed down the hallway towards Calum’s studio. Your heart raced thinking that Calum had come home before the show, even though he had told you that he wasn’t going to have time to. You peaked through the crack in the door and saw Aiden sitting in Calum’s chair, holding onto Calum’s bass and playing along to the music that was playing through his headphones. “When did he learn to play the bass?” You asked yourself. You pushed the door open a little wider and looked at Aiden who made you feel like you were time traveling again. The doorbell rang and you let out a breath, “What year is it?” you asked yourself as you turned away from the studio to go answer the door.

You pulled the door open and were immediately greeted by young girl who had a bright and warm smile. “Hi, you must be Aiden’s mom. I’m Elizabeth, I go by Lizzy though.” Lizzy shrugged her shoulders and then held out her hand offering for a hand shake. You shook her hand and returned the smile, then invited her in. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Hood.”

“Thank you, let me take you back to Aiden, he has his headphones on.” You pointed down the hallway and Lizzy nodded. As you started walking, she followed behind you.

When you reached the door, you knocked and then opened the door. Aiden hadn’t heard the knock, but at the sight of the door opening, he stopped playing and took his headphones off, letting them hang around his neck just like Calum does when he’s writing and playing music. You ran your hand across your forehead still dumb founded by how much Aiden was starting to act and look like Calum. “Aiden, you didn’t tell me you played bass.” Lizzy said as she entered the room, amazed by the instrument sitting on his lap.

Aiden smirked the same way Calum does and you shook your head. “Yeah, my dad has been giving me lessons over FaceTime while he’s been gone.” You narrowed your eyes and smiled, that explained so much. As Lizzy sat in front of Aiden, he talked to her and smiled at her the same way Calum smiled at you when you first started dating. You blinked and turned to exit the room, leaving them by themselves. As you walked back down the hallway, you ran your hand up and down your cheek, thinking about how weird this day has been.

After a few more of Aiden’s friends showed up, everyone hopped into your car and you drove them to the venue. All three of your kids boasted about how great going to the show was going to be, as much as you agreed, all you cared about was seeing Calum. You’ve been with him for many, many years, but it never made him leaving and going on tour any easier. You pulled the car into the back lot and waved at the guard that had been part of the crew for as long as you could remember. The kids in the back seat gasping at the fact that they were getting the VIP treatment.

Once you were parked, all of the kids hopped out, Aiden guiding them through the door and directing them to the area all of his cousins usually hang out. “They’re not actually my cousins, but since I consider my dad’s friend’s uncles, I consider their kids my cousins.” Aiden shrugged and looked at Lizzy who was infatuated by every word coming out of his mouth. Aiden smirked and eyed Lizzy, “It’s easier.”

You adjusted Bailey on your hip and shook your head, still unsure of when Aiden became his father. “Mommy, I want to go see daddy.” Bailey said, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I know, me too, baby.” You smiled at her and found the closest person to you to take you to the dressing room. You watched as Logan trailed behind the group and disappear into the venue before you followed behind the crew member to the dressing room.

As the crew member knocked on the door, you set Bailey down on the ground and held onto her hand. Another crew member opened the door and ushered you inside, the boys too busy messing around to really notice you were there. As soon as Bailey caught sight of Calum, the entire room knew you were there, “Daddy!” she screeched in excitement and started running.

Calum could pick out Bailey’s voice anywhere, so the second he heard it, he spun around with a huge smile on his face. He squatted and held out his arms, awaiting for her to crash into him. The second she wrapped her arms around him, he wrapped his arms around her and started peppering her with kisses. “Oh, my baby, I missed you so much.” He said as he continued to kiss her, making her giggle. Calum’s eyes locked on yours and your stomach immediately filled with butterflies. Calum leaned away from Bailey to look at her completely. He reached up and ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. “Why don’t you go say hi to Uncle Luke so I can say hi to mommy, yeah?” Bailey nodded and Calum set her on the ground. As she took off yelling Luke’s name, Calum stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at you.

You shifted your weight between your feet until you couldn’t contain it anymore. You hastily took the steps towards him and grabbed either side of his face. His arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you close to him, your lips colliding. Talking on the phone and over FaceTime will never match up to feeling his hands on you. His hands trailed up your sides and you pulled away from his lips, smiling when you saw his brown eyes looking back into yours.

“Welcome home, handsome.” You whispered as you ran your finger nails up and down the back of his neck.

“Daddy,” Bailey’s voice was stern, and when you looked down, she was tugging on Calum’s pants. Calum squatted again to be at eye level with her. She leaned towards him and whispered something in his ear. Calum nodded and reached for her hand as he stood up. You pulled your eyebrows together and silently questioned him. He mouthed the word “bathroom” to you and you lifted your chin in understanding.

As it got closer to the time of the show starting, you walked Bailey out to Aiden who was surrounded by him friends and his cousins. You called Aiden’s name and when he looked at you, you motioned for him to come to you. He jogged over to you and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Can Bailey join you, you know how much she likes watching from out here.” Aiden didn’t even hesitate to say yes. He even reached out and grabbed her hand from you. You pulled your eyebrows together and Aiden kissed you on the cheek. Today really has been a weird day.

The show was an absolute hit with Aiden’s friends, and after the show was over, they all begged to come back to the house and hang out longer. You agreed with the notion that they all call their parents and tell them what was going on. After each kid got permission from their parents, everyone piled into the car and headed back to the house. Calum sighed as he walked through the front door, relieved that he was finally home. He put his hand on the small of your back and smiled down at you, his lips inching closer to yours. With Aiden entertaining all of his friends, maybe you and Calum would have the time to duck into the bedroom. Your lips were centimeters away from his when Aiden called for Calum. Calum turned towards Aiden and raised an eyebrow “I want you to meet Lizzy, she’s really excited to meet you.”

“Lizzy? Like Lizzy McGuire?” Calum laughed at his stupid joke, forgetting that Aiden was way too young to even know what Lizzy McGuire was.

Aiden’s eyebrows stitched together and he shook his head, “Who’s that? No, dad, Lizzy is the girl that I’ve been telling you about, remember? The one that I’ve been learning bass for.” Aiden raised his eyebrows.

Calum shook his head and looked at you. “Am I really that old?” You chuckled and nodded. Calum shook his head in disbelief and looked back at Aiden. “Alright, I’ll come out and meet her.” Calum let go of you and followed Aiden into the backyard where everyone had gathered around the firepit. Knowing that Calum would be out there for a while, you headed towards the bedroom to change and grab a book to read.

You had gotten about a third of the way into the book before Calum finally walked through the door. He let out a sigh and slowly crawled into bed next to you. You put your book down and let Calum sink his whole body into yours. He groaned with the sudden relaxation and you wrapped your arms around him, placing a kiss on the top of his head. You played with his hair for a minute before he lifted his head and placed his chin on your chest. “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you how much I missed you.” A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips and he pushed himself up and hovered over you to place a lustful kiss to your lips.

You hummed and pulled your lips away from his, causing him to pull his eyebrows together in confusion. “When did Aiden become you? Like, what’s with the bass and Lizzy and the fact that he literally looks exactly like you did when you were sixteen.”

Calum chuckled and rolled so that he was laying on his back, his head resting gently on your stomach. “Aiden called me a few months ago, telling me that he liked this girl, and he was mad because she always talked about how much she likes me. I told him that he’s basically a miniature version of me, he should own it. It was a week later that he asked me to start teaching him how to play the bass. I guess maybe he owned it a little too hard.” Calum turned his head to look at you and smiled.

You raised your eyebrows and laughed. “You think? I thought I time traveled today, today was such a weird day.” Calum laughed and looked back up at the ceiling. You ran your fingers through Calum’s hair and smiled at him. “Now, um, exactly how much did you miss me?” Calum turned his head towards you and popped up, placing his hands on either side of you, a smirk sitting on his lips. He pressed his lips against yours and almost immediately you melted into his touch.

************

Tag list: @mantlereid @notinthesameguey @viiirg0 @wheniminouterspace @thinkofmehlgh @another-lonely-heart @limer-encia @itsmytimetoodream @babyoria @treatallwithkindness

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goodbysunball · 3 years

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Ten weeks away, six beats off

Been a whirlwind year so far but I'm back in the saddle. I'm busting at the seams with drivel on records and the best way to unleash it is in these grouped posts. Small plates, quick bites - bon apétit.

Bobby Would, World Wide World (Low Company)

Can Low Company just come back as a label and a record store already? These releases trickling out after its demise are cruel reminders of how essential those self-effacing tastemakers were. The Anti-Clock LP is a doozy, and this second Bobby Would record sounds like a classic right off the bat. Mr. Would sticks to the same stuff that made Baby so damn good: dusty loops, barely discernible vocals with a catchy melody, bright spindly guitar lines for days. Songs like "Natural Killer" and "Walk Away" are the immediate favorites, upbeat on the exterior but bleary-eyed upon close inspection. Repeated listens have revealed that the hungover haze of "Maybe You Should" and the last call sway of "Raft," which might be my favorite, are where he really shines, tempos slowed to a crawl to make room for the rich warmth of his reverb'd mumble and his sparkling guitar. Yeah, I'm crushin' on Bobby Would, but so's everyone I've forced this record upon. Sharp but unassuming, and endlessly listenable, World Wide World is the balm until better days arrive. Top notch, highest recommendation, all the fixin's.

The Begotten, Temidden Laaghangende Wolken (Aguirre)

I'm a new dad and that means I'm searching for music that I can listen to with my daughter without disturbing her, and music that isn't Raffi. Typically that means a lot of drone, and a lot more quiet, introspective music, like the reissue of Lol Coxhill & Morgan Fisher's Slow Music that Aguirre did. Because the reissue job on that record is so good, I decided to roll the dice on a contemporary offering from Aguirre that also sounded like it fit my needs. My initial reaction to hearing the Begotten's music online was that this trio was approaching zones tread upon by Fabulous Diamonds circa Commercial Music, but subsequent listens have decidedly not taken me that far out. While it's clear the band is made up of exceptionally talented musicians, the music tends to be pretty safe and stays close to the shore. The B-side's a bit better: "Eiland Zonder Oceaan" and "60 Manen" are as close as this record gets to the "dub with tears" descriptor from the label, and the gossamer drone of closer "Klauwzeer" is cool, but nothing really sticks once it's over. Seems like these guys could probably freak out the crowd at a traditional jazz club, but Temidden Laaghangende Wolken keeps the listener at arms' length, simmering but ultimately tepid once you're beneath the surface.

Cube, Drug of Choice (Alter)

Fave record of the year so far! I caught Cube (aka Adam Keith) burning down the Pilot Light what seems like an eternity ago, touring on his last LP, Decoy Street. Nothing on that LP approached the fiery performance I saw, but he's definitely harnessed that energy on Drug of Choice. The record flows seamlessly, corroded breakcore flooding into all corners, causing machines to gasp and whirr and burst, and Keith's intermittent vocalizations are as sinister and biting as they are introspective and philosophical. "Natural Selector" has all of the above, but for my money it's the closing duo - the frenzy of "Moderator" and the terrifying strobelight beatdown of "Cusp" - that really show the piledriving exterior/groaning interior dichotomy that makes the record so magnetic. The label said it best: Drug of Choice "deliver[s] something that feels as much focused on artful constructions of private experiences as it does the cathartic qualities of noise." Alter's quietly releasing some of the best contemporary records, but Cube's Drug of Choice has all the right stuff to justifiably blow up their profile. Wildly intense and devious record; grip a copy and lose your mind with me. While you're at it, check out Adam Keith's amazing Baited Area zine - some of the most engaging arts 'n culture writing/interviews this side of Demystification.

The Gagmen, s/t (iDEAL)

Aaron Dilloway, Nate Young, Joachim Nordwall and apparently Andrew W.K. teamed up as the Gagmen for a performance a few years ago, captured here and put to wax by Nordwall himself for his iDEAL label. I was expecting a pretty blistering assault given the clientele, but what you get is the opposite: slow loops, spare instrumentation, Young's sleepy vocals, all stark and creepy and forcing you to lean into it. The end of the second track gets a little intense, with some wailing loop and white noise combining to tickle your ear hairs, but aside from those couple of minutes, the bulk of The Gagmen is like a black breezy night forcing things to move that usually don't. Puts a knot in your stomach, it does. Hey, it's not for everyone, but if you loved the Komare LP from last year like me, you're gonna find a lot to enjoy here.

Monokultur, Ormens Väg (ever/never)

Glad to see Monokultur continuing their relationship with ever/never, not least of all because those overseas shipping costs hurt. Ormens Väg is the Swedish duo's second LP, and right from the jump they're seemingly headed in a more accessible pop direction. It's a good look for them: opener "Decennium" features big warm keyboards and probably the most exposed vocals from the band yet, kinda coming across like the Knife covering Berlin. It's followed by my favorite track, "För sent," which has a bass line that melts and soothes your ears, topped by JJ Ulius' forlorn (I'm assuming) spoke-sung vocals. The band nods at an earlier incantation of themselves on the buzzed descent of "Kanske blir det sämre", but for the most part the rest of Ormens Väg continues in this gorgeous, warm and spare mode. Take the beautiful instrumental "Vårdagjämning," which almost sounds like it was lifted from the xx's cutting floor until the tape loops emerge like swirling smoke to cloud the proceedings. By the track's end the band somehow ends up on Robert Turman's turf but everything feels cohesive, all of it delicately presented. Shit, even the snippet of "Silent Night" emerging at the end of the title track doesn't take the record off course. Pretty much perfect little record, and yet another early favorite from this year.

