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raeandwhatnot · 3 years

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Lucky Charm – Luke Patterson

Summary: Luke is reminiscing about his relationship with you in the past.

Warnings: it’s a bit sad and angst… but also fluff

Words: 4.3k

A/N: (Y/D/J)= your dream job. This is 3rd person unlike my other imagines where I do it in 1st person. Might make a part two to this if y’all want it! I will be getting to y’alls requests ASAP! I’m so excited to write them! Also, italicized is flashback!

It’s been 25 years since Luke, Alex, and Reggie have died. The first thing that Luke thought of when he died wasn’t just his family, he thought of (Y/N). He thought of how he just left her. They were supposed to be together forever, but that forever was cut short from tainted hot dogs out of a car. The boys have been in the band with Julie for a while now, but Luke couldn’t help but think something was missing while he performed. (Y/N) was that missing puzzle piece. He always called her his lucky charm because he would always perform his best when she was in the crowd.

“Are you going to come to the dance tonight, (Y/N/N)?” Alex asks as the Sunset Curve group walks with the girl to their shared class.

“Hmmm,” (Y/N) hums. “I’m not sure. I have a lot of homework I need to catch up on.”

Luke groans and rolls his eyes at the girl’s excuse. “Oh come on, (Y/N)!” he exclaims, walking in front of her, making him walk backwards. “You have got to live a little every once in a while! All you do is worry about school work. You need to come to the dance. The best band is going to play at the dance!”

(Y/N) tilts her head, “Oh yeah? What band?”

“Sunset Curve, duh!” Reggie says. (Y/N) giggled as she already knew the answer to her question.

“Please?” Bobby pouts. “It’s going to be a lot of fun!”

The group stops outside of the classroom door and she looks at the boys. They all had pleading looks on their faces.

“(Y/N), please!” Luke begs, grabbing her shoulders. “I need my lucky charm tonight. I promise tonight will be worth it!”

(Y/N) looks down at the charm bracelet the boys got her for her 17th birthday. The boys collectively got a charm for her bracelet that meant something to them. Luke got her a clover as she is his lucky charm. She looks back up at the green eyes staring at her waiting for her to answer.

“Fine,” (Y/N) sighed. “I will go to the dance, but you have to promise me that you guys will dance with me!” Luke smiles and pulls her into a quick hug. The rest boys cheered and high fived one another.

Luke wished he could go back to that night. It was a few months before they started dating. He and (Y/N) slow danced together which made him realize that he that had feelings for the girl in the first place. He realized why she was his lucky charm, why his heart would always skip a beat when she laughed, why his palms would get sweaty when she held his hand, why he would always want to be around her because she made him feel safe. He couldn’t stop thinking about her even in the afterlife. He would wonder where she is. Did she get married and have a family? Did she follow her dreams to become a(n) (Y/D/J)? Did she live her life to the fullest? Did she-

Luke’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling out to him, “Hey, Luke!” His eyes tore away from his journal he zoned out on. He saw Alex and Reggie standing in front of him.

“Hm?” Luke hummed, sitting up from leaning against the piano.

Alex took a step closer and asks, “Are you okay?”

Luke tosses his journal on the couch and takes off the acoustic guitar that was wrapped around his chest. “Yeah! Just thinking about a new song!” Luke said. Alex tucks his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he doesn’t believe that Luke is okay. He has been spacing out a lot recently.

“Cool! What is it about?” Reggie questions.

“Uh, I’m not sure yet,” Luke answers. “I was just brainstorming. Trying to think of a meaning to it.” Alex turns his attention to the journal. Luke had doodled clovers around the edges of the paper. Alex taps Reggie with his shoulder and tilts his head at the journal. Reggie analyzes the book, realizing what Luke has been thinking about.

“You making another song about (Y/N)?” Reggie wonders, still looking at the song book.

Luke glances at what Reggie was looking. “I don’t know. She’s just been on my mind recently,” he sighs and looks at the floor. Alex and Reggie nod in agreement as they too have been thinking about their friend.

Alex takes another step towards Luke, “Do you want to talk about it?” Luke kept his eyes glued to the ground. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about her. He didn’t know if it would make him feel better, or if he would just burst into tears.

His thoughts were interrupted once more as Julie skips into the room. “Ready to rehearse, guys?” Julie smiles.

Luke puts on a happy face, “Hell, yeah! Let’s rock out!”

Alex and Reggie look at one another, concerned for their best friend who seems to be hurting. The group walks to their respective spots in the studio.

“What song should we start with?” Luke asks as he plugs his electric guitar into the amp.

Julie flipped her song book. “Should we warm up with Finally Free? We haven’t done that song in a while,” Julie suggest.

Luke look at the boys who were nodding their heads in agreement. “Sounds good to us!” he answers for the group.

Julie starts off the song with her intro, and the rest of the band joined in. As they were performing, Luke messed up here and there, but not enough to notice. At least Julie didn’t notice as she was rocking out with the boys. When they finished Finally Free, they decided to do a new song Julie had started writing. They hadn’t settled on a title just yet which was okay because it was still in the works. They started to practice the first verse going into the chorus, but Luke wasn’t 100% focused. He kept playing the wrong chords.

Because he messed up, he let out a load, frustrated groan. The rest of the band halted their actions to look at Luke. “Woah, you good?” Julie asks concerned.

Luke shakes his vigorously to try to get his mind straight, “Yeah! I’m just not used to the pattern yet. Let’s try again.”

Julie looks at Alex and Reggie. They both shrug their shoulders, and they start the song again. However, this time Luke could barely get past the intro without messing up. He tried to continue, but he couldn’t do it.

“Damn it!” Luke shouts, dropping his guitar to hover over his chest as he roughly runs his hands through his hair.

Julie stands up from his keyboard. “Luke?” she softly says. Luke could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

“I-uh,” Luke stutters as he takes off his guitar. “I need s-some air.” Luke suddenly then poofs out without another word.

Julie looks at the empty space where Luke was standing. She couldn’t figure out why Luke wasn’t in the right head space. He was always focused on the band, or at least he always seems to be. Julie takes her eyes from the dead space to Alex and Reggie who had sad looks on their faces. Reggie takes his bass off and sets it next to Luke’s guitar.

Julie steps off to the side of her keyboard. “What’s up with him?” she asks Alex and Reggie. They glance at each other before Alex steps away from his drums to standing next to Reggie.

“We’ve been thinking about an old friend from back in the 90’s,” Alex confesses.

Julie shrugs her shoulder, “Who? Bobby?”

Reggie shakes his head. “Gosh, no. I wouldn’t want to spend my spare time thinking about that song stealing dummy,” Reggie says in disgust.

“She wasn’t part of Sunset Curve. At least she didn’t perform with us. Her name was (Y/N),” Alex states, ignoring what Reggie said about Bobby.

“(Y/N)? How come I’ve never heard you guys talk about her?” Julie wonders. Both Alex and Reggie shrug their shoulders, unsure why they never talk about one of their best friends. “Well, who was she then?”

A slight smile grew on Alex and Reggie as they thought of (Y/N). Alex started to reminisce the memories of his old friend, “She was one of the most important people in our lives. She helped us with our struggles, helped us study, came to almost all of our gigs, helped us get gigs… she was just the glue of Sunset Curve. We wouldn’t hardly function as a band if it wasn’t for her. She was even the one who got us the gig at the Orpheum…”

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and Sunset Curve was writing a new song for their new demo. They wanted to make new songs as they always perform the same songs at every gig. “Hey boys,” Luke calls out. Bobby was playing random notes on his guitar, Alex was trying balance his drumstick on his index finger, and Reggie was catching dust. They all turned to Luke who had written some stuff in his song book. “How does this sound? When all the days felt black and white those were the best shades of my life!” Luke sings.

“Dang, Luke!” Bobby exclaimed. “That’s really good! How did you come up with that?”

“I don’t know. It just came to me!” Luke smirks. “I’m also half way done with the song!”

“It’s been, what, 30 minutes and you’re already half way done?!” Alex says. Luke nods his head as he writes down more in his journal. Next thing they know, they hear clicking heels coming from the driveway. They all look up to see (Y/N) with a huge smile on her face.

“Uh, oh. Here comes trouble,” Luke teases. “What’s got you all smiley, babes?”

(Y/N) stops at the entry way of the studio. “Well, I have some pretty big news to tell you boys!” she says, shifting her weight from the balls of her feet to her feels.

“What? You got the best SAT’s scores of the school?” Bobby asks.

“You’re graduating a semester early?” then asks Alex.

“No! You got us a puppy?!” Reggie asks excitedly. The boys looked at Reggie as if he asked the most absurd question ever.

(Y/N) giggled, “As much as I would love to give you a puppy, Reggie, you are incorrect. All of you are incorrect. I just did the best thing that is ever going to happen to Sunset Curve!”

Luke raised an eyebrow, curious at what his girlfriend could have done. “What did you do?” The group slowly walks towards (Y/N). Her smile thinned out as she took a pause for dramatic effect. However, the boys were anticipatingly waiting for her to say something. “WHAT?!” they outburst.

(Y/N) chuckled at the band, and she took out a piece of paper from her back pocket. She cleared her throat dramatically before readings out loud, “Dear Miss (Y/L/N). Thank you for sending us Sunset Curve’s demo and sharing their amazing talent. We would like to offer them the chance of a lifetime. On July 22nd, we would like to invite Sunset Curve to perform here at the…” (Y/N) looks up at the guys who got even closer to her and each other.

“Perform where?!” Reggie shouts.

(Y/N) smiles even wider than ever before she throws her arms in the air and shouts, “TO PERFORM AT THE ORPHEUM BABY!” All four boy’s eyes widened and screamed out happy cheers. Luke tackles (Y/N) in the biggest hug. She wraps her legs around his waist as he ran to the drive way to spin her around.

“This is amazing!” Luke exclaimed, putting his girlfriend down. “You really are our lucky charm!” (Y/N) blushes at the compliment. Luke then presses his lips to hers to give her a sweet kiss. She smiles in the kiss as she is the happiest she has ever been.

“Hey, Patterson. Let us give (Y/N/N) some lovin’!” Bobby tugged on Luke’s shoulders which makes the couple pull away from each other. Alex, Bobby, and Reggie then take their chance to hug (Y/N). Luke joined in by hugging her from behind. They boys thanked the girl over and over again as they were in their group hug.

“Guys!” (Y/N)’s voice muffled from the inside of the hug. “One of you guys need to put on deodorant. Plus, I can’t breathe in here!” They all laughed at her and pulled away from the hug, but Luke kept his arms wrapped around the girl from behind.

“What would we do without you?” Alex smiles.

(Y/N) let out a playful sigh, “I don’t know. Never be able to play anywhere?” She giggled at her own joke. Luke sneaks in a kiss on the cheek. “Alright boys, you need to start rehearsing now that you have this mega-important life changing gig! I will order some pizza and soda so we can celebrate even more tonight!”

“You’re the best (Y/N)!” Bobby says before walking back into the studio with Alex and Reggie.

“You really are the best,” Luke whispers in (Y/N) ear. She turns around and gives him a peck on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too”

Julie felt her heart drop at the thought of Luke hurting even more for leaving behind two of the most important women in is life. Luke is not that open about his past life. Julie couldn’t imagine the pain he has been going through. Alex and Reggie had tears welling up in their eyes as they finished telling the story of how they booked the Orpheum gig. Her mind wandered to a song that she saw when she was flipping through Luke’s song book when Luke wanted to show her Sunset Curve songs. She remembered walking to the studio to hear Luke singing a song she never heard before, but she recognized some of the lyrics from his song book. “She sounds amazing. Do you guys have an old photo of her at all?” Julie questions.

Reggie looks at Alex, knowing he has a picture. “Yeah, I do actually. However, Luke doesn’t know, so please don’t tell him we have this,” Alex says, walking over to his fanny pack that was near his drums.

Julie tilts her head to the side in confusion, “Why doesn’t he know about you having a picture of her?”

Alex grabs his fanny pack and unzips it. “Luke’s been pretty happy recently, but I know that thinking about (Y/N) makes him a little sad. I would hate to show him a picture that brings back all these happy memories to make him sad that they didn’t get to have more of a life together,” Alex explains. Julie slowly nods her head.