Nina Harker, s/t (Animal Biscuit/La République des Granges/Le Syndicat des Scorpions)

This record came out in the middle of 2020, but I missed it then and it's a current obsession now. Shoutout to @dustedandsocial, Yellow Green Red, Fuckin' Record Reviews and everyone else who pointed me in its direction, late as I may be. I don't have a whole lot of info on Nina Harker but it appears that it's the work of one Valentin Noiret, some mad multilingual genius working between the lines connecting Dome, La Grande Triple Alliance and Enhet För Fri Musik. "L'affreuse" is pretty illustrative of how Nina Harker condenses genres into bite-size packets: the woozy, seasick synth topped by Xasthur-like vocals, which are then joined by what sounds like despairing Japanese, the shuffling song slowly building up to this terribly simple guitar part that just levels you when it hits. Not everything is so busy: "Müssen Wir Noch Aufblühen⁇" is a fantastic slice of minimal synth, and the two late night strummers "το κορίτσι γαβγίζει" and "Muto" are disarming in their stripped-down simplicity. The hum that overwhelms "Muto" razes the field to make way for the robotic waltz and maniacal ravings on "Du Schaffst es Nicht," one of many catchy, totally bizarre moments on the record. Nina Harker is riddled with anxiety, moving from frenzied to haunting without batting an eye, but it's also an absolutely singular approach to the dread and restlessness lurking in the corners. Perhaps more prescient than they would've guessed when they made this record. Stunning, hits the spot every time, track down a copy posthaste.

#Bobby Would #The Begotten #Cube #The Gagmen #Monokultur #Nina Harker #Low Company #Alter #ever/never records

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter nine: yellow tulip

“I can’t believe that,” Zelda groaned.

It was ten minutes before Legacy was about to take to the stage, and Zelda had to take a seat behind their set to better take in the news. Sam, Marla, and Aurora had been there all day in anticipation of her and also Metallica's arrival in the audience. There was already a small crowd that congregated out there, but they needed a moment alone, away from the noise. She rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers and closed her eyes. Her black hair blanketed the side of her face so Sam and Aurora couldn’t see into her eyes.

“I can’t—fucking—believe that,” she muttered in a broken voice.

“It’s okay—he’s gonna be in good hands with Exodus,” Aurora promised her; after Marla had said about them, Sam knew her words only came to soothe the feeling.

“Yeah, I mean—” Sam hesitated in search of the right words. “—it's like he's dead, too, Zelda. He's just gonna be in another room. Maybe he'll be right next door to them.”

“It's not gonna be the same, though,” Zelda insisted as she raised her head. “It's just—not gonna be the same without him.” She shook her head and rested her sinewy elbows upon her slender knees. Sam rested a hand on her shoulder: even though her black hair spread across part of her face, she could see the disappointment in Zelda's eyes.

“We'll have to enjoy every last minute, then,” she remarked.

“It's the only way, you know,” Sam pointed out.

“It really is,” Aurora chimed in.

“Every last minute of Zetro's singing,” Zelda said in a soft voice, “every last note—every last part of it. Just right there. Just right within my ears.”

Without another word, she climbed to her feet so she could look at both Sam and Aurora in the eye. She tucked a lock of jet black hair behind her ear: those eyes were dry and yet Sam could see it within her. She also noticed a little orange ear plug tucked snugly right in her ear.

“Let's go see them,” Zelda declared, “you ladies have protection?”

Aurora reached into her shorts pocket and took out a handful of those same orange ear plugs, and Sam took two for herself. Once they were closed off from the loud noises of the world, Zelda led the way to that one part of the floor, right front of the stage. Louie had already taken his seat behind the drum kit, and his jet black hair shone under the soft golden light of the overhead lights. He held his drum sticks down behind his snare drum, out of sight. He flashed Zelda a thumbs up and she nodded at him in return. Sam huddled closer to her so she could see his youthful little face in between his yellow hi-hat and the raggedy toms.

Greg emerged from the left side of the stage with his bass already slung over his shoulder: he almost somersaulted into his spot in front of the three girls, and it made Aurora burst out laughing at him.

“Do that again and we'll vote on it,” Zelda called out to him, and Louie burst out laughing. Eric surfaced from the left side, followed by Zetro and then Alex. Zetro made his way to the microphone in the middle of the floor: he glanced about the floor before him with a twinkle in his eye. Sam then felt a tap on her shoulder: she turned her head only to be met with Marla waving at her.

“Oh, hey!” Sam greeted her.

“Nice little crowd we got here,” he remarked: his voice echoed throughout the tiny club. “Better than it has been lately, too.” Sam brought her gaze over to Alex, who had picked up a little black guitar and adjusted the strap so it was closer to his chest.

“Anyways, we are Legacy,” Zetro continued, “buncha California dudes who walked right out of a Bela Lugosi movie opening for our pals Anthrax here in their home turf. This song is called 'Over the Wall'.” Sam could hear it in his voice: he was ready to make his exodus.

Eric took one step forward and let his fingers do the talking. Alex joined in like clockwork; Greg's bass thundered through the floor and all through Sam's bones. His bass tone was big and heavy that it made her bones rattle, as if he tickled her. Louie put his head down such that his black hair sailed behind his head like the tentacles of an octopus. Zetro held onto the microphone stand and pinched his eyes shut.

The three of them were met with a wall of sound, such that Aurora huddled closer to Sam and Zelda. It wasn't as big as it could be but Sam knew they could play in a much larger venue from that point on out. Marla stepped her way through the little bit of crowd towards her left side. Within time, she leaned in closer to her, and Sam realized she was looking at something.

“His guitar is too big for this room.” Even with the ear plugs in, Sam could still hear Marla say that, and she brought her face closer to follow her gaze. She lowered her eyes onto Alex and then she took a glimpse over at Marla, who watched him with stars in her eyes and her expression in awe of him. Sam kept her gaze fixated on his long slender fingers on the frets. He moved about the strings so slowly and yet the sound he made with them was indeed so big and vast. It was as if he painted on canvas with the very sound of the guitar.

From there, she knew this young boy was an artist.

He raised his head and flipped his little fine black curls back away from his face, and the tiny gray sliver shone bright under the lights: a little pearl the size of a nickel up against the helmet of black about his head. He bowed his head again in time for his solo.

“He's just too big for the room,” Sam followed up, which in turn brought a laugh out of Marla. She watched him in awe as his fingers switched about the nylon strings like little baby eels. He played as though he was about to make a king cobra rise up through the floor boards next to him. He never moved from his stance there on the floor but he did kick his hair back with a flick of his head. He let his tongue slither out from between his lips, much like a snake.

Zetro stepped forward and belted into the microphone yet again.

Marla turned her head to Sam to show her the twinkle in her eyes.

“He's going to go far playing like that,” Marla remarked, and she sounded a mile away. “Sixteen year old baby and it looks and sounds like he's been playing for twice that long!”

“Kinda makes you want to see more from him, doesn't it?” Sam asked her over Zetro's shrieking, to which Marla nodded at her. Zelda reached her hands out to him as if about to touch him. Louie hit the big cymbals and Zetro leaned forward to give her a high five.

The next one was “Alone in the Dark”, and a song whereby Alex bowed his head and led the way. He moved forward just like Eric in the previous one and he stood right next to Zetro.

Aurora turned her head to Sam and Marla.

“I like this one,” she declared over the wall of sound.

“I do, too,” Sam replied right in her ear. “Even though it's still real hard and fast, there's something weirdly innocent about this song.”

“It's like a fantasy novel,” Marla added. Zelda nodded her head along with Louie's steady drumming: every so often, he glanced over at her and nodded along with her. Greg stood at the edge of the stage with his head bowed so he gazed down at the four girls. A pocket of Alex's dark hair cast a shadow over his head and shoulders so they could hardly see his face or the little sliver at his forehead. He had turned away from the crowd by the time he let out his solo. He stood there, with his legs spread apart and his head bowed, like a little wizard who created something for the audience to drink up, to help open their minds.

Legacy played one more song before Zetro blew a kiss to the crowd and Zelda reached out to him yet again, that time to take his hand. He mouthed something to her but Sam couldn't hear him over the orange pieces nestled in her ears.

Alex disappeared into the shadows before anyone could grab his attention, and Louie and Greg hustled after him. Eric was the only one who lingered behind with his guitar leaned against the speaker for a ribbon of distorted feedback.

“So dark and violent!” Aurora joked, and the feedback abruptly stopped, which allowed the noise of the crowd to flow over them.

Within a few minutes, Charlie emerged from the shadows and took a seat behind the drum kit. Frank followed with his big black bass over his shoulder, and then Dan with his shirt on his head and a white flying V over his little bare body. Scott and Joey rounded them out, the latter of whom waved at the four girls down below with both hands and a big goofy smile plastered on his face. Sam noticed a wide silvery metal bracelet on his right wrist.

“We're home, New York!” Scott proclaimed through the microphone, and he hustled over to the right side of the stage for his guitar.

“The boys are back in town!” Joey shouted into the microphone head. “The boys are back in the fucking town!” Sam gazed on at Joey's slender body as he held onto the stand with his left hand and the microphone itself with his right. It was then she had an idea. She turned to Aurora and gestured at her purse.

“Do you have your camera?” she asked her, to which Aurora shook her head.

“Not on me, no,” she replied in a muffled voice.

“Ah, damn it—” Sam was cut off by Scott's grinding guitar in front of them. She recognized that riff. It was the song they played for her the first time! She clapped her hands and almost jumped for joy right then. Charlie's drums pounded so hard that it knocked the wind out of her. Frank's bass rumbled like an earthquake. Dan's guitar screeched into the room, the same vastness and power as Alex's guitar.

And then there was Joey. His high operatic voice filled up the place, such that Sam found herself breathless by that addictive chorus: “it's a madhouse!” She tried to sing along but her voice vanished into the wall of sound before them. She could feel the crowd behind them moving and pulsating about.

“We're at the very edge of the mosh pit!” Zelda shouted. “Holy shit—ow!” Someone's sandaled foot beaned her right in the back of the head.

“Oh, damn, you alright?” Aurora yelled back to her; Sam couldn't hear her, and thus she returned to Joey. His black curls streamed behind his head even though there was no breeze in there. He was like a dark prince, a man of shadow straight out of the cavernous woods of upstate New York. If Alex was the sorceror, Joey was the man in the castle.

The curls atop his head even resembled to that of a crown.

Scott stomped about in his big black Doc Marten boots, and his thick black hair covered his face so Sam couldn't see his thick eyebrows. Meanwhile, Dan stood off to the left with his face serene and the little light tufts of hair standing on end like a crown itself. Every so often, Frank flicked his head back so his hair sailed up and then landed back down on his shoulders. He pointed at Marla, who cheered back at him and he showed her a big grin.

Legacy were fierce, dark, and poetic, but Anthrax were bright and colorful despite their own darkness as well. And much like the set before them, they only played three songs, the last of which Joey leaned back and brought the microphone to his lips and let out the longest, highest note Sam had ever heard from him. He did it a few times, the last of which was so high that she could see his stomach muscles tightening up under his shirt and a wave of chills swept over her. Aurora and Marla gaped at each other and Zelda shouted “oh my fucking god!” at the top of her lungs.

He was like an opera singer: this little dark skinned Indian boy with a voice straight out of the Italian opera. He held the microphone stand away from his body so he stood there with his arms spread out in a crucifix shape. The wall of sound around them was utterly deafening, and Sam was a part of it all.

The noise. The feeling. The standing right there at the edge of the mosh pit with her girl friends. There was nothing like it.

The four girls bustled past the railing and made their way after the five of them into the backstage area, away from the crowd and away from the energy behind them. Frank clapped his hands and Dan gave his hair a toss back.

Sam took the plug out of her right ear and brought a hand to it given the sharp sound around her.

“Oh, jesus,” she muttered.

“You alright?” Dan asked her.

“More than alright,” she replied, and she looked into his sparkling eyes. She realized she never really spoke much to Dan.

“Good show, and I'm glad you girls could make it, too!” Frank declared.

“There was no way we could miss this,” said Marla as she took out her ear plugs.

It was right then Sam realized something was missing.

“Wait a minute, Cliff never showed,” she said in a broken voice.

“Yeah, he did,” Frank told her. “Louie said he and James were both near the back. I saw him, too. By the looks of it, it looked like he was lookin' for you, too. He was dressed real nice.”

“Aw!” Sam's heart skipped several beats right then.

“Better go catch him, Sam,” Frank continued as he ran his fingers through his lush hair, “he looked a little disappointed.” He broke a little bit of a smile at her when he said that. And without another word, Sam doubled back to side of the stage.

“We'll be back here!” Marla called after her. She rounded the corner to find most of the crowd had dissipated back outside, and Cliff's wide brimmed hat was nowhere to be found. Sam stepped outside in search for him. Night had fallen over Brooklyn, but the street lights cast that orange light that she knew what to look for through the darkness.

Nowhere to be seen. She fetched up a sigh and she walked past a man with a blunt full of marijuana and a girl across from him, right there on the sidewalk. She peered around the corner to the dark alleyway. No one there.

She doubled back through the cloud of pot smoke and peered around the corner that time. Still no one there. Sam stood there on the sidewlk with her hands pressed to her hips.

Maybe he was all the way around the other side. Indeed, she returned back inside of the club, across the empty floor in search of him. She pushed open those doors, only to be met with more orange light and nobody on the sidewalk.

“God damn it,” she groaned. “Shit...” She doubled back into the club and returned to the little nook of a backstage area. Zelda, Aurora, and Marla all had taken their seats on a lumpy couch pressed against the wall and Dan and Frank were helping themselves to cups of water.

“D'you find him?” Marla asked her, to which she shook her head.

“Oh, man!” Frank declared. “I'm sorry, Sam.”

“Nah, it's alright,” Sam told him, “I was just so caught up in the moment that I forgot he told me he was gonna be here.” She peered about the nook. “Where's Joey, Scott, and Charlie?”

“In the next room,” Dan replied as he handed her a little cup of water. “Joe's dunkin' his head in ice water, and Scott and Charlie are getting things to eat.”

“The dudes from Legacy just bounced, too,” Frank added. “Just got in their van and boogied—so you just missed them, Zelda. Something about getting to Jon and Marsha's house before they turn it in for the night, and Louie getting back to the building before the doors lock, or some shit, I forget.”

“Zetro told me to meet up with him tomorrow,” Zelda replied as she ran her hand over the back of her head, “at least that's what I think he said to me.” She groaned and grimaced at the feeling. “I got kicked in the head.”

“Yeah, I saw that!” Dan told her; Sam took her seat on the arm of the couch next to Marla.

“I'm a drummer, though,” Zelda insisted. “I can take a lot before it really gets to me.”

“A drummer paying Louie Clemente's rent,” Frank joked, and the bunch of them laughed. Right then, Joey stumbled into the room, with his black curls soaked wet and his dark lips twisted into a tight grin.

“Hey, there are my girls!” he said in a loud voice.

“Joey, I had no idea you sang like that,” Sam declared.

“You should hear him in a bigger place,” Frank told her. “He just sings to the heavens.”

Joey made his way over to the couch and took a seat right next the arm: he sat right in front of Sam with his slender legs crossed. His black curls glistened from the ice cold water in the next room, and a single droplet trickled down the side of his face. She could already smell the hops from the beer on his breath.

“I'm so glad we could get here,” he said to her with a few little breaks in his voice.

“Get here in a new car no less,” she pointed out.

“I'm gonna need you to drive, too,” he stated with a flat look on his face.

“Not a problem,” she answered with a shake of her head and a shrug of the shoulders. “I can totally do that.”

“As long as you don't barf,” Zelda pointed out.

“I'd be more worried about Scott and Billy barfin' while in the car,” Dan told her before he took a sip of water. “Joe just has kind of—sort of—a little bit of a hard time holding down his liquor.”

Sam thought about the few times she had seen Joey drink and let it overcome him. She wondered how much he had took in just then, and she frowned at the very thought, especially after her feeling down his body and his hair. He was soft to the touch, and the booze seemed to take that away from him. She didn't want to fix him, but she wanted to find a way to get him away from that lest something happen to his little body.

Charlie called Joey, Frank, and Dan into the next room: he had pushed back his curls from his face, and thus showed off the fine beads of sweat under his eyes and along his forehead.

“Marla's man was workin' extra hard tonight,” Aurora remarked.

“Yeah, I was!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “It was—being here, being back home in New York and at L'Amour.” He shrugged his fine shoulders. “I just had to go hard and fast tonight.”

Joey tried to stand to his feet by himself but he almost lost his balance and fell right on the seat of his skinny jeans. He giggled and extended a hand to Dan and Sam, both of whom helped him up. He raised a finger at her.

“I'll be—” he hiccuped, “—I'll be right back.”

Sam returned to her spot on the arm of the couch and she watched him stagger after Dan and Frank into the next room.

“Can't hold his liquor,” Marla recalled.

“I know,” Sam said, thoughtful, “I once told him I don't really like the idea of him drinking so much because it can do a number on him.”

“Oh, yeah.” Marla nodded her head at her.

“I'm also gonna have to call Cliff tonight, too. That just kills me.”

“In your defense, Sam, we were all in the heat of the moment,” Zelda pointed out as she ran her fingers through her black hair. “I missed Zetro by about twenty minutes.”

“And that was just because they had to go,” Aurora chimed in.

“They had to go and I'm gonna have to talk to Louie, too...”

Joey returned with a red cup in hand and a smile on his face.

“You wanna go home, don't ya?” Sam asked him.

“Go home and take a shower,” he replied as he guzzled down whatever was in the cup. He gave his black curls a toss back and kept the smile firmly plastered across his face.

“You just got your hair wet,” Aurora pointed out.

“That ain't a shower, though!” he chuckled as he took one last swig of it. Sam stood to her feet and adjusted the bottom of her shirt.

“I'll see you ladies later,” she said.

“I just might have a new hair color when you see me again,” Marla told her with a wink.

Sam and Joey returned outside, where they were greeted by not only another cloud of pot smoke but the aroma of sage burning.

“Yow-za,” he blurted out as they walked past that little circle on the sidewalk. Sam led him through the darkness back to his car, where he almost collapsed right into the front seat. She took her spot in the driver's seat and held still. The silence in the car made her ears ache a bit.

“You got the key?” she asked him.

“I do,” he replied.

“Where is it?”

“It's—it's—hang on a second...” Joey patted down his slender legs and then he reached into his back pocket. He showed her the key ring and she took it for herself.

They rolled out of the parking lot and returned to the streets: lucky for them, the crowd in the club had cleared out quickly, and thus, they only had a bit of the late night traffic to deal with.

“I'm gonna have to call Cliff when we get home, too,” she declared. “I can't believe I missed him.”

“I mean, he did kiss you,” Joey pointed out as he sank down in his seat.

“He did! And he asked me out to that show, too. I have to tell him.”

“Well, remember—we are playin' a second night tomorrow. You can catch up with 'em tomorrow night when we all meet up again for a second time.”

“That's true...” Her voice trailed off and they fell into silence as they made their way towards the freeway.

“By the way, Marla and I really like that Alex kid,” she said. “The lead guitarist in Legacy.”

“Oh, he's from another planet,” he replied with a bit of a slurring to his speech. “He and Danny both.” He hiccuped and lowered his chin to his chest. She peered over at him and his drooping eyelids.

“Just the way he stood there was so—serene. Real dark music but it was like he was beckoning something from the floor.” She peered over at him. “By the way, are you feeling alright? You don't look good.”

“Charlie called me back to the room there for sump'n and I can't remember what—I went back there to get another cup of beer 'cause there wasn't really much to eat there. And I remember us talkin' about the whole thing with the booze but...”

“It's the spur of the moment,” she finished.

“Sweat—fun—that's what it's all about for me, even if it means cuttin' loose for a bit. I gotta say that it's nights like this where I can't really help myself.”

“Joey, I don't know if it's the rush of adrenaline wearing off, but—” She stopped, and he turned his head for a look over her.

“But what?” he asked her.

“After tonight, I strangely feel—a lot closer to you,” she confessed. “I feel like I've seen another side to you. A side beyond what I've done in my art journal and what I've done for you in that alleyway.” She drummed her fingers on the edge of the steering wheel.

“And I dunno if it's the booze talkin' but—I feel closer to you, too.”

“And if I must confess...” She glanced over at him again, that time to look over his black curls, made even darker and fuller in appearance by them being wet. He took another glimpse at her.

“What's that?”

“I need to feel your hair again,” she declared.

“Why, you wanna get yourself lost in it?” he teased her.

“Not necessarily,” she replied. “I just need to feel the texture of it at the roots especially.”

She looked over at him again, at those jet black curls: every so often the lights from the city shone through the window onto them and they glistened like little embers from a fire.

“These curls are so thick and lush,” she muttered, “and coarse. And soft, all at the same time. They're everything and nothing. They're so—they're so—”

“Curly?” Joey asked her with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Curly is an understatement,” she quipped, and he chuckled at that.

Within the hour, they had returned to her building in the Bronx. Despite his word, Joey collapsed on the couch and fell asleep within mere seconds. It was late after all, and Sam knew there was no way she could call Cliff right then. Thus, she took a shower and turned in for the night herself.

Despite the rush of adrenaline and it being such a late hour, she could scarcely fall asleep. Cliff remained firm in her mind, the image of a tall man seated in a spindly chair with his bell bottoms spread wide over his pointed black leather boots and his black wide brimmed hat rested upon the crown of his head. He rested the side of his head against the backs of his knuckles and he gazed on at her. He waited for her. He was ready for her.

She couldn't stop thinking about him, even when the sun arose over the Bronx and she headed into the next room for a pot of coffee and a bite of breakfast. Joey had rolled over onto his stomach and let his right hand dangle down to the floor. She squatted down to examine that silver bracelet: just a flat, smooth rectangle of metal that hugged his wrist, but she wondered where he had gotten it from.

He awoke at ten thirty and he was eager to head back to the club for a second round.

“You sure you're up for it, Joey?” Sam asked him as they bustled back outside and towards his car parked at the curb. “You barely ate anything just now and you look really hungover.”

“I gotta,” he insisted as he slid into the passenger seat. “I woke up late—it'd be like wakin' up late for a class.” She fetched up a sigh as she put on her sunglasses and rounded the front end to the driver's door.

That time around, Alex had taken a seat outside of the side door with his guitar cradled in his lap. His sunglasses obscured his eyes from them, but his stoic expression never changed as Joey climbed out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo—” He was cut off by his own vomiting right on the sidewalk, right in front of him.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, man!” Alex scrambled to his feet and scurried away from there before Sam could get a word in. Joey spat and groaned at the feeling: he rested his hands on his knees and breathed hard. Zetro and Cliff emerged from the side door just then: the former gasped.

“Fuckin'-A, Joey, did the room clear out?” he declared.

“Get him something to eat!” Sam ordered him. “He woke up like an hour ago and he was insistent on it.”

“Yes, ma'am!” Zetro put his arm around Joey's back and guided him into the club. Meanwhile, Cliff turned to her: he wore that wide brimmed hat once again and he held a little yellow tulip in hand. Sam swallowed and she gingerly stepped onto the curb, and she stood right in front of him.

“I can't believe I missed you last night,” she confessed, to which he handed her the tulip. “And—I'm really sorry I did.” To which he shook his head.

“Don't be,” he told her in a low voice. “If anything, it was actually my fault. I called your place yesterday to say I was gonna be here late but—when I never got an answer, I just thought, 'oh, she's probably there already. I'll look for her.'”

“I tried looking for you, but—I didn't see you anywhere,” she confessed. “Frankie saw you, but by the time he told me, you were already gone.”

“Yeah, Lars was hungry,” he explained. “Again, don't be sorry. Be happy that we're here right now for a second shot.”

“And here I am,” she told him as she held the tulip close to her chest.

“And here we are,” he echoed as he leaned in for a kiss on her lips.

4 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 4 years

Text

Rosie & the Road Less Traveled

Characters: Declan Harp x Rosie Anderson (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp 1970s Hippy/Roadtrip AU Rosie has made a bold decision and decided to leave her monotonous life. She sets out to create her own with a group of misfits traveling across America, post-Vietnam during the 1970s. She breaks out of her shy and insecure, sheltered shelf to have an adventure where she learns the realities of life outside her former cookie-cutter existence. She experiences, a year of sex, drugs, and rock and roll as the group of ex-soldiers and free spirits change her worldview and show her another way. She meets the charming but damaged Declan who takes her under his wing. Will a budding romance for this blossoming Rose prove to be her gift from the universe for making the hard decision to be her own woman?

Warnings/Tags: Talk of emotional abuse by family.

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

Rosie awoke in the same pink and frill filled bedroom she had every day of her life so far. She could smell the same coffee she wasn’t allowed to have. The scent filled up their Better Homes and Gardens modeled modest family home settled in a suburb full of pastel houses with the same pastel cars in their driveway. It was polished and performative, just like Rosie’s mother who was standing in her doorway looking like a copy of June Cleaver.

“You’ll be late for John to pick you up! Don’t keep a man waiting! A wife must be preemptive and pretty dear.” She exits as quickly as she’d entered. Rosie is left looking to her favorite childhood toy and only friend, Booger Bear, with a sigh before starting her day. Not much had changed in Rose Anderson’s life since she was a child. She was raised by older parents, very strict and traditional. Which would explain why they’d agreed to her engagement so fervently. She was 24 and unmarried and being a spinster was not an option according to them. So she was having yet another huge life decision made for her by someone else. She couldn’t remember the last time she had held her own opinion or made up her own mind. She had fear instilled within her from a young age that she was less than and this was used to keep her under control. Being different as she was with her ghostly white skin and pale blonde hair, her albinism stood out among her peers. She wore glasses and a constantly apologetic look on her face. Her childlike treatment was clear on her face as her features were baby round. A button nose and large light blue eyes with cheeks that always had a flush to them showed her softness unwillingly. She truly did look like a baby animal, naive, and easy prey.

This was a common theme among the treatment she’d had from men so far in her life. She didn’t expect any different. Her mother had cried tears of relief when George had asked for her hand. She would finally be able to tell her bridge club that her daughter had at least something normal going on about her. The cruel and belittling words she’d heard her whole life only made sense to continue hearing from this new person that would now be in charge of her she was told. If nothing had changed in her life up to this point, why would it ever?

The fact that George never showed didn’t surprise her. So when she went into town to run wedding errands on her own she wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. He usually disappears at night and not in the morning so that was unusual but she went through her day with the same polite smile she always did. A smile that said sorry for existing. She called her home from the library, offering to see if her mother needed anything for supper. She hadn’t but she had heard from George’s mother, and she hadn’t seen him either. So it was now Rosie’s job to find him, as they’d be married soon.