Alex reaches in his back and grabs the polaroid picture. He walks back to Julie and hands her the photo. She slightly smiles at the picture. It was of (Y/N) and Luke. (Y/N) had a big smile on her face as Luke was giving her a kiss on the cheek. You could see the pure happiness radiating from the photograph. “Wow, she’s really pretty. Luke was a lucky guy!” Julie compliments. “You know, I’m sure Luke would love to have this picture. I think it’s time you guys should give it to him.”

Julie hands the picture back to Alex. Reggie started to play with his fingers nervously. Alex analyzes the picture in his hand and puts it in his back pocket. “We should probably go look for him,” Alex says quietly. Reggie nods his head and stands closer to Alex. Julie gives the boys a slight smile before they poofed out of the studio.

*****

Luke was sitting at the beach, the water hitting his feet when it came to shore. He watched the sunset which was helping him calm down. Him and (Y/N) liked to come to the beach and watch the sunrise, the sunset, and star gaze all the time! This was their spot when they wanted to get away from everyone and have a bit of privacy with just them two. They would invite the band sometimes to have bonfires and eat s’mores after a gig. Luke watched the lifers around him playing in the water and having fun at the beach. He wished he could join the teenagers jamming in a big circle across the beach.

Suddenly, he hears a poof behind him. He turns around to see Alex and Reggie. “Well, you guys found me,” Luke quietly says, turning back to face the sunset. In his peripheral vision, he saw his friends sit on both sides of him, Alex on his right and Reggie on his left.

“I figured you would be here. You are kind of predicable sometimes,” Alex says. Luke nods his head slightly, agreeing with Alex. “What’s up, Luke?”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh. He takes a handful of sun and lets it fall in-between his fingers. “I just..” he starts. “I just wish I could see her again. I wish I could hold her. I want to know how she’s doing. I wish I knew where she was, so I could see her one last time…”

Reggie patted Luke’s back to try to comfort him, “It’s okay, buddy. I know we all wish we could see her again.”

Luke shakes his head, angry tears forming in his eyes. “Sometimes I wish we didn’t die when we did. There was so much we wanted to do as a band, and there was so much I wanted to do with (Y/N),” Luke exclaims.

Luke shifts his weight to the left to reach in his front pocket. What he takes out of his pocket shocks Alex and Reggie. Luke is holding their best friends charm bracelet. “Wait, you’ve had this this whole time?” Alex asks. Luke nods his head, a tear finally falling on his cheek. Luke turns the bracelet to have the clover charm facing him.

“I found it at my parent’s house. When I first went there to visit them, I went to look at my room to see if anything changed. I found it on my bed with some of my flannels she stole. I don’t know why she would give it back. Maybe because looking at it gave her so much pain. I can’t imagine the pain she went through,” Luke explains.

Alex glances at Reggie who had tears brewing in his eyes as well. He suddenly became anxious as he wasn’t sure how Luke was about to react with what Alex was about to give him. He nervously fidgets before he speaks, “I actually have something to show you.”

Luke turns his gaze to Alex. Alex opens his fanny pack to reach for the photograph. Luke looks at his friend’s hand to see the polaroid picture. He hesitantly grabs the photo. He lets out a sad chuckle. It was the picture of (Y/N) and Luke. “Where did you find this?” Luke asks.

“I found it when I found our stuff upstairs in the loft. I’m sorry I didn’t give this to you earlier,” Alex apologizes.

Luke shakes his head to dismiss Alex’s apology. He studies the picture of the two of them. He remembered this day vividly. It was him and (Y/N)’s first date. He had taken her to a drive-in movie and ice cream. The picture was taken right before the movie had started. (Y/N) had always taken polaroid pictures for the memories. She had given this to Luke because she wanted him to remember that day, but how could he forget? He would never forget her or the memories they shared.

(Y/N) and Luke were setting up the back of his truck before the movie. Luke was spreading out the blanket and pillows while (Y/N) was grabbing the snacks from the front. Once they finished, they jumped in the trunk and started to get comfortable. “Are you excided?” Luke asks (Y/N).

She pulls the blanket to her lap, “Yes! I’ve always wanted to go to a drive-in movie!” Luke smiles at her excitedness.

“I know!” Luke says. (Y/N) slightly smiles and looks down at her lap, blushing. “Which snack would you like to eat first, m’lady?” he asks in a dramatic British accent.

(Y/N) giggles. “Hmmm, why sir pass me the sour gummy worms!” she replies too in a silly British accent.

Luke chuckles, grabs the snack, and hands it to her. She opens the bag and takes out a blue and red gummy worm. She eats the blue side first and looks at Luke who was watching her the whole time. She could feel her cheeks getting warmer. She flicks her wrist to give the red side of the gummy worm to Luke. He looks at the gummy worm before grabbing it and taking a bite. “This is crazy, you know?” (Y/N) admits.

Luke sits up a bit and furrows his brows. “How?” he questions.

She shrugs. “I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Sitting here.. on a date.. with one of my best friends who I’ve had a crush on for forever. I never thought it would actually happen.”

She kept her gaze on her lap, playing with a gummy worm. Luke cocks his head to the side to try to get her to look at him. However, she continues to look down. He takes his hand and pushes her chin gently to face her towards him. She looks into his green eyes. “Well, you better believe it because I wouldn’t want to be on a date with anyone else,” he says. He tilts her head down and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

(Y/N) then remembered that she had her camera in her bag. “Wait!” she exclaims. Luke moves to the side a bit as she reaches for her bag that is behind them. She unzips her bag to grab her polaroid camera. “I want to take a picture!”

“How come you always bring that where ever you go?” Luke wonders.

She fidgets the camera in her hands. “I want to create memories. I want to remember my adventures and experiences. I want to remember it all, so I take pictures,” she says, checking to see if she has enough film.

Luke smiles, “That’s amazing!”

(Y/N) scoots closer to Luke and angles the camera up to get them both in frame. They smile, getting ready to take the picture. He then had an idea for a great picture. Right as she pushes the button, he kisses her cheek. (Y/N) smiles even wider and lets out a slight giggle. The film shoots out and she grabs the photo. She looks at Luke who was smiling like a kid in a candy store. You could see the love and adore in his eyes. Luke flicks his eyes to her lips for a second, but it was enough for her to notice. He leans in, but she stops him. “I thought you weren’t supposed to kiss until after the date. Or even on the first date at all?” (Y/N) jokes.

“We can be different,” Luke smirks before giving her a kiss. As his lips touch her, she takes in a large breath and leans forward in the kiss. He takes his hand and places it on her cheek to deepen the kiss. Butterflies were flying around in their stomachs. (Y/N) pulls away slowly.

Luke opens his eyes to see her cheeks were bright red. “The movies about to start,” (Y/N) says. He chuckles and pecks her lips one more time. They shift around to where they were laying down, resting on the pillows behind them. (Y/N)’s head rested on Luke’s shoulder. She grabs the bag of sour gummy worms and takes a handful out. “Gummy worms?” she asks Luke.

Luke looks down to see her handing him some gummy worms. “Don’t mind if I do,” he says and takes the candy out of her hand to place it on his chest. As the movie starts, Luke smiles to himself. He’s on one of many dates him and (Y/N) will be on, and he couldn’t wait.

Luke didn’t notice that he was full on sobbing when he was reminiscing on the past. He suddenly felt a hand rubbing his back, trying to comfort him. He looks to see Reggie comforting him. Luke pats Reggie on the back to thank him. “It’s okay to be sad, Luke,” Alex says. Luke looks at Alex and nods. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

Luke thins his lip in a sad smile. Luke puts the photo and the bracelet back in his front pocket. He wipes his wet face and sniffs the snot that his slightly falling out of his nose. “Let’s get back to the studio. Even though we don’t sleep, I need a nap,” Luke says, getting up and wiping the sand off of his pants.

Luke looks around the beach once more to see the lifers having fun. Alex and Reggie follow Luke’s actions and stand up as well. Luke walks towards the teenagers still playing their guitars and singing around the fire. He watches them smile and laugh with one another. Alex places his hand on Luke’s shoulder to signal that they should leave.

Before they poofed back to the studio, Luke noticed someone in the distance. He saw someone watching the group of teenagers like he was. He noticed the (Y/H/C) girl wiping away a tear from her eye. Then, their eyes connected. He recognized those (Y/E/C) eyes. He squints and walks closer to get a better look. He halted as he got a little closer. His heart beat quickened at the sight of her.

“(Y/N)?” he whispered before the girl poofed away. Luke’s breath started to quicken as he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Luke?” Reggie called out. Luke turned around. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I just saw (Y/N)!”

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #jatp luke #japt #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine

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charlies-gillespie · 3 years

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unsaid emily | charlie gillespie (part 2)

PART ONE

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: it’s been a year and a half since reader and charlie have seen each other, and both have never stopped loving the other

length: long

rating: PG

warnings: a little language, more upset!charlie, more emotions, angst, a lil bit of fluff

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

author’s note: for the sake of the imagine and my sanity, the band name is going to be ‘sunset swerve’ because i’m not creative enough to come up with something better

another author’s note: i apologize ahead of time for typos. i wrote most this in the middle of the night when i couldn’t sleep. let’s blame any typos on my sleep deprivation

Your best friend shows up at your door at 5. They knock loudly and yell, “Y/N! Hurry up! We’re gonna be late.”

They invited you to see their favorite band live. You have never heard of the band ‘Sunset Swerve’ so you have no idea why you agreed to go in the first place.

Quickly, you grab your phone and your ticket to get into the venue before opening the door. Your best friend stands there in a Sunset Swerve t-shirt and jeans. You blink at them and say, “You’re going all in.”

“Of course,” they say in reply. “Anyway. Doors open in like thirty minutes. Let’s go. I want a good spot since we have general admission tickets.”

You’ve never even heard of Sunset Swerve. You probably should’ve listened to some of their songs before agreeing to go with your best friend.

Your best friend drives off to Times Square in New York. That’s where the concert is being held. It’s been a long time since your last concert, over two years. You used to go to concerts all the time with Charlie before you broke up.

Y/BFF/N finds a parking spot then the two of you find your way to the line. There aren’t a lot of people here yet and doors open in fifteen minutes. While waiting for the doors to open, you look up some of Sunset Swerve’s songs. They have a demo out but they sing a couple unreleased songs when performing.

The doors open before you get a chance to listen to one of their songs. Your best friend quickly pulls you inside. You get your tickets checked and you get wristbands put on your wrists for general admission. Your best friend practically runs to get as close to the stage as they can get. You follow them.

Both of you get close to barricade. You’re only about six feet from the barricade and eight feet from the stage. You hope your best friend is satisfied with the spot you both got.

“Y/N,” your best friend says. “Have you heard any of their songs?”

You make a face and say, “Only when you listen to them, I’m only here because you couldn’t find anyone else to come with you and you accidently bought two tickets.”

They laugh and say, “That’s true. Let me at least tell you a little bit about them. They’re based in Los Angeles and they formed maybe a year or so ago. There are three of them in the band.”

A red flag goes off in your head. A three man band from Los Angeles that formed about a year ago. That sounds too familiar.

You turn toward your best friend and ask, “Y/BFF/N, who are the members of this band?”

“Jeremy Shada, Owen Joyner, and-” Guitar chords are played, cutting your best friend off before she can say the name of the third member. The stage lights dim and drums are played. The thousands of fans around you scream in excitement. You stand there, almost frozen.

An all too familiar voice says, “Times Square, are you ready to rock out with Sunset Swerve?”

Your heart drops into your stomach as you watch Jeremy and your ex-boyfriend, Charlie, walk out onto the stage. Your eyes widen as you hear Charlie play the beginning chords to Late Last Night. Your best friend jams out beside you but your eyes are on Charlie.

His hair has grown a lot. He wears a cutoff tank top with jeans. It’s still Charlie in front of you. The lights are probably so bright that he can’t see you but you can see him clearly since you’re about ten feet away from him.

Once the song has ended, the crowd cheers.

Owen says into his microphone, “Who here has never seen Sunset Swerve before?” A bunch of people scream and your best friend raises your hand in the air, even though you protest.

“No no no,” you mumble.