She sat defeated on a bench to rest as the sun started to set. She’d asked at the stores on the square and no one had seen him. Luckily for her, she’d sat down in front of the Beauty Parlour and it being a small town, everyone knows everyone, one of the ladies there knew who sweet little odd Rosie was and took pity on her.

“I know it’s not my place to say so baby but that man of yours is no count. You know that right?”

“I’m sorry ma'am?”

“You were in town all day today alone, doin' your dress and all that right? For the wedding?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And he’s been across county lines getting drunk as a skunk.” She shakes her head. “Again.”

“Oh.” Rosie sighs and looks to the ground. “Do you know where he is?” She asks reluctantly.

“No where no sweet thing like you needs to be goin'.”

“I need to get him home. His mother’s worried.”

“She should be. Ain't your mama worried about you out here alone?”

“She said I have to do real women’s work and take care of George as best I can. He’s mine now and I better start acting like it and go… find him.”

The kind woman sighs and feels bad for the poor thing. But it wasn’t an uncommon story. “He’s out at the bar past the county line. Neon sign, bikes out front, can’t miss it. It’s on the right.” She says with a groan.

“Up 25E?” She asks already getting to her feet.

“Yes, baby now be careful. I’m only telling you this because someone’s gotta help you out, honey. Maybe it’s time you helped yourself huh?”

“I’m doing what any good wife and daughter would do ma'am.”

“Life’s not about being good for other people. You have to think about what’s good for you. What do you want? Do you want to marry George?”

“Ma'am what a silly question.”

“That’s not the enthusiastic YES I should be hearing from a bride to be is it?”

Rosie doesn’t know how to reply and just looks worried for a moment with her wide eyes.

“Go before it gets darker baby. Be careful. Take care of yourself.” She says as Rosie scurries across the square to the car.

She did love getting to drive around. Something she’d not been allowed to do until recently. So a trip out of town on a lovely evening was something that got her very excited.

She had held onto that moment of happiness as she drove out of town. A perfect evening with a chill after the sun went down. She could hear frogs and crickets as she left the roads full of cookie-cutter homes and drove into a more forested area.

She had a comfortable smile on her face until the trees cleared for a patch and showed a roadhouse. This had to be the place. She pulled in with a mix match of very nice and very beat down cars. Some buses and small caravans lined along the perimeter. She could hear music coming from inside the metal and wood walls. There were men three times her size all around. They were an odd mix of trendy sleazy men with feathered hair and grizzly biker men and they were all chain-smoking. Everyone looked as confused as she did as she entered the building. If she was polite and direct there was no reason these gentlemen had to give her any trouble. She’d heard about these sorts from her mother. Bikers, greasers, all sinners, and a dirty lot to associate with.

But Rosie had always seen glimpses of people in the magazines. The intense men on their bikes with a scantily clad woman who looked both elated and aroused clutched to his back as they rode through the great American Route 66. They looked like they were having fun, she thought. She thought they looked free and those were things she longed to know how they felt. But there was no room for these things in her life. So although she should be afraid to be around these people, she was actually quite excited. She fantasized with already blushed shy cheeks about striking up a conversation with one of them and finding out what they were really like.

“You lost sweetheart?” The man in glasses with his arms crossed at the door asks her.

“I’m here to fetch my husband- my fiancé.” She corrects herself.

“You with a man that comes to a place like this?”

“His name is George. He is a fan of a strong drink and a cigar. And apparently, his frequenting of this place is something everyone in the town knew about but me.” she admits freely as she wasn’t one to have any reason to hide bits of herself. Everyone could be a friend in her eyes. She entered every interaction with a genuine curiosity it was honestly a bit hard to be rude to her.

“Ah.” He nods and understands. “Go on in, sweetheart” he holds open the door for her and watches her stand and take it all in for a moment. He chuckles and then sighs, “Poor little thing.” he mutters.

Through an old western saloon style inner door she enters with a delighted smile. “How charming!” She says to herself. She walked into a rather large room full of gambling tables. A bar on one end and a stage on the other. Panning over to meet the stage last, she’s hit with a thump of bass in her chest by way of her feet. It rumbled into the floor as she tentatively approached. She’d never seen live music before. She supposed choir and church and talent shows didn’t really count. There were electric guitars and men with no shirts and girls without bras and she was enthralled. She had heard a few rock songs by way of sneaking into a poor reception radio station when she was left alone in the car. She loved it. But it was something only classless people were apart of. Or so she was told. But these people looked the same as those in the magazines. A very tall and dark man played the instrument causing her to experience a very pleasant vibration through her body. He was shirtless and sweating and had a large tattoo on his arm. A chain from his worn dark jeans that bounced with every pluck of his long fingers. Next to him a smaller man, pale and singing with delightfully large blonde curly hair. He sang beautifully she thought. He wore a shirt unbuttoned and tucked into pants so tight she could see a bulge that ripped her from her fantasy of being as cool and free as they were. She turns around quickly and moves towards the bar.

She finds George in his work clothes, the navy not being blotched by black oils and spills told her he also hadn’t been to work. She wears her disappointment in her face clearly for a moment before trying to put on that mask her mother taught her to wear. Never show him that you’re upset. Anger is unseemly on a lady. But this did make her angry. Her red face made it obvious she was holding in red hot emotion. Her smile was hollow and her eyes gave her away.

“Hello, George. I believe it’s time we got home.” She says with a hand to his shoulder.

“How’d you find me here?” He asks with a dramatic turn on his bar stool, and he was in true skunk form.

“A person in town suggested it. Your mother is worried about you. Can we please go home?”

“You can. I’m staying here.”

“Please George I have to get you home. Both our parents expect me to take care of you and that’s what I’m doing.”

“What if I don’t want you to take care of me? Huh? What if I don’t want anything to do with you?”

Her throat felt tight. She was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way since she was bullied when she was young. The eyes she could feel on her from a growing audience he was causing made her feel all tingly and nervous. He looked at her with disgust and the shame she usually felt was quickly turning into anger in this new over-stimulating environment.

“Do you think I want to be here?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think I wanted to run all the errands myself today for my own wedding? And make excuses for your absence all day and have people look at me with pity. Because they knew you were here. Again from the looks of you.”

“Well, I’m only here because of YOU.” He spits back.

“Me?” She squeaks with growing confidence that makes her take a deep breath and steady herself. “I have been nothing but an ideal fiancé from the beginning of this. YOU asked for this. Not me.”

“I didn’t ask for it! You did!”

They both looked at each other confused. “I was told you asked for my hand.”

“Hell no my parents told me I had to say yes to your parents offer or they’d cut me off and send me to the army.”

They both blink at each other for a moment. “This is…” she takes a shaker breath. “I’m in an arranged marriage.” She whispers and feels a betrayal deep in her chest. She’d been lied to. Her parents lied, her fiancé lied, the whole town and only one person has the decency to tell her where George was. It hurt like a knife might she thought as her hands held fast to her stomach.

“Are you like...retarded too? Ugh geez. Of course, it is! Why would I want to be with a freak like you?”

It’s as if he’d culminated every fear she’d ever had into a single sentence. All her thoughts of not fitting in, of something being wrong with her. She’d been right all along. “Well, I don’t want to be with a mean drunk like you!” She says back with a face that showed her first real emotion in years.

“I am not a drunk.”

“Yes you are! The whole town gossips about it behind your back. Your parents threaten to send you off if you don’t start acting like an adult. You try to take advantage of ME when I’ve never been anything but nice to you! You are MEAN and you are a DRUNK!”

He moves fast and grabs hold of her arms tightly. Enough to make her cry out and wince. “You listen here you little freak of nature. If you’re gonna be with me you’re gonna respect me as a good wife would.”

“Is there a problem here?” The same tall man from the stage asks, towering over George.

“Buzz off bud. This is between me and my girl.”

“It’s not when you talk to her like that, loud enough for whole damn bar to hear and then put your hands on her.

“Why don’t you go and fuck your cousin, you dirty ass hippies.”

The man meets eyes with Rosie and he immediately knew he had to help her. She looked defeated, but a shine of hope that someone, anyone would ever help her out. He knew one of their kind when he saw that look. Just like the group of outcasts he’d gathered over the years since returning home.

“You’re a…” he glances to Rosie who beams innocence in such a way a man like him is forced to protect it. “Jerk.” He decides instead of saying words that might make the victim feel embarrassed.

“He’s an… asshole.” She spits out and feels a wave of rush over her as she curses.

George flinches to hit her and that was enough for the tall stranger. “Alright, you’re killing the vibe, man.” He wraps his neck in a headlock and drags him out of the bar with a shocked Rosie froze for a moment.

“‘Ello there, love.” The singer from before came in. With gentle hands to her shoulders. “You alright? Hurt?”

“N-no.” She stutters.

“Ya sure you’ve gone all rosy in the face.” He fans her with his hand.

“I always am.” She excuses quickly. “Sorry..I-“

“No apologies, let’s get you into the fresh air eh? Don’t worry I’m with the big guy what dragged off that unpleasant twat you were dealing with.”

“Okay.” She says breathily and a little dazed. “Thank you.”

——-

“Well, he’s gone.” The tall one says proudly, clapping his hands.

Rosie stands and looks at the spot where her car had sat. Now empty. “Did he take that yellow car?” She points to the space.

“Yeah, he headed right for it, had the keys.”

She nods and sighs. “I’m afraid that was my car he took.” She looks down the ground to figure out her next move from here, now stranded.

“Oh shit. Oh no, I’m sorry.” The tall man says putting his hands to his mouth. “Ah. Well fuck, honey I really screwed you there didn’t I “

She blinks with her large pale blue eyes at him with tears withheld. A cherub round face that struck a deep nerve as she tried to hide her upset. “You didn’t mean it. You were trying to help.” She says with a slow nod and inhales.

“Bad luck innit.” The other rubs her back comfortingly and she didn’t mind it. He seemed like such a nice man. They both were.

“Can you get a ride home? Call your parents or… something? Or did he just... steal your car?” He towers over her but she doesn’t feel afraid. He rubs his head in thought as he bit his lip.

“I’ll have to call my mother. He’ll go home to his mother I presume.” She nods. “I can retrieve my car tomorrow. Unless he crashes it.” She sighs. “He was terribly drunk.” Her shoulders sink in disappointment.

“Look, we’ll get ya home...what’s your name love?”

“Rose.”

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name innit? For a beautiful girl.” He holds no ill will as he says it and the compliment hits her hard in her emotionally unstable state. Tears well up for someone, a man, a nice man to be so kind to her to say such a nice thing. “Oh no, don’t cry. We'll get you a cab home. It’s no trouble love. Don’t worry ya pretty little head about it eh?”

“You’re so nice.” The tears fall fat over her flushed cheeks.

“Now there’s a good girl.” He brings her in for a hug. “Go call her a car, mate.” He nods away the other fellow.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like this. I’ve had such a bad day.”

“Now let’s sit down here and you can tell Danny all about it now little Rosie.” He shoos some men off a nearby bench to sit her down.

“That your name?” She sniffles

“It is. I’m Danny and that big man was Declan. You’ll be safe with us. Don’t worry. We are protectors of the oppressed.” He chuckles as he puts an arm on her shoulder as she hides her face from the eyes watching.

“Oppressed?”

“Yeah. You know, women… people that are... various beautiful shades of brown, black yellow..." he spoke dramatically with an outstretched hand that captivated her " … homosexuals. You know how it goes, the bad ones yeah? The rebels, the outcasts, lost children who come across our path.”

“You’re making us sound like a cult man. Don’t scare her.” Declan laughs and stands guard at her other side. “Taxi’ll be here within the hour.” He gives her a warm smile that crinkles around his eyes. Half of it coverd in a beard that was pointed and a bit fuzzy. His hair was like a dark lions mane around his face and shoulders.

Rosie contemplated as she looked up at him and wondered if she’d ever seen a man so tall before.

“He only looks scary,” Danny assures her. “Declan this is Rosie.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He gives a gentle nod down at her.

“Almost exactly what I told her.” Danny beams.

“Hey Rosie, I’m Declan. Nice to meet you.” He spoke softly and gently as if she might startle if he spoke too loudly at her. “We’re in a band. We travel around. Play music and just...living life y’know. Being free with the life we’ve got.” He spoke proudly as he explained. “We’ve heard a lot of stories. So you aren’t going to tell us anything we’ll judge you for.” He laughs.

“We’ve all done far worse than whatever spot you’ve got yourself in angel.” Danny joins in the laugh.

“I’m sorry to cry I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.” She wipes her cheeks. “As I was telling Danny I’ve had a very bad day.”

“Tells us about it then love. Let the evil out.” He motions with his hands as if he were vomiting and it makes her have a soft little giggle. “There she is.” He pushes her chin up gently. “Go on then…”

Her blubbering story hurt them both as she told of isolation and now betrayal and forced marriage to a terrible man. They’d seen it and heard it before, many in their group had a similar past.

“You deserve so much better Rosie love,” Danny says with a broadly shaking head. “You are clearly such a bright and lovely girl with a pure heart and you deserve the same given back to you.”

“I do!” She whines.

“You can change it all. You’ve got the power. They tell us we don’t. That we can’t. But it’s because they’re afraid of us. Afraid that if we knew what power we had as a collective, as they’ve made us all feel so isolated you see? You can have whatever sort of life you want Rosie. You just have to take it.” Dany speaks intently to her with unwavering eye contact.

“Take it?” she sniffles.

“Make the hard choices. You want things to stay like this forever or you want to take a chance and be your own person?” Declan asks with high brows. He had the tougher approach and Danny handled the whimsy of things, it suited their personalities.

“Like...refuse to marry him?”

“Not just that. You can refuse to stay with your parents.”

Rosie laughs as if he’s joking.

“I’m serious. You could go and live anywhere you wanted. Did you even know that?”

“No. I thought….”

“You can make your own choices Rosie,” Declan says as he sees the cab arrive. “You could see the world. Meet anyone. Do anything. ”

“That… sounds too good to be true.” she looks down at the ground as they walk her towards the car.

“It’s what we did,” Declan turns to face her. “We didn’t like our lives so we just...changed them. I wanted music and freedom and to be around people who understood me.”

“We eventually found each other. And our little family has grown ever since.” Danny holds his home like an adoring mum seeing away their daughter on the bus.

“Family?”

“We’re just a bunch of misfits that are trying to find our place in this crazy world.” Danny shrugs. “Some of us play music and some just follow us in the summertime to escape their lives. Some just like life on the road. We’ve got all sorts. Certainly had a few girls with stories like yours.”

“Really?” she rubs her cheeks.

“We aren’t saying you have to join us. We’re just saying you can make your own choices... have whatever sort of life you want. That’s all. You seemed like you could use the help.”

“I could.” she lets out a heavy, thoughtful sigh. “Thank you. Both. You were very helpful. I can’t really repay you.”

“Start making YOURSELF happy Rosie. That’ll be payment enough. You deserve it, pet.” Danny waves her goodbye.

“Don’t let the man get you down little Rosie.” Declan Nods her way as she gets in the cab to head home.

—————

The cab drive home was the most peace she was going to know for the next 24 hours. It started with the cops being at her house when she got there. George had been arrested after being taken to the hospital for injuries from wrecking her car. He was being held and charged and poor Rosie thought she might pass out.

George’s mother paced and shouted in their house late into the night. Wailing about her “poor” son. What did she do to him to make him behave in such a way? Denial was not just a river she'd read about in the encyclopedias she'd gotten for Christmas.

Her own mother joined in, what did she do? How was she going to fix this? Why didn’t she have the money to bail him out? She raised her better than this.

Rosie sat and took it. But each biting remark only made that funny feeling in her stomach grow as each verbally slapped her over and over.

“Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” She finally says back quietly.

“For god's sake girl don’t mumble and slouch! It’s ugly!”

She had been told she was pretty tonight and told she could be and do whatever she wanted. Things she’d never heard before. There were people out there that wouldn’t treat her like this. This isn’t what she wanted. She wouldn’t survive a life like this, it would hollow her out into a shell of who she really was.

“I said, Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” Her brow was now creased and a rare sight it was. “Did you ever consider your son is a drunk? A hateful loser who has been breastfed too long by his mother?!” She sass’s with balled fists in the meanest and most insulting thing she’d ever said came out of her mouth confidently. “And you! I don’t have any money because you won’t let me work! You won’t let me leave! Or even LIVE!” She throws her arms up in the air. “You’re being bullies when I’m the ONLY one that tried to DO something and HELP him. And this is what I get? No. No more. I don’t have to put up with this...this… BOLOGNA!” She yells and stomps to her room, slamming the door and leaving a room of shocked faces behind. Her father in the kitchen almost choked on the beer he was trying to secretly down to deal with the situation. It was beer and not even liquor what was he becoming?

Rosie falls to her bed and cries and hits the pillows as her door is quickly bombarded with screeches on the other side. Demands of her to come out and apologize and she just kept shouting “NO!” Over and over to their requests. She took all of her suitcases and laid them on the bed, the voices on the other side growing tired and falling quieter and they tried to listen to what she was doing. She threw her life into those cases. All her favorite things, things she might need, she stuffed them full and sat on them to get them to shut. She angrily pens a letter. Telling them she was tired of being oppressed and lied to and she was going to make herself happy and never see them again. She still signed it with a heart.

She gets out of her bedroom window and makes her way to the car with the dented fender and busted windows the cops had returned to them. She throws in her bags and whispers a prayer it will start. Someone was looking out for her. She could see the sources of the yelling running out of the house behind her as she headed out of the subdivision. She’d never felt more alive.

She practically drifted into the gravel parking lot at the roadhouse and held tears of joy from her escape and the fact that the buses and vans were still in sight. The bus was headed out of the parking lot. She leaves the car with the keys in the ignition and straps her bags and suitcases up and runs as fast as her feet will carry her toward the van left in the line.

“WAIT!” She shouts and pants. “PLEASE WAIT!!” She lets out a scream she didn’t know she had in her. Her lungs burned and her blood pumped faster than it ever had as the van door rolled open. “I’m coming with you!”

“Is that?” Declan snorts out an amused sound

“Well fuck me it’s that little girl again.” Danny muses as he looks out the door. “Slow down mate, we got a castaway.”

“Being. Chased. Keep going.”

“Chased?” Danny laughs. “By who?” The thought of someone being in pursuit of this tiny white field mouse amused him to no end.

“I RAN AWAY!” she laughs as she throws her bags to the filled van and is ran full force as the van gets to the highway and she’s yanked inside. The door slams shut behind her and she’s left wheezing and trying to fix her dress and hair.

“Come now little bird, have a seat.” Danny pulls her down on the bean bag he’s sat on.

“I. Ran.” She pants out and Danny and Declan laugh but the other eyes in the van are looking at her confused.

“From the cops?” Someone asks concerned

“No.” She clears her throat and takes a deep breath as she calms down. “From my house.”

“Was it as bad as you thought it was gonna be?” Danny pushes back her hair.

“Worse.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I can... I can come with you guys right?” She says with puppy eyes.

“Welcome to our merry little crew Rosie bug.” Danny beams.

“I ran away too.” Another girl with long beautiful wavy hair says from her spot in the open-backed van, now crowded full. “Husband? Parents?”

“Both.” Rosie nods and they share a sympathetic nod of understanding.

“I’m glad you came Rosie.” the girl's eyes showed strong empathy and it made Rosie certain she'd made the right decision.

“I am too.” She finally catches her breath. “So…” she primps for a moment to gather herself. “Where are we off to first?”

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s

#Declan Harp #declan harp fanfic #declan harp fic #frontier au #frontier #jason momoa frontier #jason momoa #declan harp au #declan harp x ofc

24 notes · View notes

hinaaspanda · 4 years

Text

Vocalized Feelings

Paring: Garage band leader! Donghyuck x Retired choir member! reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word count: 8012

happy bday @aquinoa !!!

You didn’t need a calendar to figure out that today was a Saturday, nor did you need a clock to tell you that the time was early noon. All you needed was the noise of drumsticks bashing onto its respective kit, the most definitely unneeded feedback of guitar amps, and a terrible late-morning attitude. And that’s the exact reason why you loudly let out a stifled grumble as you flipped off the covers that once encased your legs, and immediately stomped down to your garage.

Entering the cold, barren, unfinished walls of your garage, you scan onto the exact sight you expected to see. 6 figures scattered all over the place. Three plopped onto the couch, Mark and Jeno tuning their various guitars and basses, as your little brother, Jisung, watches them with full intent swelling from his eyes. You glance to the left, meeting the eyes of an overly excited Chenle, waving both his hands as he screams your name and an apologetic Jaemin, clutching onto his drum symbol, indicating that he’s genuinely sorry for all the volume. You didn’t however, know if the drummer was referring to the band as a whole, or the pianist beside him.

Your eyes scan further as you finally link them with the vocalist of this garage band, Donghyuck, an irked expression painting across his face. You watch his eyes roll to the top of his head, utter disgust oozing out of him the second you trot down the few sets of steps, heading over to sit with your brother and his bandmates. Although, you never saw his purely bothered face, since you’ve learned to just ignore him.

The fact that he hated you was always head-scratcher for both you and the rest of his band. His little mutter of anger towards you, the grumbles of annoyance whenever you walk into a room, it never made sense to you. It’s not like he was jealous of you, he couldn’t have been. Sure you were part of the city’s greatest youth choir, a choir that, to your dismay, was terminated just last year--but it shouldn’t affect him, he’s the face of his own band after all.

Or maybe that’s why he always looked at you with the cold eyes of someone who wanted to slit your throat. The fact that he had a team of his own, a backbone to lean onto, complete with their own published singles and high chances at stardom. Maybe he wanted to taunt you with it, laugh in your face with the members of his band. Pin you down, the words “look at me now” spat onto your embarrassing figure. Maybe he wanted to prove his worth, or he’s already concluded that you weren’t worthy enough for him.

While your mind wandered off into overthinking land, a certain, turmoil filled body, sauntered over to the very couch you sat on, shadowing you from the lonely light bulb that shined all its might around the inner walls of your crowded garage.

“Well, well, well, the infamous Park Y/N finally awoke from her terribly long slumber.” Donghyuck held a hand to his hip, judging you for the sleep clothes you didn’t bother to change out of. “Now tell me, why did the gremlin run out of her little cave to come here? We’ve got work to do here, you know” The passive-aggressive vocalist crosses his arms, earning miffed groans from the boys and a stellar eye roll from you.

“Piss off, Hyuck, Y/N’s my sister, stop insulting her like that or you guys won’t have anywhere to practice,” Jisung spoke up, a section of your heartwarming just a tiny bit at your little brother’s defensive words. As you shot a gracious smile at your only family in the room, a stifled chuckle escaped from your left.

“And we wouldn't wanna switch practice places, now would we?” Mark challenged, Donghyuck immediately growing mute as his elder shot him a knowing, sly smirk. You overlooked it, however, as you shot up, faces just inches away from his.

“You’re right, Donghyuck, you do have work to do!” you jabbed at his chest with a single finger “You need to learn how to stop being such a nuisance to everyone you meet!”

Taking a step back, Donghyuck sent you a sinister grin. “I’m sorry sweetie, but ‘Donghyuck’ is only reserved for close family and friends, so it’s ‘Haechan’ to you.”

“I’d rather die than ever be close with you”

“Go for it, baby. No one would miss you”

“Neither of you ever know when to quit it, huh” The spare door right from the garage bounced open, and a furious, brunette boy emerged from the once empty door frame. “Both of you, seriously, shut up sometime? I got good news for us and I don’t want this embarrassing conversation ruining it”

“Renjun!” Chenle beams with joy as the exhausted figure hustles forward, a laptop in hand, before squeezing into the couch, in between you and your brother. You and Donghyuck mutter under your breaths as you retire to your former spots within the garage floor while Renjun, sensing your discrete actions, grumbles in defeat as he whips open his laptop.

“I got in contact with this studio, SM, they said they like your guy’s stuff” Renjun continued, not sparing anyone glances as they jolted in a positive surprise. “You guys might even get a single”

As the members with instruments encased in their hands jump in pure joy, Renjun quickly turns his attention to you. “...But you guys need a girl to sing with you, that's their one condition”

As if on cue, everyone’s (minus Donghyuck) heads whips to your overtly shaken figure, hands tucking in between your legs, and sweat beginning to pool from the top of your forehead, pupils shivering in fear, you barely even dared to continue Renjun’s sentence.

“...You’re not really saying that--”

“Please sing with Hyuck, Y/N!” Chenle, definitely the most spontaneous one in the group, rushed to kneel in front of you, has clasped together in a praying formation. “Your voice is amazing!”

Your heart couldn’t help but feel a little light once the orange-haired boy uttered those words, the same way Donghyuck couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief. And your heart couldn’t help shatter once you uttered your following reply.

“No”

…

Despite evading the room the minute every band member chased you around with pleading eyes, you couldn’t help but be filled to the brim with guilt, strings of your disgrace spilling out and binding you to the pavement as you sulking continue your way towards the bank’s clear glass doors. It was Saturday, and by definition, errand day. A day you truly dreaded for its repetitive manor, complexity, and most definitely the mundaneness of it all. Lifelessly stopping at the counter of the bank, just to visit the supermarket moments after. It was a necessity, of course. But there was never an errand day that you didn’t greet with a wholehearted scowl every morning.

Errand day, something you knew would happen, much to your dismay. And everything would’ve stayed the same, if it weren’t for the overly confident, egoistic, and prideful figure with the voice of an angel, panting in exhaustion as he tugs harshly onto your jacket sleeve. And if you were being completely honest, a sparkle of joy pooped through you after seeing this main vocalist dishevelled.

“Park--wait up--fuck” Donghyuck spat through, hands gripping his thighs in a failed attempt to straighten his figure. Rouch exhales escaping his lungs when he finally succeeded in fixing his posture. Your eyebrows knit together as he neglected to drop your wrist out of his grasp. If any stranger were to mistakenly glance at the two of you right that second, it would look like the climax of those Korean romance dramas your mother loved so much. You didn’t give him a slim chance to continue his probably useless tangent as you tilt your head to the side in annoyance.

“If you came all the way here just to throw another insult at me, then you can save it!” You snap. Swatting your hand away from his surprisingly strong clutch. A clutch even he seemed to forget he held so tightly. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Park, just listen to me”

“I’m busy, Donghyuck”

The now angry idol-wannabe huffed a loud sigh, as he forced a hand between you and the glass doors, loudly calling out to your freedom. The freedom you couldn’t grasp at, not with the peculiarly toned forearm clasped onto the door handle, rendering you unable to move. You swear, you saw this exact scene plastered onto the t.v. just last week.