Your eyes are still on the stage and you see Charlie look directly at you since Y/BFF/N put your hand in the air for you. You stare up at him and inhale sharply when you make eye contact with your ex. Charlie’s eyes widen as Jeremy says something along the lines of “you okay?” Charlie just nods and steps to his microphone. “It’s nice to see some old and new faces in the crowd tonight,” he says.

The crowd cheers again as Charlie smiles, looking around the New York Crowd. He waits a second before he says, “This next song is one I wrote about a year and a half or so ago when I made what was probably the worst mistake of my life.” He switches from an electric to an acoustic guitar. “This is called Unsaid Y/N.”

You take a deep breath and your best friend looks over at you. You sigh softly as the beginning chords are played.

First things first We start the scene in reverse All of the lines rehearsed Disappeared from my mind

“Y/N?” your best friend says. “You never told me that you knew him, or any of them.”

With a shrug, you say, “It’s not a time in my life that I was happy about.”

When things got loud One of us running out I should've turned around But I had too much pride

Yeah, he should’ve turned around. You were just heated in the moment when you told him to get out. When he left, he never came back.

You look back at the stage to see that Charlie’s eyes are on you. He’s practically singing this song to you.

No time for goodbyes Didn't get to apologize Pieces of a clock that lies broken

“I should’ve known since he named the song after you,” your best friend says. “It’s kind of cool how he wrote a song about you.”

With a sigh, you say, “He ran out the first chance he got. I don’t even think he wanted to be with me anymore at that point.”

If I could take us back, if I could just do that And write in every empty space the words "I love you" in replace Then maybe time would not erase me If you could only know I'd never let you go And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Y/N

Y/BFF/N says, “Wait, you dated Charlie Gillespie and never told me? You knew how big of a fan I am of them.”

“I didn’t know he was in a band, Y/BFF/N,” you say. “He was distant from me for the last of our relationship. The band explains it.”

In that moment, a wave of guilt hits you. He was spending time with the guys and getting the band together. You should’ve been more understanding, but instead you acted like a child and threw a temper tantrum when he wouldn’t give you attention.

Silent days, mysteries and mistakes Who'd be the first to break? Guess we're alike that way He said, she said Conversations in my head And that's just where they're gonna stay forever

You feel tears well in your eyes and you make it a mission to find Charlie after the show was over. Charlie’s crying up on stage too. You can see the emotion in his eyes and his cheeks wet from tears that have spilled over his eyelids.

Your best friend looks between you and Charlie before saying, “You still love him.” It wasn’t a question.

With no hesitation, you say, “Yeah, I do.”

Then the song ends and you clap. A smile forms on your face and Charlie looks at you. He lets out a little laugh away from his microphone. Jeremy claps him on the back and the show continues.

***

Immediately after the guys leave the stage, you and your best friend walk off to find out where the band went. They have to be around here somewhere.

As you try to enter the backstage area, a security guard stops you. “Only VIPs are allowed back here, ma’am,” he says.

“Please,” you beg. “I need to talk to Charlie. You don’t understand. That song, Unsaid Y/N. That’s me. I’m Y/N. I need to talk to him.”

The security guard says, “I’ve heard that one before. Move along, fangirl.”

You look at your best friend and you’re about to give up when you hear, “Y/N”. The voice came from behind you.

Quickly, you spin around. In the thinning crowd, you see Charlie standing less than ten feet away from you. You stand, frozen in shock that he’s standing in front of you.

After the moment sinks in, you run to Charlie and fling your arms around him. “I’m sorry,” you sob, burying your face in the crook of Charlie’s neck. “I was the one acting like a child that night.”

Charlie wraps his arms tight around your waist and he says, “I was the one that walked out and just never came back.”

“I wish I could take it all back,” you cry. “I didn’t want you to go, Charlie. I wanted you to stay. I know that it didn’t seem like it but I did want you to stay.”

He says, “You threw a glass at my head, Y/N. It didn’t seem like you wanted me to stay.”

You pull back a bit and look up at Charlie. Both your faces are wet with tears as you say, “I didn’t want you to go contrary to what my actions said. Actions speak louder than words, blah blah, but I really didn’t want you to go.”

His hands move to cup your cheeks and you lean into his touch, sighing softly. “I had a surprise I was getting ready for you,” Charlie admits. “I was writing a song for you that I was going to sing to you when I proposed to you. I just needed one more day.”

“You were planning to propose?” you ask, half in shock of Charlie’s confession.

Charlie laughs and says, “I wouldn’t become distant from you without a good reason, Y/N. I just couldn’t actually tell you what I was doing or it would’ve ruined my surprise.”

A little laugh escapes your lips and you say, “Now I feel like an ass.”

He shakes his head and says, “No, you had every right to be upset with me. I understand how it looked now and I promise you that I will never become distant from you again.”

You stare up into Charlie’s pretty hazel eyes and you say, “I trust you.”

His thumb wipes away from fresh tears and he asks, “Can I, um, can I kiss you?”

You nod as Charlie leans into you, pressing his lips to yours softly. Your heart pounds in your chest as if it’s the first time he’s kissing you again. Both of you hear a “whoop” behind you but it doesn’t break you apart.

Eventually, Charlie pulls back and says, “Come back to Los Angeles. The house is empty without you.”

“Let me talk it over with Y/BFF/N,” you say.

Then you hear someone shout, “Go back to Los Angeles. I’ll come with you. I’ve always wanted to go to LA.”

You and Charlie both laugh before you say, “Looks like I’m moving back to Los Angeles.”

Charlie smiles and hugs you, lifting you up and spinning you around. You giggle and wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

He puts you down and he says, “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” you admit to him. “I never stopped either.”

The smile on Charlie’s lips gets wider before you bring him down to you again, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Owen says, “Okay, get a room. Before then, can we go get some food.”

Charlie laughs and pulls back from the kiss. “So, Y/N,” he says. “What are some good places to eat around here?”

#charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp imagines #jatp imagine #imagines #imagine #charlie gillespie angst #charlie gillespie fluff #angst imagine #fluff imagines

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gxccistyless · 3 years

Text

Fine Line: The Divorce Series - part two.

In case you missed part one you can find it here. Feedback always appreciated in any form. Feel free to message me if you have any questions!!

Trigger warnings for this include; mentions of death, drug and alcohol abuse.

It’s ten passed twelve when Eliza opens her eyes for the first time, she hadn’t slept a good nights sleep since Fallon’s diagnosis but last night she didn’t wake not once.They had her funeral yesterday, she doesn’t remember much, she thinks this is probably partially why she was able to sleep so well, knowing that Fallon was finally resting at her forever home. Harry helped to organise the funeral and had been more available to both her and their other two children in the lead up to it and insisted in paying for it in full. But yesterday was too much for him, he left somewhere between the wake and the kids’ bed time and Eliza hadn’t heard from him since. Harry woke up in his apartment for the first time in weeks, he’d be living at Eliza’s in the spare room from the time when things got to be too much for Eliza to handle on her own. He missed his bed and the peace and quiet, but he’d never allow himself to say those words out loud. Right in between losing her and laying her to rest, they celebrated her birthday. Gemma thought it would be a good idea to acknowledge the day instead of pushing it to the side, Harry just kind of wanted to push through and try and get through the day, but Eliza liked the idea of being able to blow out a candle for Fallon and so to appease his ex-wife’s needs and support her through her grief, Harry bit his tongue And they did just that, celebrated her.

elizadoherty 4 years ago you made me a mama sweet angel baby Fallon. I miss you, thanks for changing my life 🕊 Liked by harrystyles, niallhoran and 12,378,346 others,

The funeral came around quicker than he had anticipated, it kind of crept up on him. After today things would go back to the way they were before Fallon got sick snd Harry wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. He wasn’t ready to be away from Koa and Lennon, or even Eliza for that matter. Everyone was so wrapped up in supporting Eliza on the day, they had forgot that Harry had lost a child too. So distracted by Eliza, no one noticed Harry when he slipped out in the middle of her wake, no one but Eliza.

There was no communication between the two in the weeks that followed, he locked himself in the studio with only a select few people and she was trying to get back to somewhat of a normal routine with the twins. He was making good progress with an album, it wasn’t as upbeat as previous albums had been but it just reflected what he was going through and how he was feeling. With no communication and his lack of interest in their other two children Eliza goes ahead and books a court date to finalise their divorce. Harry is leaving the studio when he gets words of the court date being set, he heads straight to the bar. Harry is on his sixth drink when he finally gets a hold of Eliza. I miss you he tells her We just lost — we just — how can you even be thinking about finalising our divorce. She cries and that’s when he knows he’s fucked up. Eliza don’t cry, I’m sorry, I’m such a fuck up, it should have been me, not her... Eliza knows she should hang up the phone, call Gemma let her deal with him and go back to bed. Instead she asks Harry for his location, calls a sitter and by the time she heads to the bar its almost 10pm.

Eliza finds Harry in the corner booth, away from prying eyes and away from windows with his back toward the rest of the people in the pub. By now he’s lost count of how many drinks he’s consumed. She orders herself a scotch on the rocks. The bartender looks between her and Harry and wonders what they must be going through to have lead them here tonight. They sit in silence mostly, Harry throwing back three drinks in the time it tasked Eliza to finish the one she ordered herself when she first got here. The bartender draws a line in the sand and cuts Harry off, he pays for his long bar tab remembering to ask the bartender to include Elizas scotch on the rocks and then he goes to leave.

Harry makes it all the way to his car before realising he cannot find his keys. When he reaches the bar door she’s standing out front her arms crossed over her chest,p. You didn’t think I’d let you drive home in your state did you? My children have already buried their sister this year, I’m not about to let them bury their father too. The words Eliza said to drunk Harry would play on sober minded Harry in the weeks to come. She half carries him to her car and takes him home with her. For the first time since they split, he sleeps in the same bed as her it’s only so I know if you stop breathing and to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit. Eliza watches Harry breathe for the rest of the night, much like she watched Fallon take breaths in and out until she took her last, the only difference here is that Harry never stops breathing. Somewhere between 4am and 7am she doses off and Harry slips out of her sheets and out her back door before she’s awake. Eliza canceled their court date again, realising that perhaps Harry needed time to grieve before they started to go down this path.

harrystyles ALBUM . IS. COMPLETE, Coming to you soon, happy holidays. All the love, H xx Liked by annetwist, gemmastyles and 20,368,289 others.

Harry finished writing his album just before Christmas, it was literally the fastest album he’s ever been able to write. After all this time and experience, he knew the people he needed in his space to get the job done. A lot of the songs were sad, and Eliza knew that some songs would be about her and she fully expected some songs to be about Fallon, so when he turned up at her place to show her the demo she was surprised to find no songs about their angel daughter. Eliza, that’s sick that you’d think I’d cash in on — no why would I — I can’t believe you would think that. He was angry, didn’t see she was coming from a good place and not trying to attack him. She didn’t think it would be a bad thing if he had written songs about Fallon, she was growing concerned about his abilities to deal with the loss of their daughter... he couldn’t even say her name. He was trying to be more consciences to spend more time with Koa and Lennon. With the album complete it was only a matter of time before his management would undoubtedly have him on the road and all over the globe. Truthfully he was dreading it. He spent most afternoons putting the children to bed before bedding back to his house. He noticed things about her that were different in the Fallon aftermath. She was lonely at night, and when Koa and Lennon were out with him of an afternoon she had not so much to do. She had already organised the bookshelf, and the kitchen. Harry knew what the perfect Christmas gift would be to keep her busy.

Whilst she had redecorated the lounge and her bedroom. Fallon’s room remained untouched, the door closed and the room just the way their almost four year old had left it the day she left for the hospital and never come home. Sometimes when he would finish putting the twins to bed and when Eliza was sleeping on the couch, he would sneak into Fallon’s room and sob. Being in her room was the only time he allowed himself to feel anything.

elizadoherty Happy holidays from the Doherty-Styles household, wrangling two and half year old twins into a photo is hard work and this mama couldn’t get it done. Please enjoy a photo of our delicious cookie “nomies” that are absolutely not store bought. 😝🎅🏻🎄🤶🏻 Liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 2,637,367 others.

harrystyles ELIZA X OLIVE. Merry Christmas. Liked by elizadoherty, olivedogherty and 18,573,663 others,

Harry’s album came out the week of Christmas. With the new year there would be lots of changes coming for both him, Eliza and their two children. He would be off on tour, first to the states then, back home for a UK stint, followed by the rest of Europe, then to South America wrapping up with Australia, New Zealand and a few dates across Asia. He wouldn’t be home for more than two days in the next nine months. This bothered Eliza. Partly because she wanted him to be home so they could finalise the divorce, partly because she wouldn’t have his help with the twins and mostly because he had already lost one child, had he not noticed the importance of having quality time with his children. She had already been annoyed by the fact that he had bought a dog into her home and gifted it to her for Christmas, she didn’t have time for a dog.. she would barely have time for herself and the two kids he was leaving behind to go on tour, and he though a doh would be a good idea?