“Sing with me, Y/N”

Was he kidding?

The vocalist stared at you with full intent and the most earnestness you’ve ever seen in someone, as he fully rejected the staring strangers from inside the bank, the bank you wanted nothing more than to be inside right now. “For the single, sing with me”

He sounded so forced, yet so nonchalant, it almost sounded attractive, if it weren’t for the literal flare burning through his pupils. You simply crossed your arms, the bank audience swiftly minding their own business, not wanting to witness what they thought was a couple seconds before a break-up.

“They got you on this, too, huh? How much did they pay you to say that?” Donghyuck quickly retorted, shooting you a stare that only said “I’m serious, Y/N” straight to your face.

“Well, whatever” you continued, eyes stuck to the gravel before you. “Why chose me, anyway?”

“Um” eyes traveling to the sky, praying they wouldn't come in contact with yours. “Well..”

All 7 boys, scattered across the garage floor, winced as you slammed the secluded door shut, not baring to watch you dash away in utter fear. Every band member let out their share of aggravated sighs and grumbles, a worried Chenle fast pacing around the pattern carpet that laid below them. All while Renjun, and an equally worried Jisung massage their temples in an effort to calm down their nerves.

“I’M SORRY GUYS I WAS THE REASON SHE LEFT I SCARED HER OFF AND I--” a panicked pianist was shaken in the hands of the band’s drummer as he set him down, placing Chenle on the couch, snuggled in between the their guitarist and bassist.

“You didn’t scare her off, Chenle, she’s just a wuss” Donghyuck tapped his foot in a comical effort to look as equally annoyed as the other members. Yet deep down, both he, and the rest of the boys behind him, knew he hated watching her leave for another, unsuspecting reason.

“You can drop the act, Hyuck, she's gone.” Renjun clicked away at his laptop keys. “Stop pretending you hate her already, you suck at acting”. A giggling Jisung loosens up on the couch, legs crossed in a comfortable t-formation as he turns to Donghyuck.

“Yeah, Hyuck, just tell her you like her, already. My sister could really use a boyfriend” Jisung was more than lucky that Donghyuck dropped that heavy mic cord to the ground just moments prior, or else he would’ve gotten a concussion right that instant.

“Shut it, Jisung” He snapped, concealing the true fact that he was nothing but ecstatic to hear the news.

Donghyuck didn’t know what led him to practically spit on your face the minute he first met you, despite his automatic admiration for your voice, a voice that felt like honey to his ears. He never knew why he acted so cocky, so immature around your presence. Was it because you were part of the city’s most esteemed youth choir of its decade? Was it your bubbling, harmless personality that he always felt the need to brutally tarnish. He could never tell. But when your soft voice was replaced with harsh insults made to rebuttal his, the vocalist’s heart couldn’t help but snap in half.

“OH, I KNOW! Chenle jumped up from his sulking position on the couch, gaining the attention of the two guitarists beside, along with a inner-monologuing Donghyuck. “Let’s get Hyuck to ask her!”

Heads whipped towards the orange-haired boy’s idea as he continued his radical idea. “Think about it, Hyuck was the only one who didn’t ask her yet, and if she knows that the whole group wants her in then she might say yes!” Various members of this esteemed ‘neighborhood garage band’ began to nod their heads in agreement. Everyone except Donghyuck, of course.

“And…” Jeno wiggled his eyebrows, cocking them at the now flustered face of the band. “Hyuck can spend some more time with Y/N”

Donghyuck already knew that this was their ulterior motive all along, but hearing it out loud just threw pity at his heart. But his own friends didn’t even give him a chance to argue, as he felt the palms of Mark and Renjun force him out of the same door you escaped from. Yet he couldn’t feel his feet change directions, because deep down inside, Jeno was right. He did wanna spend more time with you. God he was such an idiot.

Of course, Donghyuck couldn’t tell her all that. Sure, he was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid, he knew that much. That was why his reply to your question was, nothing close to stellar.

“Your voice is...ok, alright? And you’re like the only girl we know around here so… just take it ok? And take the compliment, too, it's the only time you'll ever get one of those” his words wandered off as you let out a sigh, the corner of your eye telling you that, judging by the whole new set of customers lined up at the bank counter, you’re kdrama-esk stay in front of the glass doors lasted longers than you had desired. Looking up, locking your eyes with his, you sigh once more.

“Fine, just so you can shut up.”

...

You swear, you were just one tier behind a professional singer, but all this singing equipment and technology trapped in a room equally confusing, all of it made you nothing but a nervous wreck. It didn’t even matter that you’ve already stayed in that room for 4 hours straight, everything still sent strong shivers up your spine.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, looked unsurprisingly calm, of course. He's gone through this exact same process countless times before. Singing your heart out, just to let it get tweaked, tuned, shuffled in a different state, never enjoyed a voice in it’s originality. You never really understood it, hence why loitered in the corner of the glass room, shaking like a wet mammal emerging from the cold water.

You were just baffled that Donghyuck hasn’t said anything to you about it, anything at all, actually. The 8 of you drove to the rented recording room with a pair of cars earlier that morning, the heavy instruments hauling together in one vehicle, while your 7 figures squeezed into another. You already knit your eyebrows at the mere fact that Donghyuck took his cramped seat right next to yours, no one taking a grain of notice. Who would know just how weird it would get the minute your shoe’s clicked against the driveway pavement.

4 Hours in, with Jisung sound asleep on your lap, other members sprawled across the couch provided, and an unusually calm Donghyuck uttered out his last lines in that milky voice of his. You’ve already taken your turn, only remembering how easily distracted you got by Donghyuck and the admiration glittering in his eyes. Eyes that strongly contradicted the tone of his voice just moments prior.

You find your eyes glued to the vocalist trapped in the glass room that always stumped you, the vocalist that, starting today, would confuse you more than any recording room could. His composed pupils linking with your skittish ones. You thought back to the car ride, his breath hitched as he planted his vision on the trees and buildings passing by. How he barely spared you a glance, let alone a cheap insult. Was he finally done through with it? Has he finally grown past the phase of finding simple fat jokes funny? Your mind wandered, and you wish you wandered a little bit more so you wouldn’t have noticed the pink tint creeping onto his cheeks as he closed the door to the recording room, his eyes still planted onto yours.

“Thank you very much, sir.” Renjun shook the hand of the man behind the recording stand, other members of the band following his lead as you shook Jisung awake. But everything you touched, you did so halfheartedly, as the thought of a certain prideful vocalist couldn’t escape your mind.

Huh, that was weird.

...

It was Saturday again, the clashes of symbols and guitar strings wrapped up in a melodic harmony ringing into your ears as you woke up. It was Saturday again, and that Donghyuck kid hadn’t left your mind for a week. Too many questions passed through your mind, you didn’t have the motivation to scream for joy the moment Renjun burst through the door, showing the band the email. An email that was practically lined in gold for the other viewers, and email giving them directions to a small coffee shop across town, and approval for an upcoming gig.

“Let’s celebrate!” Mark howled, earning other loud screams from their designated dolphin boy as the 6 of you immediately grabbed your coats and headed to the nearest building that served purely mediocre fast-food.

“Save some for us!” Jisung, chanted through the garage door, both him and Chenle dreading the table behind them that overflowed with unfinished highschool homework and completely finished bags of chips.

6 milkshakes and 6 stuffed stomachs later, the garage band sat around you, giggling at what you thought was the email you ate out for, as you shuffled away to the washroom. But as Donghyuck would put it, “You’re always wrong, Y/N!”.

“What am I gonna do?” Donghyuck gripped the strands of hair residing at his front scalp. “I almost blew my cover back in the recording room!”

As if on cue, Donghyuck’s seemingly useless remark earned a groan from the rest of the band mates, and especially the band manager, digging his fingertips onto his temples, giving him the much overdue head massage he needed due to Hyuck’s stupidity.

“You could, I dunno, tell her the truth?” Jaemin sipped from his remaining milkshake, receiving that infamous empty- straw crinkling sound just seconds later. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, right Jeno?” The bassist only nodded silently, earning a pleading groan from the vocalist in question.

“Hey man, we’re already helping you and everything, poor Sungie’s gotta deal with our bullshit in his house every week just so you could get a chance with her. We don’t have any other reason to practice there, you know.” Mark stirred the striped straw. “Even Renjun, Y/N”s bestfriend in highschool, mind you, became the manager to our dumb garage band just to help your odds”

Donghyuck stared into the popping bubbles of his pink milkshake, his guilt mirroring the bubble’s movements. He knew about Jisung, your little brother, but he never even thought about Renjun. All his friends, trying harder than he was, all to not get cock-blocked. God, how stupid was he.

Apparently, he was stupid enough to forget you even left the table for a bathroom visit, as he almost spat out the last of his milkshake as he watched you emerged from the dim-lit room. Earning giggles from the other boys.

...

You missed singing, you really did. The memories you cherished singing alongside the 30 vocalists, awaiting the audience’s standing ovation, you craved for more than anything. Sure, it sounded a little too self loving for your liking, but anyone could agree that you guys deserved. That’s why, when the Harmonics Youth Choir finally shut down due to an untimely accident, it surely left a broad hole in your heart.

Especially now, right after feeling the thrill once again at the recording room, the sensation of letting out notes and melodies gripping onto your heart, never letting go as you sent in the application email. This wasn’t all your idea, though. This scheme was given to you in a fully wrapped package of taunting and disbelief of your true abilities, and handed to you by no one else but the egotistical vocalist, Donghyuck.

“I heard there was an opening for this new choir downtown” Donghyuck clicked away at his laptop as he took his break at their weekly practice. The phrase ‘new choir’ caught your attention faster than a fly to the scent of rotten food. You shuffled towards him, reluctant and half expecting for him to revolt at your presence. But you truly didn’t care when the chance to shine under the spotlight of a stage was upon you once again, and you would rather die than miss the chance to grasp it.

“They look pretty serious, though” Donghyuck scrolled through the choir’s website nonchalantly, angling the screen so you could get a better view. “I don’t think you’d fit in at all” You knew he was kidding, partially at least. Nevertheless, an arrow of hurt shot through your chest as you stood up, spine straightening with the smallest ounce of pride left in you.

“Are you even hearing yourself, Donghyuck?” You jabbed your own chest, concealing your genuine hurt. “I was a member of Harmonics, I’d fit right in!”

“Uh huh, yeah, what happened to your esteemed choir, again?” he didn’t even spare you a glance as he exited out of the choir’s website Opening another window filled with gruesome battles and skimpy female armour, he proceeded to ignore your defensive figure, keeping all his attention on that dumb video game. You, however, couldn’t care where his attention was facing, as you had a point to make, and an argument to win.

“You’ll see, Donghyuck, I’ll make that choir, and you’ll be the first to see it. In fact, you should watch the audition, then you’ll see how great I am!”

Donghyuck couldn’t help but recite the words ‘you’re already the best’ over and over again in his head. He didn’t have any other choice, really. He couldn’t say it out loud, of course, he was too prideful for that. Or maybe too much of a coward. He couldn’t tell.

“Whatever, I’ll watch just to prove you wrong, Park” Of course he couldn’t say no. He truly was a coward.

You didn’t even notice the proud, stunned expressions that coated the rest of the band member’s faces as you trotted upstairs, ready to write another, responsive email to a certain choir company.

...

A tired, fatigued Donghyuck rang your doorbell two days after your last interaction. Despite his reluctant character during then, he still, to your surprise, offered to give you a ride, knowing full well of your father’s disappearance to another city in the name of his job. After an awkward, silent, 30 minute hell of a car ride, the two of you threw his car doors shut, and entered the grand church building.

You stood in the middle of the rented church stage, various chandeliers and crystals covering your view, as you faced the three judges of this audition. The three obstacles left in your road to stardom, and the three obstacles blocking you from your chance to prove yourself right.

“Miss Park Y/N, Auditioning for the part of Alto” The somber toned middle seated judge read straight off of the application sheet, before barely glancing up at you. “You may start whenever you’re ready.” You closed your eyes, softly beginning to hum the words of Donghyuck’s single. It only made sense to choose what you chose, it was the song that gave your heart the inspiration to impulsively act on it’s dreams.

Donghyuck’s world stopped as he sat in his lonesome three rows before the judges, the single frame of you singing staying frozen in his mind. Your voice felt like honey trickling into his ears, as he sat in awe, not bothering to keep that fake scoffing expression on his face. He felt weak to the knees. Your voice, your appeal, everything, it all made him almost want to drop the act and tell you the truth.

But you could only handle one earth shattering truth at a time, right?

The middle judge raised her hand up, signally a stop just after a couple of lyrics spilled out of your lips. The two judges coupling her sides all kept their cold expressions as you trembled in fear. You anticipated their impending responses, although, deep down, you already knew exactly what they were going to say.

“That’s enough, Miss Park”

“Wait, I can--”

“That won’t be necessary. Now, can you please step off the stage? The next contestant is waiting” The left judge uttered effortlessly, not sparing a glance at you as you stalked backstage. Donghyuck roughly followed you, jolting the plastic table the three judges hid behind, before shooting those judges a very irritated glare.

“Please assure your girlfriend to not take this personally, it was a tough decision”

“Bullshit, you didn’t even listen to the full thing” Donghyuck spat, earning the wide eyes of the three judges who sat below him. He didn’t even care what their response was as he spurt towards the doors, the doors you had already burst out of with pure rage.

Donghyuck cursed at himself for feeling just the slightest bit giddy at the judges assuming those two were closer than friends. He scanned you through the car window, a flame burning in your eyes. You two clearly need to reach the level of “friends” first.

The rest of the drive was silent, or at least restrained, as your huffs and puffs of anger could be heard from Donghyuck’s side of the vehicle easily. You would rather die than look at him right then. You were surprised that he hasn’t laughed right at your face yet. But whether he hurls another one of those prideful scoffs at your direction or not, one fact still remains, he was right. You’ve stayed out of touch with the whole concept of singing, that the only thing keeping you sane were the lyrics of a single written by the vocalist with a grudge against you. How pitiful were you?

And to think, you truly began to believe that this demon, this evildoer, began to have feelings for you through a simple set of flushed cheeks. All those times he stained your mind, none of that mattered. All Donghyuck wanted was for you to fall to the ground, pride and ego brutally shattered. That was why he brought that stuck up, cold-shouldered choir. Just to watch you get rejected. And it worked. You were bruised, broken forever,and it was all thanks to him.

“I hope you’re happy Donghyuck. You were right” You murmured just loud enough for his ears to perk. You couldn’t see his expression, but you were sure he was a smirking, evil mess.

Donghyuck watched you swiftly pass him, his sulking eyes defying your assumption once again.

...

The neighborhood garage band’s practice room fell into a tense silence as you slammed the garage door shut, stomping up to your room. Everyone’s eyes, despite already becoming aware of the situation, still mirrored the ones of innocent puppies ready to be adopted. Except for Hyuck’s, of course. His overflowed with guilt, burning up with an anger that could only be pointed towards himself. Donghyuck fell into the cushions that decorated the couch, earning pats and shoulder rubs that were laced with empathy, empathy that he couldn’t reciprocate. His palms ruffled the strands of his hair, gripping onto them in stress as Renjun scooted towards him.

“Don’t blame yourself, Hyuck, she just really missed singing” Renjun angled himself to face the remorse-filled vocalist. “Anyone would, with that choir”

Donghyuck let out a heartfelt whine, his back-scalp collapsing onto the couch backframe. “I got her all excited about singing again, I couldn’t help it. I kinda got excited for her, too. How was I supposed to know they’d be so picky with their contestants!” Hyuck rose to his feet, bewilderment rising through his veins. “Their rejection’s all bullshit, anyways! Her voice is amazing!”

“Then tell her” Jisung twiddled his fingers, not even sparing the distressed vocalist a glance “Tell her that her voice is amazing, tell her all the compliments you want to”

“You know I can’t do that, Sungie”

“Why?” A certain flame echoed in his booming voice, starling the already traumatized older band members. “Is it ‘cause you're a coward? It sounds like it! How else do you think it was gonna turn out? Pretending to hate the person you’ve loved since highschool, of course she’s gonna hate you back! Now you better clean this shit up, and I don’t just mean this dumb audition. My sister’s amazing, ok? And she doesn’t fucking deserve this.”

Jisung, with a fury of his own, stalked into his own home and away from the band members that resided in his garage. Mark, the band’s leader, took it upon himself to call for the two Park siblings that escaped his grasp, praying they would come back, but it was no use. Donghyuck truly felt like an idiot, and a coward.

Your pillowcase felt damp as you lightly pressed your cheek against your newly shed tears. Everything seemed...useless now. Your sulking figure couldn't lift itself from the cozyness of your plump mattress, string of sorrow binding your limbs tightly against the bed’s fabric. You laid still, your world turning to stone as you tuned in to the quiet chirps perched onto the roof just below your window. The tiny squawks sent you into a calm abyss, one that you haven’t visited in a while. With all this song recording and impulsive acting, everything grew hectic, never giving you a chance to breathe.

You didn’t know how your consciousness was able to do it, but Donghyuck still stayed trapped in your mind the whole time.

You were definitely brimming with anger when you thought of him, but the thought of his smile, even if you only saw it after one of his smug insults, still stained your mind. And you hated it. And that was why your expression was nothing less than relieved when it was just your little brother who peeped through the small crack your door created after his knuckles clicked against it in a soft knock.

A soft smile wiped across his face, his eyes painted with a calm appeal, as he shuffled into your room, friction from the carpet swiping against his cotton socks. With a tilt of his your little brother simply suggested.

“Milkshakes?”

...

“I don’t care, Jisung, I’m not gonna sing with them at the concert” Your eyes watched the various cars pass by in a blur, trying desperately to avoid contacting the pleading pupils of your brother. You trusted him, the blade of betrayal impaling your heart. You whole-heartedly believed that Jisung invited you to this milkshake bar to free your mind, get rid of all the thoughts about those 6 boys that roamed freely within the inner workings of your garage. Instead, he simply induced your brain with more thoughts of him, luring you in with the taste of a strawberry milkshake.

“C’mon Y/N, It’s gonna be a small gig, the venue maxes out at 50 people.” Jisung gave his weight to the surface of the fast food table, gripping his ice cold glass with his fingers that were dipped in anticipation. You sunk into the lush, red

seats, finally sparing your brother a glance.

“What are you gonna gain from this, anyways, it’s not like you're in the band anymore, anyways.”

Shit. You followed Jisung’s hairbangs as they dropped before his eyes, most likely concealing his growing hurt for the words that effortlessly flowed through your careless mouth. Why would you say something that stupid, when you knew full well of the complicated truth. The truth of your brother's resignation of the band due to a harsh wrist injury. All Jisung wanted was the satisfaction of growing old and succeeding with his garage band, but when the rookie drummer finally grew fixed of his wrist damage, the first thing he saw was his supposed drum-kit, standing before the new addition to the band, Jaemin. Although the old and new drummers came to converse on friendly terms, you knew your brother more than anyone else, and you knew he would never get over his replacement so quickly.

“It’s fine, Y/N, it’s not ‘cause of that” He vigorously waved his two hands in an effort to change the subject. “We just wanna hear your voice again, that’s all” His calm voice sent you away from your current state of overthinking, as you took another sip of your pink tinted milkshake. Although his choice of words led you to ponder a little more.

“We?”

“Yeah! Hyuck especially. Mans literally gets weak to the knees when he hears your voice. He loves it so much, you don’t even know, Y/N. But not as much as he loves you lmao--wait-”

The straw fell limp from Jisungs lips, the whites of his eyes spilling out of their sockets as he finally pondered just how much he messed up. It’s funny actually, how quick he caught his mistake AFTER he made it.

You swear, you could’ve exploded right then and there.

“Hyuck--he--what?” A sentence couldn’t even form in between your quivering lips. “You’re kidding right? Sungie? Please tell me this is a joke”

Jisung could feel the ember of his existence about to extinguish as you used that Nickname on him. A nickname that only escaped your mouth when you were either terribly angry or terribly drunk. Jisung swiftly closed his eyes, praying that there was at least an ounce of alcohol in that milkshake of yours, you were a lightweight afterall.

“I--er--no” Jisung’s head downcasted, attempting to hide from your incoming wrath. “Donghyuck likes you, a lot actually”

If it weren’t for the fact that he was your brother, you would’ve spat on his face with the remaining milkshake in your mouth, unable to be swallowed as you sat in pure shock.

“How long?”

“...Since highschool, actually”

The glass mug encased between your fingers shivered in fear. After all this time, all the taunting, all the times he scoffed at your mere existence, that was all from…affection? It was all an act towards grabbing your attention? He didn’t actually despise you? And on top of that, he loves your voice, the voice he only labelled as “ok” in the past? What was with him, couldn’t he had just said something, instead of saying the complete opposite of his feelings?

But apparently, you found that attractive, and everything else clicked. A lightbulb finally glowed a bright amber as you connected the dots. You finally figured out why this prideful vocalist couldn’t escape your thoughts all this time.

As your little brother, shaking in fear by your--apparently menacing-- presence, continues his tangent on how letting them stay at their garage even after his untimely injury was just a ruse to get the two of you together, you shoot up from your seat.

“Oh my god, Jisung, I think I like him back”

“Excuse me, what”

A sense of urgency shot down your spine. “Change of plans, I’m gonna sing with them.”

“WAIT”

“THANKS FOR THE MILKSHAKES, JISUNG, I GOTTA GO TAKE CARE OF SOMETHING” your voice violently hurled through the glass doors of the milkshake place as you ran past them, alerting the commoners that innocently roamed around.

...

“It looks so full” a stifled Chenle murmured towards the band manager as he gripped onto the stage curtains. “God, ok, is it hot in here or just me?”

“It’s fine, Chenle, everyone else is nervous too” A calming Renjun sent a soft hand onto the cusp of the pianist’s shoulder. The rest of the band loitered around the cramped stage rear, the echoes of various audience chatter ringing in everyone’s ears as they shiver in anticipation. Well, everyone except a certain sulking vocalist perched rather uncomfortably on the wooden make-up chair.

Donghyuck’s heart felt numb to everything else but the brutal beatings of guilt. The issue only arose just hours prior, of course the regret still lingered, staining his once proud, upright soul. Jisung was right, he always had been. He should’ve let go of this stupid act when he got the chance. He should’ve taken your hand in his, letting a soft kiss from his lips fall onto your dazed face after nervously stammering sweet nothings to you. He should’ve sprinkled you with compliments every chance he got, showed his pure excitement when you do something as simple as enter the room, or even chant your name half as animated as his pianist always did. The thought of your name trickled into his head. The name that he refused to refer to you as, always going for the rough tone of “Park” instead. All in the name of that dumb ruse, truly used to prank his heart.

“Y/N” He let out a soft murmur under his breath. It felt sweet against his lips. “Y/N.” He scoffed at himself. Maybe it was a good thing you decided not to sing with him, you wouldn’t get to see how pathetic he’s become.

“Y/N?” Renjun’s yelp at your disheveled figure standing at the door, drove Donghyuck straight to reality. His head whipped in response, the wooden chair collapsing under the sheer weight of Hyuck’s speechlessness as his sitting figure fell straight to the ground. Renjun stammered out another shaken response. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry Junnie, I’ve changed my mind. Can I still sing with you guys tonight?” You could practically see the heavenly wings raising his once lifeless body as the rest of the band members produced luminescence from their beaming smiles. A riled up Renjun scrambles towards your feet, slamming a hand to your shoulder. “OF COURSE YOU CAN Y/N NOW GET OVER HERE WHAT THE FUCK.” After being vigorously yanked into the dressing room by your highschool best friend, you migrate over to the still-faced, wide-eyed vocalist laying frozen against the tile floor.

“Donghyuck I need to--”

“Curtains up at 5, get into your positions” A man donning a large black headphone set, gripping a brown noteboard in his hands yells in a robotonus tone before shooting a deadpan look at you. “You there, are you with the band?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Then get into position! Can someone get this girl a mic?” he croaked into his headset’s mic, with a mic falling into your hands just moments later.

Amidst all this chaos, with Renjun pacing back and forth, Mark and Jeno simultaneously tuning their guitars, Jaemin dropping his drumsticks onto the ground, and Chenle loudly greeting a sweaty and panting Jisung resting against the doorframe. You tilt your head, never noticing how your brother followed you over here after you burst through those doors at the milkshake place. Before you could greet him, however, a tight grip landed straight onto your forearm.

“Y/N, wait--” before Donghyuck could even grab your attention. The lights on the other side of those maroon curtains finally dimmed.

“We’re on in 10 seconds” a robotic voice bombed through the band's now trembling figures. They stood before the closed set of curtains, anticipation riling through them.

“Now, please give a warm welcome to the neighborhood garage band; NCT DREAM!!”

The curtains fell into each other smoothly as what seemed to be a million faces staring back at them. A blinding spotlight shined onto the 6 figures ready in their positions. Spilling a lifetime’s worth of confused feelings would have to wait for now.

...

“You guys were amazing!” Renjun and Jisung practically said in unison as they watched the stage performers saunter backstage, Jeno pushing the maroon curtains back as your 6 figures retired back into the coffee house’s dressing room. Sweat dripping down your foreheads as you panted away the shockwaves that traveled through your bodies through the duration of that evening concert. As everyone else let down their instruments and settled down in various places of the cramped prep room, a certain vocalist began to stalk in your direction.

You studied Donghyuck’s image. His eyes glowed with determination, the disgust and repulsion that stained his expressions, and that were apparently all fake, weren’t found beneath the whites of his eyes, unlike before. They looked blank, like he was simply being pulled to you by sheer force. Like you were a captivating magnet, and he was just a mere, insignificant paper clip, ready at your disposal.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, wasn’t just a blank minded zombie lusting for its next meal. Something awoke in him, like a switch hidden behind cobwebs everyone reluctant to switch it on. Exhilaration zooming through his veins, nothing else mattered to him. Nothing else except your cute face trapped snuggly in his two, sweat filled, shaking palms.

The vocalist did think about at least consoling you about the question you had for him before what could only be considered as their best concert, like, ever, but your innocent, curious face had him melting to his feet. His composure flew away the minute you stared back at him, eyes glossy and cheeks as rosy. Sure, he was an idiot, but he was an impulsive idiot, and right now, that helped his odds more than anything.

Roughly, due to the immense amount of feelings bottled up in the weakest material you can think of, Donghyuck cupped the sides of your face, smushing your lips together in an ecstatic kiss. Gripping onto each other like your lives depended on never letting go--although, at the time, it felt like exactly that--you pulled him closer, chests against one another as you tugged on his loose shirt collar.