Her thoughts all come to a head in the middle of an argument on New Years Eve. We need to finalise the divorce, we both deserve to move on. He didn’t want to move on, he liked being able to come by see her, and the kids and still be able to know she was legally still his wife. You don’t care about me and the kids, you’re not even going to see them for the next nine months, don’t tell me you care. He was mad, not because she was right but because he wanted to see them but didn’t know how to ask her to join him on tour with them. I never wanted to divorce you. You’re the one who filed for divorce Eliza. It’s Eliza’s turn to be mad. Well there was no hope for our marriage, we hadn’t had sex in months, you were sleeping on the couch, what the fuck kind of marriage is that. It wasn’t a healthy argument for the tel of them to be having, especially with the twins in the next room. I was a drug addict Eliza, I was also an alcoholic, I couldn’t really walk up the stairs, that’s why I slept on the couch not because I didn’t love you. He had stormed out, the following day he had booked in with his lawyers to come back the last week of February for their court date and two days after that he was back on tour.

harrystyles USA thank you for being the perfect start to this tour, you were all so beautiful! I’ll be back soon. All the love, H xx. Liked by annetwist, gemmastyles and 27,627,855 others.

January rolled by faster than she would like to admit. Harry was back in London briefly to see the twins, Anne picked them up and took them to him as per his request. His birthday was tomorrow, Eliza offered for him to keep them for the weekend whilst he was in town, but he had other plans and declined her offer. She’s trying to give you time with your children. Anne nagged him, but her words fell on deaf ears. He had plans to drink his way through his birthday and not be able to recall any of it. He woke in the morning to a voicemail from her. Harry, happy — well i know it’s not happy really — but happy birthday. I’m sorry about the divorce papers, I was... reaaaaalllyyy dumb. Anyway, see ya. She had been drinking, she could never hold her liquor. He remembers back to a time pre marriage and pre children when she would go out and have a few too many cocktails and call him from the bar, he remembers driving to fetch her, pulling over on the side of the road because his driving would be too much for her stomach to handle. He thinks about the way he used to hold her when she was too tired to walk and then the way he’d hold her in bed as her breath would steady and she’d finally succumb to the effects of the alcohol and sleep. God he loved her.

elizadoherty HBD to my #1 (And only) bb daddy, @harrystyles, you’re a great dad, friend and I’m so glad I get to raise my babies with you. Here’s a throwback to when we were younger and when you had less wrinkles, old man. Liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 18,257,268 others. He made a mental note to return her the favour of nice words on social media when her birthday would roll around come summer. They were younger and happier in that photo. He wouldn’t wish his kids away, but he does wish he could go back to being that happy, young and carefree guy in the photo.

After his birthday, things continued to go downhill for the two of them and their co-parenting endeavour. It started when he was photographed leaving a nightclub with a random girl on his arm the night of his birthday and things escalated when a week before their court date she had been photographed with someone new. This was the first time since the two of them had started dating all those years ago that they had been photographed with someone else.

TMZ

Harry Styles ex-wife, Eliza Doherty, spotted out with new mystery beau shopping over the weekend.

It was the comments left the photo that sent Eliza into a rage. “Where are her kids?” “Spending all of Harry’s alimony I guess” that’s all the end of their marriage was to the public? Just about money? Never mind the emotional turmoil either of them had gone through, the sleepless nights the days where she wouldn’t know if he would make it home. The public didn’t understand, and never would, what it wad to be like Eliza Styles. On top of the public ridicule, Harry of course had to get his two cents worth in. I don’t want you bringing random guys around the twins. It was a harmless comment and something she would surely say to him if she didn’t have manners or any kind of belief that he would be responsible with who he introduced their children to. Focus on yourself, Harry. And less on who I’m bringing home..

TMZ

reports of Harry Styles and ex-wife, Eliza Doherty, heading into court today to finalise their divorce after almost a year snd a half. He wore a black shirt and a cross earring for the occasion.

Harry was trending on twitter and the photo and article from TMZ were attached to every tweet. Most people agreed he didn’t look himself. Everyone agreed it was inappropriate to take the photo and then post it to the masses but here it was for everyone to see. Eliza shook her head and put her phone away, soon enough she’d be in the same room as him for the first time since New Year’s Eve.

She had never been more scared to see him, hadn’t heard from him personally for the entire first leg of his tour, which even when they were having problems was odd. Perhaps he was still angry, she had moved passed the anger stage and into the sad stage pretty quickly, it had been like this throughout their entire relationship. She would get over things quickly whilst he would hold onto things for days and days at one time. Harry knew based off of her voicemail that she had been ready to move passed the argument on New Year’s Eve, and he was almost on the same page as her and then they argued about partners and children and things had again been sour since.

As soon as the time drew closer she began to feel like she couldn’t breathe. Like she might collapse at any second and never wake up again, like someone had taken all the air out of her lungs and out of this building. She used to enjoy the way her heart would skip a beat and the way her lungs would lose all the air when he entered her orbit, but now the feeling made her sick to her stomach. For the first time in a long time she couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same room as him.

Part of him didn’t want to be here. This was partially to do with the fact that last night he had drank his body weight in alcohol, was very hungover and couldn’t think straight, but it was mostly to do with the fact that he couldn’t stand to see her cry and knew there was a good chance with the way they left things off that he might be the reason for her tears.

He reeked of vodka and scotch and tequila and definitely weed, at least that’s all the things that Eliza could smell as he sat across from her. He was using again, or drinking again at the very least. It made her sad, he had worked so hard to get to a good place. Perhaps this was his way of coping, his way of dealing with Fallon dying. His way of forgetting about his problems. It wasn’t healthy, she’d make a note to talk to Gemma and Anne when she got back to the kids later in the afternoon.

He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all since the last time she saw him some five weeks ago now — which would make sense because she hadn’t slept properly in that long either. His shirt was creased and it was a mess, he looked unkempt which was a rare sight. Mismatched socks, untucked shirt, the pants he was wearing just as creased as his shirt was. His hair was longer than usual— he was letting it grow again... was this even any of her business anymore? — It probably wasn’t but she still examined him from head to toe, He’s wearing his shades inside, what an asshole she thinks. He was almost unrecognisable. He was most definitely no longer her Harry. She didn’t care make eye contact with him, and he extended the same courtesy not that he had much of s choice in the matter. Mr Styles is offering Ms Doherty 50% of all his assets, as of this time that part has not changed. Ms. Doherty would be happy to only 25%, your honour. She feels it’s adequate enough to provide for the children, she has a job and doesn’t require 50%. Mr Styles insists in the 50%, even 25% of it were to go into a fund for the children.

Her lawyer looks to her for approval, even though she really doesn’t need Harry’s money, she doesn’t want to argue with him.

Mr Styles would like joint custody of their two children, Koa Everett Styles and Lennon River Styles. Your honour, Mrs Doherty requests that the father of her children submits to drug and alcohol tests and has supervised visitations until he can get himself — uh well... clean. The judge rules in her favour, Harry has to pass three tests in a row for both drugs and alcohol before he can come anywhere near the twins. The rest esd pretty straight forward and not much different to what they had already signed on, she got the house and would receive child support on top of the 50% of the money they made from the time they first got married. Harry doesn’t see his children till two days before their third birthdays, almost three months after the court hearing. It had taken him three months but this time he swore to keep clean.

elizadoherty happy three my miracle babes, there are no words 🥺 Liked by gemmastyles, annetwist and 4,472,378 others.

A month after the twins’ birthday it’s Eliza who changes the agreement for supervision required to him being allowed to do visits at their house. Both the twins and Harry would be much more comfortable and if would give her more of a chance to observe him with them before she lets them stay with him overnight. He’s the one who suggests they go to therapy. He tells her it might help, and that he’s willing to try anything so long as she is too. The first session back in therapy goes well, they haven’t done one together since just after the twins were born. They mostly discuss how to co-parent better and how to communicate with each other, the therapist warns to discuss Fallon and Harry practically has a panic attack at the mention of her name. When he instantly gets up and walks out on the session it’s just you and the therapist and 20 minutes left on the timer. I don’t think he’s ready to talk about her yet. It’s a sensitive topic for him. It hasn’t quite been a year yet since she passed. He won’t even talk about her with me and that was out daughter. When Eliza gets home, Harry is on her doorstep. He’s sober, but crying and hyperventilating. She sits next to him and just hugs him not really knowing what to do. Eliza prays that her boyfriend, Andrew, doesn’t come over today. Her prayers are answered Eliza and Harry are left on their own. He cries for a long period of time before the head inside her house, Eliza is silently grateful that Anne offered to take the kids to Holmes Chapel for the week. Where did we go wrong? We should have been better and communicating. I was depressed when I couldn’t tour straight away and then you let me go and honestly this is going to sound fucking terrible but I didn’t want to come home. So many confessions spill from his lips in a short space of time. Then Eliza starts. I just wanted you to be okay, you were struggling, I know you were depressed. I keep thinking about it, I don’t remember the last time we kissed or had sex, maybe it was before the twins were even born, we should have made more time. When she stops he’s not crying anymore he’s just staring at her with his eyebrows furrowed and then he does the unimaginable he kisses her. Not just a regular peck, his hands on the back of her head and her hands are on his chest and for just a moment they’re back in 2019 and they’re newly engaged and their wold is perfect. And then he pulls away, apologises and leaves and they are back to being divorced, estranged people who happen to share two children together.

#Harry styles #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles tpwk #hs2 #fine line #harry styles fine line #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader

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rhys-writes-sometimes · 3 years

Text

Music Worth Making Part 1: Bright Forever

Requested: nope!

Warnings: abuse, child neglect, shitty parents, death, food, terrible writing

Series Summery: When the reader’s life is ripped away from them, they’re distraught. But with her two best friends and three certain ghosts, maybe the afterlife isn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Summery: The band Sunset Curve was about to have a life-changing concert when they ate some bad hotdogs and died. 25 years later, you’re best friends with the girl who discovers them.

Words: 3,026

A/N: This is pretty much just introducing the characters and their relationships to one another. Things will get more interesting in the next few chapters.Also, the reader is non-binary! <3 lyrics are italicized Part 2 ______________________________________________________

Hollywood 1995

“Don’t look down, ‘cause we’re still rising up right now, and even if we hit the ground we’ll still fly, keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, but live it like it’s now or never.”

The teenaged boys finished their soundcheck, earning scattered applause and even a “whoo!” from the employees working at The Orpheum that night. The band didn’t try to hide their smiles as they took a bow.

“Thank you, we’re Sunset Curve!” one called out.

“Tell your friends!” another added.

“Too bad we wasted the tightest we’ve ever played on a soundcheck,” one said as they set down their instruments.

“Wait until tonight man, when this place gets packed with record execs.”

The boys all nodded, thinking of all the chances of fame they would have after that night.

“Okay, well, I’m thinking we fuel up before the show. I’m thinking street dogs?”

Two of the other boys liked that idea, but the other one had other plans.

Jumping off the stage, he started to make his way over to a young woman who was wiping down tables.

“Hey Bobby, where you going?” the one who had suggested they go get street dogs called out.

“I’m good!” he called out to his bandmates, then said to the girl: “Vegetarian. I could never hurt an animal.”

“You guys are really good,” she said with a smile as the other three guys joined their band member at her table. “I see a lot of bands. Been in a couple myself. I was really feeling it.”

The guys all smiled.

“That’s what we do this for,” one of them said. The tips of his chestnut colored hair almost reached the top of his shirt with cut off sleeves. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Reggie.” Reggie had black hair and was wearing a leather jacket with a red flannel tied around his waist. An interesting combination, but somehow the outfit worked.

“Alex.” A boy with blond hair spoke up from where he was hovering just to the side of the group, wearing a pale pink t-shirt.

“Bobby.” The boy who had first walked over to the girl had brown hair and a sleeveless jacket over a t-shirt.

“Nice meeting you guys. I’m Rose.” The girl smiled at all of them again as Luke licked his finger and stuck it in Bobby’s ear.

“Oh uh, here’s our demo, and a t-shirt, size beautiful.” Reggie handed Rose a CD and a t-shirt, earning a small groan from Alex.

“Thanks. I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables down with this one.”

“Oh, good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands,” Alex informed her.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?” Bobby asked, clearly wanting to talk to Rose without the other three around.

“Yeah.” Luke leaned closer to Rose, as if to tell her a secret. “He had a hamburger for lunch.”

-----

“Man, I can’t wait until we eat someplace where the condiments aren’t served out of the back of an Oldsmobile,” Alex grumbled as he put a pickle on his hot dog. “Hey, sorry, I got some pickle juice on your battery cables.”

“No problem. It’ll help with the rust,” the man cooking hot dogs said with a slight chuckle.

“That can’t….okay.”

The three made their way over to a couch to eat. Before they could dig in, however, Luke started speaking.

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing The Orpheum! I can’t even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Eat up, boys. ‘Cause after tonight, everything changes.”

They all bit down hungerly into their street dogs.

Alex was the first to notice that something was off. “That’s a new flavor,” he said, a small amount of worry creeping into his tone.

“Chill man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” Reggie tried to calm down his friend.

Luke hesitated for a moment, then took another huge bite.

-----

Los Angeles 2020

You made your way through the hallway, walking fast, faces pass, weaving around people as you tried to reach your locker. You smiled as you saw your two best friends waiting for you.

“Hey, underacheiver,” Flynn said in greeting.

“Hey, disappointments,” you joked back to them. “Okay, Julie, I know you don’t want me to ask, but have you figured out what you’re gonna do today?”

“I’ll know in the moment.” The frizzy-haired girl fiddled with her bracelets as she spoke, the only clue that she was nervous for her proformance later.

“Really, Jules? That’s all your giving us? Mrs. Harrison said-” Flynn was cut off from scolding one of her best friends.

“This is my last chance, I know, I was there,” Julie finished. Flynn smiled softly for a moment, but it turned to a grimace of disgust as she noticed a girl handing out flyers.

“Ugh, what is she handing out?” she questioned.

“Desperation?” you said, only half joking. Julie and Flynn snickered.

However, you put on a smile as the girl walked up to the three of you.

“Here you go. My group’s performing at the spirit rally tomorrow. I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” she said, her eyes sweeping over you critically as she handed the flyer to Flynn.

Flynn put on a bright, sarcastic smile. “Oh my gosh, Carrie, thanks!”

“Oh my gosh, Flynn, don’t bother coming!”

The three of you rolled your eyes at Carries retreating back. However, someone else caught Julie’s eye.

“Nick?” you asked, looking between Julie and the blond-haired boy she was staring at.

“Still?” Flynn asked. “You know they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

“Nick’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you’d actually have to talk to him to know that,” Flynn said with a small smile. “And only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby.”

You nodded your approval of this statement as Flynn called out “Demon!” in Carrie’s direction.

The three of you turned towards the lockers and laughed quietly.

“There’s that smile,” Flynn said, lightly poking both you and Julie’s face. “Now come on, let’s go prove everybody wrong.”

You flinched slightly as she put her arm around you, but tried not to show it.

-----

“Okay, we have one last proformance,” Mrs. Harrison called out. “Julie.”

You squeezed her hand slightly as she stood up and walked over to the piano.

She sat in silence for a moment, before saying “I’m sorry,” and running out of the room, with you and Flynn not far behind.

-----

“I’ll be back to pick you up at 5:30. Have fun at practice, Danny!” you called out after your little brother as he ran to join the baseball team. This was a daily routine for you; drop Danny off at practice, go to Julie’s to study and eat, pick up Danny, go home and endure torture.

You let your mind wander as you walked to Julie’s house, which luckily wasn’t very far from the sports fields. Walking through the front door, you let your bag fall to the ground as you went to go get something to eat.

-----

A few hours later, you were walking back to the sports fields.

“Hey, Danny,” you said once you saw him, ruffling the boy’s hair. “How was practice?”

You paid attention as best you could as he rambled on about what had happened that day, but if you were honest, you didn’t understand a thing about sports. You were just glad your brother had found something that made him happy.

You closed the front door as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake your father. You tip-toed into the kitchen to start making dinner, as you did every night.

“Olivia, is that you?” you mother asked. You winced.

“Yes, mother,” you sighed slightly, afraid to tell her that you had changed your name to Y/N.

“Hurry up and get dinner started. My feet are tired from cleaning all day.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the excuse that was very obviously a lie, your house was a mess and you knew you would be expected to clean it later, but you didn’t want to get in trouble. So you fell into a robotic sort-of motion that you had developed as a way of hiding your emotions and thoughts from your parents.

Thirty minutes and one burnt fingertip later, dinner was ready and waiting on the table.

“Wake up, Harold, dinner is ready.” Your mother shook your father awake. You knew if you tried that, you would be slapped across the face. By both of them.

However, your father just sat up sleepily and lumbered over to the table. You stood over to the side as your family ate, not being allowed to join them.

“Goddamned roast beef is overcooked again,” he grumbled. You blinked back tears. Such a small thing shouldn’t upset you, you knew, but it did.

You endured the criticism on the meal you had worked hard to make from your mother and father for the next half-hour. Your father declared himself full and snapped his fingers at you. You whisked his plate away before taking your mother’s, too. She never ate after he finished. You took Danny’s too, but only because you knew that your parents disapproved of him still eating.

“Hey,” your father said, his voice already low and dangerous. “Give your brother back his plate. He wasn’t finished yet.”

You set the plate back down, nodding and shaking slightly. “My apologies, father.”

“Don’t appologize to your father, appologize to your brother!” your mother exclaimed, grabbing Danny’s hand from across the table and giving it a squeeze.

“It’s okay, really, I was done,” he hurried to say.

Your mother frowned at him. “Are you sure, darling?”

He nodded.

“Well, okay then…” she said, still frowning slightly. “You may be excused.”

He ran off to his room. You took his plate.

Heading back to the kitchen with a small sigh, you started making a meal for yourself out of what was left, leaving enough so that your family would have leftovers.

You ate silently, thinking about how nice it would be to have a caring family. Of course, Danny cared, but he was too young to stand up to your parents, and you never wanted him to have to. You would protect that boy at all costs.

Holding in a sigh, you cleaned up from dinner, and then pulled out the duster to start to clean the house. You were stopped, however, by your mother.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- I’m cleaning the house…”

“Didn’t you hear me say earlier that I cleaned it? Are you insulting my cleaning job?”

“N-no, I-”

“You what?” Without waiting for an answer, she slapped you across the face. You struggled to remain emotionless; your face stung.

You thought it was over, but then your father joined in.

“What’s this Jennifer? Is Olivia insulting your hard work?”

“It’s Y/N…” you muttered quietly. Your father overheard and put his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“As long as you’re living under my roof it will always be Olivia. And even if you could change your name, that doesn’t change your gender, freak,” he spat.

“I know,” you whispered.

He slapped you.

“Don’t talk back to me.”

Blinking back tears, you stood still as they walked away. Eventually, you remembered the duster in your hand. Placing it back on the shelf, you walked back up to your room, hoping you would be able to escape them for the rest of the night.

-----

The next morning as you and Danny were walking to Julie’s house to go to school, you heard something you hadn’t heard in a long time: music. Julie was singing.

“Wake up, wake up, if it’s all you do, look out, look inside of you, it’s not what you lost, it’s what you’ll gain raising your voice to the rain.” You smiled. It had been so long since you last heard her voice, and her music was a gift to the world.

You walked into the studio alone, Danny having gone to talk to Carlos. Julie looked up with small tears in her eyes, seeing you standing there, smiling. She smiled back.

“It’s so nice to hear you play again.”

Julie smiled wider. “Thanks.”

Just then, Flynn burst in.

“Carlos told me you’d be out here. We need to talk.” She crossed the room to where the two of you stood by the piano.

“Are you okay?” you asked, noticing the tears running down her face.

“No, I’m not okay! One of my best friends just got kicked out of music! I’ve been up all night thinking about what I was gonna say. Might’ve drank seven sodas, but I need to get this out.”

“Wait, I have something to tell you-”

“No. It’s my turn to talk.” Flynn took a deep breath. “You can’t give up music. You’re music’s like a gift, that would be a tragedy. So you’re basically, like, cancelling Christmas, and I love Christmas!”

“Flynn-” you started to say, but she cut you off.

“Uh-uh! I don’t know why you’re siding with her, Y/N. I know you like hearing her play.”

You knew Flynn didn’t mean to hurt you, but her words stung a little. You nodded once and retreated back into yourself slightly. Flynn was too emotional (and sleep deprived) to notice.

“When we were six, we promised to be in a band together. Double Trouble!”

“I never agreed to that name,” Julie said, laughing slightly.

“That’s not the point. Jules, if you leave the music program, we’ll be apart forever. That’s just what happens. Sure, we’ll see each other in the hall sometimes, but we’ll have different lives, make new friends…” Flynn said the last part quieter. You could tell she hated the thought of losing one of her best friends.

“That’s not true,” Julie reassured her, but Flynn wasn’t finished.

“You’re right. I won’t be making any new friends. I’ll only have Y/N, and they’re amazing but I’d miss you Jules! And the only time we’ll contact each other is when we’re liking each other’s posts on Instagram. Every time I’ll be hitting that little heart, my heart will be breaking because one of my best friend’s left me, and… do you have any soda? My head hurts.”

“Can I talk now?” Julie asked tentatively.

“Fine.”

“I just played the piano and sang again. Y/N can confirm it.” You nodded when Flynn looked at you excitedly.

“What? Why didn’t you just say so?” She asked, practically bouncing with joy.

“She was trying to, but then your seven soda’s kicked in,” you answered with a small laugh.

Flynn was grinning from ear to ear now. “I’m so happy for you! And me! And Y/N!”

You all hugged, but Flynn pulled away quickly, gasping. “We need to tell Mrs. Harrison that you can play so you can stay in school and my life won’t be that sad picture I just painted for you!”

You giggled as Flynn put her arms around both of you. “Y/N, our girl’s back. Double Trouble lives again!”

“Still not our band name,” giggled Julie.

-----

“Did you end up getting back into the music program?” you asked Julie at the end of your study session for the day. She looked down at her shoes, and you knew what the answer would be before she said it:

“No. No I didn’t.”

You tried not to look too disappointed for her sake. “Oh. I’m really sorry, Jules.”

“It’s…” she sighed. “It’s okay. I can reapply next semester.”

You hugged her.

“Oh hey, I almost forgot to tell you,” she said right as you were about to walk out of the door. “We decided not to move.”

Despite the news that one of your best friends was no longer in the music program, a smile lit up your face. “That’s great!” you said, pulling her in for another quick hug. Then you walked out the door, not wanting to be late to pick up Danny.

-----

“Check it out, yeah we make ‘em say Wow!” Carrie bowed as her band, Dirty Candi, finished their dance number. You were at the spirit rally, saving a seat for Julie and Flynn, who were nowhere to be found.

Suddenly Flynn plopped down beside you.

“Oh hey, where were you?” you asked the girl.

She tried to blow a piece of hair out of her face, frowning slightly when it wouldn’t move. “I was in the band room. I wasn’t feeling very… spirt-y.” You both chuckled slightly.

“Where’s Jules?” You looked around for the other girl, but couldn’t see her.

As if in response to your question, music filled the gym as someone started to play the piano on the stage. You looked up to see Julie, alone on stage, with a spotlight on her.

“Sometime’s I think I’m falling down, I wanna cry, I’m calling out, for one more try, to feel alive,” she sang, her voice echoing slightly as it filled the room. You smiled, happy she was singing again.

Then suddenly, there were three boys on stage with her.

“Whoa!” Flynn exclaimed.