As Hyuck’s stomach began performing flips just below the fabric of his shirt, and as your knees grew weaker, the two of you slowly detached, earning the gasps and full on screams from their fellow bandmates, the bandmates that they simultaneously forgot existed, and the bandmates who estatically witnessed a very much anticipated kiss. The two of you, too scared to look down at the couch, set at the perfect angle to watch your most recent romantic endeavour, finally glanced down at the wide eyed spectators, all at the edge of their seat waiting to see what will happen next.

“What are you guys waiting for?? CONFESS” The finally stress-free manager jumped up to his feet, a demanding index finger pointed at your flustered figures. The giddy pianist followed Renjun, his whole arm shot out in front of you. “OR BETTER YET??? KISS AGAI--” Chenle’s words were quickly disrupted by the swiftness of Jaemin’s hand as he nodded silently, giving you a signal to talk again.

Donghyuck found his breath hitched as you turned to face you. He put all of his effort into kissing you, so he kinda forgot about what to do after. But after observing your calm, not wanting to beat him up, soft expression that glowed onto your face, alongside those pink tainted cheeks, he figured out that, well, you already kinda knew.

“...heh, hey?” Donghyuck picked onto the skin on his wrists, waiting for them to grow red from the pain. Cringing from the awkward tone of his voice, you spoke up.

“I know, Hyuck”

“Wait what”

You shot him a slightly aggravated glare at his ignorance. Did he not just experience that same kiss you did?

“You’re just that bad at acting, Hyuck” Jisung croaked behind this highschool drama confession. Donghyuck most definitely would’ve given your little brother the greatest jab straight to the head, if it weren’t for your angelic smile presented before him.

“I like you too, Donghyuck. Unless, I’m not close enough to call you that” Donghyuck chuckles to himself, remembering that very interaction back at your garage just weeks prior. Swiftly, his hands drop to your waist, his eyes locked with yours as he pulls you closer to his chest.

“Yeah, you need to get a lot closer” The two of you exchange giggles while your supposed judges fake puke and groan at their vocalist’s flirtatious words. The two of you stay comfortably, his hands softly lounging around your waist as you stay snuggled against his chest. The silence washing over you as your face grows sober.

“Why’d you lie about it?” you distance yourself, just get a view of his face, glistening in the backstage spotlight. A sigh escapes his lips as he glances towards the sky.

“I dunno, I was dumb, jealous of your talent, dumb, desperate for attention, did I mention dumb?” he flew off into a meaningless tangent, his fingers gripped onto the fabric of your shirt. “I was an idiot, Y/N, I thought this was just some stupid crush, but you’re so much more. God, and I probably hurt you so much during that whole dumb thing, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine, your insults are pretty weak, anyways”

“Oh wow, ok, I see how it is”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding”

The vocalist glanced down to his feet, his eyes reaching back to you right after. “Can we, ya know, start over?”

You plant a feathery kiss against his cheek, summoning the red hue that stayed for the rest of the night. “Of course, Hyuckie”

...

“Miss Park Y/N, I am afraid you have to leave, as you are the cause of the main cause of our vocalist’s distraction.” Renjun stated in a deadpan, robotic tone. An arm, raised and pointing to the direction of the door while his foot rapidly tapped against the carpet. Sometimes, you couldn’t tell if the manager was messing with you or 100% serious with his supposed rage.

“I live here, Renjun” you subtly snapped back as Hyuck, who was perched on top of your lap for the most peculiar reason, snaked his arms around your waist. According to your vocalist boyfriend, he got to sit on your lap cause he was ‘more famous than you’. That dummy.

“I’m taking a break, Junnie, go bug Jeno or something. I’m busy with, um” He scans the figure trapped underneath his grasp as Hyuck continues to formulate his poorly thought-out excuse to spend more time with you. “Vocal exercises, yeah, that.” A disapproving sigh slips out of Renjun’s lips, heading over to the guitar and bassist duo. Once the two of you were alone, Donghyuck’s eyes once again fell onto you.

“How’d you find out about my feelings, anyways? I refuse to believe my acting was THAT bad.” His head slithered into the crook of your neck.

“If I’m being completely honest, It was Jisung”

Donghyuck shot up, mic wires and lyric sheets falling to the ground of your garage. “WHAT?”

“Yeah, he went off, exposing you so much. He didn’t even realise it until after he said everything lmao”

“Hey guys I brought snacks” Jisung slipped through the garage door, bags of chips in his hand. Hyuck sent your brother a narrow glare. “You’re a dead man, Park Jisung.”

You watched Hyuck as he sent himself flying towards the not-so innocent boy, the various chips dropping to the ground. Your brother did kinda deserve it though. You glanced at the ripped up calendar on the wall of the barren garage, your eyes landing on the little Saturday square. You smiled to yourself. Usually, you hated Saturdays, for their errands and boring chores, But this one in particular, seemed to be alright.

...

#nct dream #nct 127 #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan x you #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck x you #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #writing #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #garage band! au #choir! au

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shemakesmusic-uk · 3 years

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TRACK BY TRACK BREAKDOWN: Daddy's Country Gold LP by Melissa Carper

Singer-songwriter and upright bassist Melissa Carper has released her new album Daddy's Country Gold today.

Carper’s refreshingly unique style calls to mind greats like Kitty Wells, Billie Holiday, and Loretta Lynn, beautifully conveyed in the grooves of the album’s 12 sparkling gems. Carper enlisted fellow bassist Dennis Crouch (The Time Jumpers) and producer/engineer Andrija Tokic (Alabama Shakes, Margo Price) to co-produce the album and bring her dream to life. Recorded live to tape at Tokic’s analog studio wonderland The Bomb Shelter in Nashville, the album features Crouch (bass), Chris Scruggs (guitar, steel guitar), Jeff Taylor (piano, organ, accordion), Matty Meyer (drums, percussion), Billy Contreras (fiddle), with guest appearances from Brennen Leigh, Sierra Ferrell, and legendary pedal steel maestro Lloyd Green.

Daddy’s Country Gold is a collection of glittering Carper originals of the country, western swing, and jazz variety. From the first notes of album opener 'Makin’Memories,' to the whimsical 'Would You Like To Get Some Goats,' and the heart-wrenching tenderness of album closer 'The Stars Are Aligned,' this lifetime of work, experience, and wanderlust culminates in a beautiful portrait of heartfelt music, written by a road-lovin’ gal who has lived these songs and spent her life playing music for folks that still love the real thing.

We asked Melissa to breakdown Daddy's Country Gold track-by-track to give us more insight into what the songs on the LP are about. Read it below.

Makin' Memories

Most of my songs' inspirations will come just from a beginning phrase or idea and then they will take off from that. With 'Makin' Memories,' the inspiration came from a conversation I was having with a friend, they were joking about 'Makin' memories and keepin' your memories.' I thought it was funny and a good song idea. The first line came to me, 'I'm makin' memories I'd like to remember.' I always have a hard time remembering people's names, especially getting introduced to so many folks at shows and traveling all around, so thus 'Larry and Steve.' Then, of course, there is the whole idea of not remembering what happened when you have had too much to drink, something I may have done a time or two. This is just a fun, lighthearted song that hopefully makes people chuckle. I love Frank Sinatra and this song happened to take on a bit of that Sinatra flair.

I Almost Forgot About You

The idea for 'I Almost Forgot About You' came from a weekend in which I had a very good time and had managed to forget about a love interest that I had been obsessing about. When I got back home that phrase came to me, 'I Almost Forgot About You,' and I realized I had a song there. I just kind of tied in the various lost loves of my life to come up with the rest. The bridge for this song came later and sort of magically. I primarily write without an instrument in hand and develop the words and melody first and then I sit down and figure out the chords after. This bridge I am particularly happy with the spaces and the way the phrasing waits. It came to me that way, and in fact, this entire song had a nice easy flow with the way it all came. I like it when that happens, feels like you are getting help from the universe.

Back When

A lot of my songs are based on my real-life experiences, and with 'Back When,' every single word of that was lived and true. I started writing it a bit after a break up while longing for the relationship I once had with someone, that is--the beginning of the relationship when we were in love and everything was wonderful. It was written with a hopeful desire that things could be as they once were, and though that never happened, I feel like this song does have that hopeful air that maybe 'back when' could happen again, for any relationship that has lost that spark.

Old Fashioned Gal

'Old Fashioned Gal' was inspired by spending some time in the beautiful country of West Virginia. I did receive help from a West Virginian on the names of flowers and such. Before writing it, I had been listening on Sirius radio to a station with old jazz tunes--if I remember correctly--while driving back from a long tour with the Carper Family. Usually, if I listen to a certain style over and over, the next thing I write will have that influence. Like I do with most of my songs, I developed the melody and lyrics first in my head and then sat down to find the chords on guitar. It ended up having a surprising amount of chord changes in the chorus and changing in odd spots rhythmically, but that's what the melody dictated and I like the way it twists and turns and throws you a bit off-balance there in the chorus.

You're Still My Love

'You're Still My Love' is just a sad love song and written from real-life experience. I had been listening to Jolie Holland before I wrote this one and I think it affected the embellishments in the melody. Also, I think Patsy Cline came out, probably from listening so much to Patsy in my childhood. This one wrote itself real quick and I remember camping and sleeping in the back of my van while writing it.

Would You Like to Get Some Goats?

When I wrote 'Would You Like to Get Some Goats' I had a girlfriend at the time whose dream was to have a goat farm. I had fun with double-entendre and metaphors in this one. And it kind of likens the commitment of getting goats with the commitment of marriage. I have heard goats are quite a commitment but they sure are cute when they are little babies.

My Old Chevy Van

'My Old Chevy Van' is an emotional song for me. I inherited my family's 1991 Chevy Van and had been driving it for six years or so when I moved from Arkansas to Austin, Texas in 2009. I drove it around Texas for a year or two and then felt like it was time to sell it as maintenance was getting expensive and it got terrible gas mileage. I had lived in the van at various times, having a traveling lifestyle, and then there were all the memories it held from childhood. At the time of writing the song, both my mom and dad had already passed on. I had no idea when I sold this van how sad I would be because it had such a connection to them. I still wish I had not sold it and just kept it around as a guest house. The seats in back folded out to be a bed and it was quite comfortable to ride in with the luxury bucket seats. I named her 'Barbie' because the pink and purple paint job reminded me of my Barbie van I had growing up. I had been listening to Hazel Dickens a bunch when I wrote 'My Old Chevy Van' and I feel that was influential. This song needed a bridge and my old bandmate, Jan Bell (who knew Barbie), helped me find some lyrical ideas that fit just perfectly for the bridge.

Arkansas Hills

I wrote 'Arkansas Hills' when I was driving back from a Christmas trip to Wisconsin. I started writing it around St. Louis and I did not have a smartphone to give me directions. I had probably scribbled some directions down or was looking at a map and I remember telling myself out loud a few times, so I would remember the highways, '44 West out of St. Louis to 65 South,' and then I thought to myself well that's a nice start to a traveling song. So I started writing it while I was driving down the road, and had it pretty much finished by the time I was pulling into 'my little log cabin' in Arkansas--except I didn't really live in a log cabin, but it sounds good in the song. Donna Farar of Mountain View, Arkansas helped me write a fourth verse, which I felt the song needed. Donna wrote all the lyrics to Willie's big hit 'The Last Thing I Needed the First Thing This Morning' and she actually lives in the middle of the woods in Arkansas in a cabin, so I felt that enlisting her help was a perfect choice.

It's Better if You Never Know

'It's Better if You Never Know' is one of my more recent songs and it was inspired simply by a conversation with songwriters in Nashville at a table in a bar. Once I had moved to Nashville and began co-writing with some folks, I realized you can get a song idea at almost anytime if you are paying attention, just listening to a good phrase someone might say. In this instance, someone said 'It's Better if You Never Know' and someone else said that sounds like a good song. I started trying to write it the next day. I'm getting better at writing songs that don't necessarily have a link to me personally, however, I do believe when a song has that personal link it can have an extra emotional feeling that is conveyed to the listener.

I'm Musing You

'I'm Musing You' came about while I was driving down the road on a road trip. I hadn't written a song in a while and was thinking about how I have often used the same muse or muses to create a song, by thinking back on old times. I thought to myself 'I need a new muse, I need to stop delving back into these old times.' And there was the song.

Many Moons Ago

With 'Many Moons Ago,' a musician friend of mine used that phrase, many moons ago, and I thought wow I like that, people don't use that phrase much anymore, so I decided to write a song with the phrase. I had been listening to a Delmore Brothers tape over and over in my truck and, though I don't even remember the specific song, I know that something from that tape inspired the melody to 'Many Moons Ago.' Often times I will not know what I am copying or if I am copying something, but there is just something present in my consciousness that brings about a certain style or melody. This song doesn't have many lyrics, but I like the simple message it conveys that time does heal and growth occurs and you move on even when you feel you are dealing with something you can never get over.

The Stars Are Aligned

'The Stars Are Aligned' just came from the romantic feeling of a new relationship with a soulmate you have been waiting for. It flowed out just naturally from that first phrase, the 'Stars Are Aligned.' I love the way this one lends itself to a string section in the background, almost Disney princess-like, and I am so pleased with the lovely string parts on this recording. The string parts were written by my girlfriend and first-class fiddler, Rebecca Patek.

Photo credit: Aisha Golliher

#melissa carper #daddy's country gold #track by track breakdown

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