“Where did those boys come from?” you asked in amazement. Julie seemed a little shocked that they were there too. One of them, the lead guitarist you guessed, started singing the second verse.

“In times that I doubted myself, I felt like I needed some help,” he sang.

“Whoa, he has a really good voice,” you said, your mouth hanging open slightly.

You found yourself staring at him as the song went on. You could tell that he really enjoyed playing, and found yourself getting caught up in the music.

“And rise, through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together, bright forever!” Julie harmonized with the boys, finishing the song. You started clapping with the rest of the crowd that had gathered to watch, proud of your friend.

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the boys were gone.

#fanfic #jatpfic #rhys writes sometimes #tw abuse #tw food #tw death #julie and the phantoms x reader #x reader #jatp x reader #luke x reader #luke patterson x reader #music worth making series

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shapa-likes-art · 3 years

Text

Chapter one: Now or never

Warnings: death of major characters, food/battery poisoning (it's unclear). Tell me to put more warnings if needed.

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety and Intrulogical

Summary: upcoming band, sunset curve, are about to make their debut at the orpheum when a serious tragedy occurs on the night of their performance. (Set in 1995)

A/n: here is my crappy writing bringing to you my Julie and the Phantoms au- er, Roman and Phantoms in this case? Haha, sorry! Besides that, there is are going to be links right before a performance/singing scene and it's highly recommended that you give it a listen before continuing on!

First | Next

Taglist: @that-peach-anon @thunderholtz @anxious-chaos-art @arcticfrostdoesthings @cirishere

It was a loud and busy night in sunset boulevard, there were crowds of people lined up right outside the orpheum, a line that was so long that it almost surpassed the width of the building. There was excited chatter amongst people- fans of the band that had yet to play in the building.

Up on the Marquee read: Sunset Curve - Sold out.

The sound of a distant guitar riff from inside the building seemed to rile up the excitement in the crowd.

(Listen to the song before proceeding)

There were three clacks of drumsticks hitting, "One! Two! Three!"

"Take off, Last stop! Countdown till' we blast open the top!"

A man in his late teens with purple-dyed tips and ripped jeans sung with a playful smirk. he seemed to be the lead singer of the band Sunset curve.

"Face first! full charge! Electric hammer to the heart-"

He looked in his element, effortlessly playing the guitar while singing. Three other voices joined the lead in harmony.

"Clocks move faster 'cause it's all we're after now, oh"

The lead looked over to a guy with a baby blue leather jacket a bass and he cocked his head to the side as if to say 'come over'. The bassist jumped over and sung in the same mic.

"Won't stop climbing, 'cause this is our time! yeah!"

The singer pushed him away playfully and the bassist went back to his own mic. They quickly moved to the prechorus

"When all the days felt black and white, Those were the best shades of my life!"

The singer belted with a grin, swiftly moving to the chorus, the other band members joining in every shout

"Don't look down!"

" 'Cause we're still rising-"

" Up right now!"

"And even if we-"

"Hit the ground!"

"We'll still fly- Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!"

The singer turned away from the mic and to the drummer as if passing it off to him with a shine in his eyes and an almost never-gone grin.

"We ain't searching for tomorrow," The drummer sung, "Tomorrow" The bassist repeated

" 'Cause we got all we need today," "Today!"

The lead took over momentarily

"Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins,"

The bassist smirked as he took in a deep breath, running his and through his hair,

"We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain"

Each band members stopped playing their instruments, clapping and clacking their sticks together to a beat as they repeated the start of the chorus

"Don't look down! 'cause we're still rising up right- now!"

They picked their instruments back up, a fire and smoke effect errupted around them as they played their instruments once again and delved into the final chorus

"And even if we hit the ground we'll still fly- Keep dreaming like we'll live forever but live it like it's now or never!"

There were more effects blowing around and lights shining on them as they harmonized at final part of the song

"It's now or never!" "Now or never"

Both guitarists and the bassist turned to the drummer as they strummed their last chords. They panted, catching their breaths as sweat fell down their faces and yet they had wide grins. They soon turned around and did their bows.

There was applause and cheers from the orpheum employees as the band members stood straight, "Whoo! Excellent!" A Girl cheered from the table she was wiping down, clapping alongside the employees,

The bassist chuckled, it sounded bubbly and sweet, and grabbed the mic, "Thank you, we're sunset curve," he said with a small wave before turning to the other bands members, who were immediately going on about that performance as the put away their instruments.

The lead and the second guitarist bumped their fists together with a smile, "Too bad we wasted that om a sound check," the second guitarist said, "that was the tightest we've ever played!"

The lead singer just smiled as he turned to the empty spot where the crowd would have been, "Just wait until tonight, when this place is packed with record execs," he said, his eyes lighting up at the mere thought. It was almost hard to believe and yet there they stood on the stage.

"Logan, you were smoking!" The bassist said to the drummer- Logan- who just huffed, pulling out his glasses from his shirt and sliding them back onto his face

"I oppose that, Pat, I was just warming up... In fact, you guys were the ones on fire," he said with a small smile and a faint blush on his light brown skin.

The bassist- Pat- pouted, "Aw, c'mon, lo! Can you, just this once, own up to your awesomeness? Hm?" He huffed, grabbing a few of their t-shirts and CD cases. The lead, who had been listening in, looked at Logan with a knowing smirk and an eyebrow raised.

Logan relented, biting his lip as he looked to his band members, "Fine, I was... 'Killing' it," he said, offering a small smile.

The lead smiled and went to lightly tap Logan's Shoulder, "ok, well, I'm thinking that we fuel up before the show," he took in a deep breath, "I'm thinking street dogs?" He suggested

Logan and Pat made sounds of affirmation. It had been a pretty high-energy performance, so having some hotdogs wasn't such a bad idea. At the time.

A female employee watched with a fond smile as she wiped down a table, and it seemed that she had captured the second guitarist's attention and interest

He went to walk off the stage and approach her.

"Hey Toby-" the lead saw him jump off the ledge of the stage and followed after, "Where you going?" He asked, the other two members right behind.

Toby turned to them, "I'm good," he said waving his hand dismissively and turned to the girl, smiling as he leaned against the table she was wiping.

"Vegetarian. Could never hurt an animal," he said, as if explaining. The others stood next to him, the three of them holding unimpressed and fond looks, seeming that they knew it was a lie.

"You guys are really good," she said with an impressed look on her face, a small spanish accent to her as she spoke. She had tan skin, shoulder-length voluminous curly hair, and a sleeveless sequin shirt.

"Thank you," pat chirped, resting his arm on Logan's Shoulder, to which said man didn't mind.

"I see a lot of bands," she continued, "Been in a few, myself," she smiled, "I was really feeling it,"

The lead smiled, "Well, uh, that's what we do this for," he said with a small awkward laugh before realizing something: "I- uh, I'm Virgil, by the way," he introduced then gesturing to Pat.

"Hi, I'm Patton,"

"Logan,"

"Toby,"

"Nice meeting you guys," she said with a curt nod, "I'm Rose,"

Patton seemed to perk up, "Oh! Uh-" he held out a CD, "Here's our demo," he said, sliding it over to her, then grabbing a T-shirt, "and a T-shirt, size: beautiful," he said with a grin. Logan groaned at that. Patton had the tendency to flirt as a joke and not meaning any of it.

Rose just smiled, talking the T-shirt, unfolding it and holding it up to he body, looking down at the design, before looking to the band, "Thanks," she said with a smile. She went to fold it in half and put it on her shoulder, looking to the table, "I'll make sure not to wipe tables down with this one," she said a little awkwardly.

"Oh, good decision," Logan said with a nod, "whenever they get wet, they tend to- uh, fall apart in your hands," he provided with a small smile.

Toby huffed, "Don't you guys have to get hot dogs?" He asked.

Virgil just smirked, "Yeah," he said then leaning close to Rose, "He had a hamburger for lunch," he said, cocking his head to Toby's direction before going to push himself away from the table and walk towards the exit, leaving an exasperated and disappointed Toby alone with Rose.

Virgil, Logan, and Patton grabbed their jackets before they went, shrugging them on as they went out the backstage exit.

Virgil hummed looking around, rolling on the balls of his feet "That's what I'm talking about," He said with an almost giddy shine to his eyes

"The smell of sunset boulevard?" Logan asked with a raised eyebrow, readjusting his ripped denim jacket.

Virgil rolled his eyes and lightly punched Logan's arm, "No, smartass," he said with a small laugh, "It's what that girl said back there-" he said, walking in front of the others and kicking a puddle in his adrenaline-induced happiness.

"-about out music Alright?" He turned to look to the others, making a vague gesture with his hands, "It- It's like an energy," he said, slowing down a bit and walking beside them with a hum.

"It connects us with people- they can feel us when we play," Virgil hummed, walking behind them then hooking his arms around their shoulders, "I want that with everybody tonight,"

"Well then, we'll need a lot more shirts," Patton said, looking to the two ones in his hands. Virgil could help but let out a small laugh at that, "C'mon, let's go," he said.

They walked by a line of people- the people lined up for their show. Patton noticed two girls who were excitedly talking to each other and he went to diverge from the other two.

"Ladies," he smiled, giving them the last two shirts he had on hands before going back to the other two.

The two girls seemed confused, unfurling the shirt. Their eyes lit up as they realized who gave them the shirts

"Patton, wait!" One of them shouted, "oh my God, Patton!" The other one shouted. They both jumped in excitement, "oh my God, hi! It's me!"

As they walked away, they felt a little bit of pride bloom inside. They saw just how long the line was and it blew their minds. So many people lined up to see them and hear them play. This truly was a night none of them would ever forget.

They soon found a hotdog spot in an alleyway about a street down from the orpheum. They quickly got their hotdogs and went to putting on their toppings and condiments

Logan grimaced as he looked to where the condiments were stored- the trunk of a car along with a car battery.

"Virgil, there should be better places in Hollywood than this," he huffed, going to reach for the tongs to grab his topping of choice

Virgil didn't exactly look that crazed about it Either but he shrugged, "It's the closest spot to the orpheum and we cannot- for the life of us and our future- miss this gig,"

Logan just took on a deep breath, going to take a pickle to put on his hotdog, a slice slipped through the tongs and fell on the battery's cables. Great, just great, "I can't wait to eat someplace where the condiments aren't served in the back of an Oldsmobile," he grumbled.

Virgil just huffed and leaned against the trunk, waiting for Logan. This was going to be the one and only time they're eating at this spot. After tonight, they'll eat anywhere they want.

Logan finished with assembling his hotdog and turned to the vendor who was grilling hotdogs and patties, "Excuse me, uh... I got some pickle juice on your battery cables. Sorry," he said.

"No problem, it'll help with the rust," the vendor responded, giving Logan a pat on the back and a laugh

Logan looked dumbfounded, "That can't-" the vendor only chuckled and turned back to grilling. Logan looked to Virgil, who cocked his head over to a couch.

"Ok.." Logan sighed as he shook his head, defeated.

Patton let out a small sigh and he plopped on to the couch, followed by Virgil then Logan, they all leaned against the ratty and patched-up couch that was in the "dining area" of this pop-up shop.

Virgil hummed as he looked up to the sky, a small smile appearing on his face. Tonight was the biggest night ever and he could barely believe it, "This is awesome, you guys," he said, looking to his friends. "We are playing the freaking orpheum- I can't even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge!" He exclaimed

Patton chuckled lightly and smiled wide while Logan tried to suppress one. Virgil let out a small laugh of disbelief, "We are going to be legends," he smiled. He looked to the hotdog in his hands and lifted it up.

"Eat up, Boys," he said, the other two lifting their dogs as well, " 'Cause after Tonight... Everything changes,"

They all brought their dogs together as if a toast and bit in. As soon as Logan bit down, he tasted something metallic and ashy, "That's an odd flavor," he mumbled. Something felt very wrong.

"I'm sure It'll be fine," Patton mumbled. There was sudden sense of dread, "street dogs haven't killed us yet," he tried to joke.

They looked to the sandwich in their hands and reluctantly took another bite.

Only a few moments later, the siren of an ambulance wailed, driving towards sunset boulevard.

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prettyindielads · 3 years

Text

"Everyone only writes about Peter ..."

[Carl Interview from september 2004, translated from german]

Carl Barât is beautiful. And so self-confident that he deliberately intensifies his mumbling for an interview ... and at the end asks charmingly, if it was bad. This is what the libertines are like: the outside world belongs to them. Inwardly, they are sensitive and vulnerable; just stumble over the simplest questions.

Carl Barât stands in front of me relaxed and damn good looking. Is that supposed to be the same one, who stared at you so pale with his distraught look from the album cover? The one who looked clearly youthful on the last tour? Now it is hard to believe that this man who comes up the stairs to the interview room with his shoes clattering loudly is only 26 years old.

He sits in front of me completely relaxed and mumbles "It's really hot here". And that where the libertines have just come from a festival in sunny Italy. Without Peter Doherty. Last year it still seemed inconceivable that the Libertines would finally break up their front man duo and go on a full tour without the problem child. In the meantime you look at their second album in disbelief and wonder, why the band even managed to record a second album.

This may be mainly due to their new manager Alan McGee: The man, who tamed the Oasis brothers, "chose us. He saw our problem and wanted to change something. He saw that we needed help ... and he could help us a lot." But how do you help a band like the Libertines, which Carl himself calls "difficult to manage"? Certainly not by slipping into the role of a contract dealer as a manager.

Much more important was McGee's human instinct: "He persuaded Peter to go to rehab. As a manager, he protected him from certain things." It was McGee who kept this complicated band structure together even in difficult times. "He's great", Carl summarizes his assessment of Alan McGee. And while he is saying that, he stops mumbling so outrageously for a brief moment. It seems important to him that he is understood here.

The effects of McGee's involvement may be good for Peter. But Carl obviously takes this topic with him. What he misses most about Peter while touring Europe without him, he has to think about for a while. Hasn't he been asked this question a thousand times? Is it so important to him that he has to look for the right words first? "A sense of unity ... our success ... when we work together you can feel that we are achieving, what we want to achieve"

But the songwriting is not always so cozy: I would like to know whether there is cooperation or rivalry between the two when writing. Again Carl has to think twice to come up with a monosyllabic answer: "Both a little."

The friction between Doherty and Barât is constant. While the songs of the Libertines on "Up The Bracket" still had a clear framework that held them together, this now seems to be falling apart like the bond between the two front men. The dispute between Carl and Peter is reflected on every corner. But was this step towards being less catchy really a conscious one? "No, you don't do that on purpose. It's just different. It was a bit more sincere than the first time. Because we knew that we had people's attention", explains Barât the self-image when working on the second album.

But could the irritable, violent mood that prevailed between the heads of the Libertines during the recordings for the second work have released positive energies? "Violence?" Asks Carl in disbelief. I try again, if the trouble in the band also unleashes positive energy. "Having troubles? I don't think so! But, well ... I don't know if I really understand the question." I'll make it clearer: if you argue in the studio, for example, doesn't that help you? "But I wouldn't say that that's positive. Maybe it has something to do with passion. I don't know."

Often in the last few weeks it has been written that the album should tell the libertines' view of their own story of friendship, setbacks, and forgiveness. It is intended as a reply to the countless articles in the tabloid press. But Carl Barât doesn't want to know anything about that this afternoon in Berlin: "No, I don't want to oppose anything to the boulevard. I don't want to have anything to do with this world." These are just stories about life and music. "We just want people to listen to us." Which is difficult, because "everyone only writes about Peter. Unfortunately, that also overshadows the album." Carl finds it "hard to do interviews. You reveal so much personal information. And when you are unlucky people write really terrible things about you, especially the tabloids."

Contrary to Carl's attitude, Peter literally runs to the gossip papers and tells them his hot stories of addiction, disappointment and hope. You'd think Carl would be incredibly pissed off at this behavior: "No, not really ... as long as he's telling the truth! Which is not always the case ... And then I get very angry."

Nor is he really surprised by rumors that Peter is posting libertines demos on his Babyshambles site. When asked about this project by Peter Dohertys, he first sighs for a long time. "I don't really want to talk about that." No problem. This often seems to be the keyword for Carl. As soon as you tell him: It's OK, you don't have to talk about it, then he decides to do it: "Oh, I don't know," he says, and sounds like a worried mother, "I'm never really surprised about something like that. Just disappointed. "

Carl has no contact with Peter at the moment anyway. He must first "stop using crack and heroin" before he can return to the band. Is it likely that it will stop? "At the moment I don't believe in it," Carl mumbled quickly and incomprehensibly. Despite all this, he continues to think that the Libertines are a very romantic band, dreams of his fairy tales of Albion and Arcadia. And about the fact that everything will be fine again: "The band will definitely go on". The question is not whether, but how things will go on with the libertines.

Even the hype surrounding the band didn't leave any significant marks on Carl: He only noticed something in interviews anyway. "But no, that has nothing to do with my world." Much more important than the gossip magazines are the fans, with whom the Libertines have developed a very special relationship, especially in England. In their homeland they often play "intimate gigs" that are announced on their homepage shortly beforehand. With his "Babyshambles", Peter Doherty has already gone so far as to organize concerts with fans or even at home.

But what is the intention behind these concerts? They have enough fans anyway: After all, their second album in England hit number one in the charts from scratch. "I like to play the guitar, make music and be in bands. And I like those big buses, stopping somewhere, driving off again, and all the other stuff, I don't like. But that's probably how it is when you play, on the road. If you want to make music, you need an audience that wants to hear you. "

Manager McGee not only attested that the Libertines had an intimate relationship with their fans, he even called them the "most culturally significant band, perhaps since punk emerged". "He's our manager, he says a lot of things like that." You don't want to believe it, can't the convinced Carl understand such a statement? "But I think so. It's about passion. You have to show people that they should go their own way. You have to show them a way."

To encourage young bands to go their own way, Carl also has his own club project in London. "I do this to have a nice evening. And there are people who want to go on stage. There are some brilliant bands that I want to give an audience to."

The moment I signal to Carl that I don't really have any more questions, he suddenly comes to life. His mumbling settles on a bearable level, he offers me a butt and starts chatting away. That he is looking forward to the concert tonight because he remembers the German audience as so "passionate".

And that the Coke Light Lemon he is drinking is really disgusting: "it has never seen a lemon in it‘s life." Suddenly he's relaxed, joking about how gross Coke Vanilla is, too. Then he would like to know something about monuments near the Berlin Victory Column. Whether it had something to do with the Second World War. Apropos: is the libertines song "Arbeit Macht Frei" a provocation? "It has nothing to do with Germany or the Germans. The song is about something that has historically been synonymous with hypocrisy and hypocrisy." All right.

Carl explains to me, that the builder of the Oberbaum Bridge killed himself because the bridge was not high enough ... and finds this an understandable reason for suicide. But even now he remains a little skeptical. What remains is the fear of the lurid tabloids that want to squeeze out the history of the band even further.

"Oh what became of the Likely Lads? What became of the dreams we had? Oh what became of forever?" Can something like this band, shaped by a back and forth between friendship and rifts, really last forever? "I don't know, I've never tried!"

source: https://www.laut.de/The-Libertines/Interviews/Jeder-schreibt-nur-ueber-Peter-...-13-09-2004-240

#carl barât #the libertines #interview #mumble mumble mumble

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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Prologue - (Y/n), Julie, and the Phantoms

3rd Person POV

In Hollywood of 1995 inside the Orpheum, four young musicians begin to play.

youtube

"Take off last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first full charge Electric hammer to the heart

Clocks move faster 'cause it's all we're after now oh

Won't stop climbing 'cause this is our time, yeah When all the days felt black and white Those were the best shades of my life

Don't look down 'cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never

We ain't searching for tomorrow tomorrow 'cause we got all we need today today Living on a feeling That's been running through our veins We're the revolution That's been singing in the rain

Don't look down 'cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never It's now or never now or never"

Luke's hands spread out as the lead guitarist turns to look at his friends then back towards the hall, a grin on his face.

"Whoo!"

"Nice one!"

"That was great guys!"

Some of the observes and recorders exclaim.

A young Latin woman with curly brown hair claps, "Whoo!" Another woman approaches her, her (E/c) eyes sparkling.

"Thank you, we're Sunset Curve," comes Reggie as he combs back his dark brown hair, his blue-green eyes sparkling from the stage lights, winking at the women.

"Too bad we wasted this on the sound track. That's the tightest we've ever played," Bobby exclaims, fist bumping with Luke.

"Wait until tonight, man, when this place gets packed with record execs," Luke answers with a grin.

"Alex," Reggie says as his pink shirted friend steps forward to join his bandmates at the front of the stage. "You were smoking."

"Oh, no," Alex say, placing his hands into his jean pockets. "I was just warming up," his drum sticks click together as he motions to his friends. "You guys were the ones on fire."

"Could you just own your awesomeness for once?" Reggie asks, placing a fist over his heart.

Luke nods and Bobby smiles at his friend.

"Huh?" Alex asks, then he finally accepts the praise. "All right, I was killing it."

Alex and the other three laugh as Reggie and Alex share a quick bro hug.

"Okay, well," Luke says, punching Alex lightly on the arm. "I'm thinking we fuel up before the show. I'm thinking street dogs."

"Ooh!" Reggie says.

Alex turns to face Luke, "Yes!"

The two young women wiping off tables exchange amused looks and the Latina sighs.

"Hey, Bobby, where you going?" Luke asks as the guitarist walks towards the two women, smoothing back his hair.

"I'm good," Bobby answers, but his friends follow him anyway. "Vegitarian," Bobby tell the two women. "I could never hurt an animal."

"You guys are really good," the Latina says.

"Thank you," Luke answers, his arm thrown over Bobby's shoulder.

"We see a lot of bands," pipes up the second woman.

"Been in a couple ourselves," the Latina continues. "We were really feeling it."

That's what we do this for," Luke says with a smile. "I'm Luke, by the way."

"Hi, I'm Reggie," Reggie pipes up with a grin.

"Alex," Alex says shyly.

"Bobby," Bobby pushes slightly in front of Luke to look at the Latina.

"Nice meeting you guys," the woman with (E/c) eyes says.

Luke gives Bobby a wet willy as the Latina says, "I'm Rose."

"(M/n)," the (M/h/c) haired woman nods to the four boys.

"Oh, uh," Reggie pulls out two CD cases and hands them to each of the women. "Here's our demo. And a t-shirt," Reggie pulls out two t-shirt and hands them over as well. "Sizes beautiful."

Alex groans and shakes his head.

"Thanks," Rose hold up the shirt, looking at it for a moment.

"I'll make sure she doesn't wipe the tables down with this one," (M/n) says, an amused glint in her (E/c) eyes.

"Oh, good call," Alex says an his bandmates turn to look at him as he stumbles through the rest of the sentence, "Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands."

"Don't you guys have to go get hot dogs?" Bobby asks.

"Yeah," Luke pushes ahead of Bobby, "he had a hamburger for lunch."

(M/n) lets out a soft laugh at the lead guitarist's words.

Reggie slaps Bobby on the shoulder and the three walk away, Alex's hands back in his jean pockets.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Luke exclaims as the three open the doors; Reggie chuckles.

"The smell of Sunset Boulevard?" Alex asks, now clad in a pink sweatshirt and a jean jacket.

"No," Luke says matter-of-factly. Alex chuckles. "It's what those girls said in there tonight," he continues as they walk, kicking a puddle of water and splashing the pavement in front of them. "About our music, all right? It's like an energy. It connects us with people. They can feel us when we play. Yo, I want that connection with everybody." Luke throws his arms around his two friends and they come to a halt.

"Then we're going to need more t-shirts," Reggie says and Alex shoots him an amused look.

"Let's go, boys," Luke says and the three start off again.

"Ladies," Reggie says, handing out a few t-shirts as they pass a group of fans.

The two examine the shirts and once they walk away one girl squeals, "Reggie, wait!"

"Oh my God. Reggie!"

"Oh my God! Hi, it's me!"

As the three boys are getting their street dogs out of the back of a man's car, Alex accidentally drips some pickle juice on one of the car batteries.

"Man . . ." Alex sighs. "I can't wait until we eat someplace where the condiments aren't served out of the back of an Oldsmobile." Alex turns and approaches the owner of the 'hot dog stand.' "Hey . . . Sorry, I got some pickle juice on your battery cables."

"No problem," the man says. "It'll help with the rust." He punches Alex gently on the arm and chuckles.

"That can't . . ." Alex trails off as the man chuckles again. "Okay. What?"

The three head into an old building and plop down on a couch.

"This is awesome, you guys," Luke says. "We're playing the Orpheum!"

Alex and Reggie turn to look at their friend as he continues. "I can't eve count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge." Reggie laughs softly. "We're gonna be legends!"

Alex smile and looks down at his hot dog.

"Eat up, boys," Luke says, raising his hotdog for a cheer. "Cause after tonight, everything changes," he promises.

The three toast to that and begin to ear their hotdogs.

Alex looks at his hotdog questioningly after his first bite. "That's a new flavor," he says, taking another bite.

"Chill man," Reggie says. "Street dog haven't killed us yet."

Luke looks a little put-off for a moment before he shrugs and takes another bite.

Outside, a little while later, the people in the streets part as a siren wails.

And that was the last heard of Sunset Curve . . .

For now . . .

Word Count: 1200 words

So yeah, here's the prologue. I promise that you guys'll meet Julie and (Y/n) in the next chapter.

I'll see you guys soon!

Love,

Kaitlynn 😍❤️

#femreader #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms #jatp #reader insert #alex mercer #reggie peters #julie molina #orphan reader #Natasha Romanoff (but not really)

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amwritesitall · 4 years

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Cordelia Goode Playlist

Masterlist

I’m sharing these so I have post schedullleeedd for my days oooofffff. They most likely won’t be popular but it’s all good :) I’m going to put little baby reasoning since this is a thicc list

Playlist link

Also if you guys want more character playlists go check out @make--your--life--spectacular ‘s playlists. Here’s links to Ally and Venable :)

“Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac

Now here I go again I see the crystal visions I keep my visions to myself It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams And have you any dreams you'd like to sell? Dreams of loneliness

So the first few songs all kind of have the same reasoning and that is witchy vibes. You can’t have a Cordelia playlist without some Fleetwood Mac

“Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac

She is like a cat in the dark and then She is the darkness She rules her life like a fine skylark and when The sky is starless

The ultimate witchy vibes song

“Seven Wonders” by Fleetwood Mac

So it's hard to find Someone with that kind of intensity You touched my hand I played it cool And you reached out your hand for me But if our paths never cross Well you know I'm sorry but If I live to see the seven wonders I'll make a path to the rainbow's end I'll never live to match the beauty again The rainbow's end

We love our talented Supreme

“Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You” by Stevie Nicks

Has anyone ever given anything to you In your darkest hours Did you ever give it back Well, I have I have given that to you If it's all I ever do This is your song

This song is so preetttttyyyyyy. I feel like this would be one of Cordelia’s favorites

“The Witch Queen of New Orleans” by Redbone

Dime or a nickel any one could buy Voodoo of any kind She had potions and lotions, herbs and tanna leaves Guaranteed to blow your mind Early one mornin' into mucky swamp dew Vanished Marie with hate in her eyes Though she'll never return all the Cajuns knew A witch queen never dies

This song talks about Marie Laveau and idk witch vibes. Cordelia is also the witch queen while Marie is the voodoo queen

“girls” by girl in red

I shouldn't be feeling this But it's too hard to resist Soft skin and soft lips I should be into this guy But it's just a waste of time He's really not my type I know what I like No, this is not a phase Or a coming of age This will never change

A lot of songs just make me think of bb Cordelia

“Loving Is Easy” by Rex Orange County

Loving is easy You had me fucked up It used to be so hard to see Yeah, loving is easy When everything's perfect Please don't change a single little thing for me

Soft gal loving. Prime happy Cordelia vibes

“i wanna be your girlfriend” by girl in red

I don't wanna be your friend I wanna kiss your lips I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath I don't wanna be your friend I wanna kiss your lips I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath

Teen AU Cordeliiiaaaa

“Glory Box” by Portishead

I just want to be a woman From this time, unchained We're all looking at a different picture Through this new frame of mind A thousand flowers could bloom Move over, and give us some room, yeah

HOW CAN I NOT PUT THIS SONG ON HERE?? This is one of my favorite songs they have ever used on the show

“you’re my world” by atlas

You were my earth You were the planet You were the grass The wind and tides And now that you're gone I feel so out of place And now that you're gone I'm just driftin' through space

Anngsssttt

“If We We’re Vampires” by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

It's knowing that this can't go on forever Likely one of us will have to spend some days alone Maybe we'll get forty years together But one day I'll be gone Or one day you'll be gone

I’m going to use my reasoning from my other post about this song.

Cordelia knows that one day she will die. There will be another Supreme after her and she can’t live forever. This is her coming to terms with the fact that maybe it’s for the best that she won’t stay around forever. Not being immortal allows her to live in the moment and savor all the time she has.

“Red (Demo Version)” by Miki Ratsula

Stars light up the sky, the clock strikes twelve Adventure in sight, the hours melt Ben Howard plays, she sings along I look to my left and fall in love

When she leans in for a red light kiss And places her love on my lips Hearts and lungs increase in pace Passion overwhelms our space But, the corner of my eye lights up in green This fragile moment woken by reality Our lips depart, our breathing slows as I wait again To kiss her lips, when the light turns red

Soft teen Cordelia vibes

“Planets of the Universe - Demo” by Fleetwood Mac

I will never love again the way I loved you You will never rule again the way you've ruled We will never change again the way we are changing Oh, you'll forget the chill of love but not the strain

One of my favorite songs. The demo is my favorite version of it because it feels so raw? Like the emotions in it and also young Stevie sounds like a cutie at the beginning and end when she’s talking to Christine.

In general this is also has Cordelia vibes too lol

“18″ by 5 Seconds of Summer

I'm not old enough for her I'm just waiting till I'll eighteen I think she wants to get with me But, she's got a job in the city And she says that she's always too busy She's got a naughty tattoo In a place that i wanna get to

Being a student at the Academy and having a thing for Ms Headmistress Cordelia

“House of the Rising Sun” by Lauren O’Connell

It's one foot on the platform The other's on the train I'm going back to New Orleans To wear that ball and chain

Witchy woman

“Bad Liar” by Selena Gomez

I was walking down the street the other day Tryna distract myself But then I see your face Oh wait, that's someone else Ohh, tryna play it coy Tryna make it disappear But just like the battle of Troy There's nothing subtle here In my room there's a king size space Bigger than it used to be If you want you can rent that place Call me an amenity Even if it's in my dreams

Nervous Cordelia trying to hide her feelings. Possibly Teen Cordelia?

“Nervous - Acoustic” by Gavin James

'Cause every time I saw you I got nervous Shivering and shaking at the knees And just like every song I haven't heard yet no I didn't know the words in front of me In front of me, and oh But I don't wanna know Who'll take you home?

Season three shy gal

“Mariposa” by Peach Tree Rascals

I can't wait for you To come my way I've been far away But I'll keep runnin' Just to find a way to you til' then

Cordelia will do her damn best to get to her love. Don’t mess with her b.

“Sweet Love of Mine (Acoustic)” by Joy Williams

When you found me I was all alone The whole world around me And nowhere to call home I heard your voice sing like heaven's choir Gathered up my fears and threw them in the fire

Oh my darling, sweet love of mine I'll hold you all through the night

I don’t think this is what the song is technically about but it makes me think of Cordelia finding someone that finally loves her and helps her love all of the things that Fiona made her self conscious about.

“Hurts Like Hell - OurVinyl Sessions” by Fleurie

I don't want them to know the secrets I don't want them to know the way I loved you I don't think they'd understand it, no I don't think they would accept me, no

I loved, and I loved and I lost you

Dreams fight with machines Inside my head like adversaries Come wrestle me free Clean from the war Your heart fits like a key Into the lock on the wall

This song makes me think of Misty x Cordelia or angsty teen au Cordelia. I can also cry on demand if this song is playing

“Waiting Room” by Rex Orange County

Our family reunion I'd rather be anywhere but here It's like a pain you shouldn't ignore But my uncle's here to open the door, and I don't like him This family reunion I felt so uncomfortable, I left They all decided to stay So it's just me and my mistakes And I'd like to know that you smile when you're alone And when you need time to yourself Remember me, I won't be anyone else I'm just the boy you love

And my lover, my best friend When I heard that you don't know why you're here I fell face down And became one with the ground And my lover's best friend

Cordelia’s hella dysfunctional family and just yeah

“Fancy Shoes” by The Walters

Let's go walking in the city tonight You wear the dress that makes you look so nice Like my fancy shoes I wore them just for you Tell me why all the good ones go Well I don't know but I want it to somehow change I'll be a better man if you just stay

This one I don’t have much of an explanation for besides vibes

“Common Sense” by Joshua Bassett

Common sense tells me kiss the girl goodbye Common sense tells me leave it all behind Common sense says the girl's not worth my time But common sense ain't common when you come to mind

Delia madly in love

“I Talk to the Sky” by Maddy Estelle

I write down things I wish I could say to you I talk to the sky I collect words I wish I could give to you I talk to the sky, I talk to the sky The sky doesn't say a word

Cordelia after she’s lost her loovee the annggsstt but sis is getting a happy ending

“Two Straws” by Also Joe

You've been on my mind In rain and sunshine You've got the sweetest smile that I've ever laid eyes on You make me dance And I make you laugh But nothin puts me in a better mood than being loved by ya This is the love that I've been dreaming of

Delia after falling really really hard

You might like: Audrey Tindall Playlist or Poems that Remind Me of Cordelia Goode

#cordelia #playlist #music #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #teen au #ahs #coven #ahs coven #sarah paulson #american horror story #american horror story coven

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

Text

My Brother’s Keeper

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Warning: Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other. Boys will be boys...

A/N: So, I wrote this story about 10 years ago, under a different fandom. With age and a more vivid imagination, there is so much more I want to do with it. So, what did I decide to do? A reboot!

Chapter I

The amber light of the cigarette as I inhale, sends a flash of brightness across this dark room. As soon as I take in a healthy drag and feel the cool flavor of menthol opening my lungs, everything seems to have a spark of life.

This room looks like all the others - small, dirty, and the only window in here is covered by a thick sheet of dust. I find myself wondering what this place looked like in its heyday before the demo crew came in and knocked down half the building. Did it have all of the latest amenities before the slum lord forgot that he had tenants? What kind of people lived here? The neighborhood’s changed so much, lately.

Not that it matters much now, I guess.

This place is abandoned, has been forever judging from the size of the termite holes in the walls and floorboards where the wood has completely rotted through. It's a death trap if you don't watch your step. We spent enough time scoping out the layout in the daytime, we know exactly where we can and can't step. I know I could close my eyes right now and walk from here to the front door and avoid the hole in the floor covered by that threadbare rug.

I guess that's why we always choose places like this. They aren't so easy to escape from. I mean, if they actually manage to get away from us, they'll have one hell of a time actually making it to the outside without breaking their necks in the process. It's an unfair advantage, but it's a small price we pay to protect ourselves.

The muffled sound of whimpering makes me look over to the darkened corner by where the kitchen used to be. I can't really see what she's doing, but judging from the sound of the table leg scraping across the floor, I guess she's trying to get her hands free.

I hate that he ties them up so tight. The sound of them struggling always makes me feel sorry for them. What's even worse, is he insists on gagging them and leaving me here alone to watch them.

The least he could do is leave the gag off so they could talk to me. I know it isn’t a smart idea, especially since they could start screaming. But sometimes, when I know that he'll be gone for a while, I untie the gag so we can talk. I get bored in the dark alone and the sounds of their whimpering makes me feel weird. At least when I take the gag off, it seems to help them relax. I can always calm them down when we can have a two-way conversation. But, I can never get him to understand that.

They don't scream, usually. I don't really know why. I like to think it's because they know I don't really want to hurt them. I don't know. I can't really explain it. It's like, I don't want to cause anybody pain and knowing that someone got hurt because of something I did disturbs me. But on the same token, I love the power of fear. I love the look on their faces when they realize it's me. Really, who would ever suspect me of anything?

I don't know how I got like this. I wasn't one of those types you read about in the DSM-5 that labels sociopaths as displaying symptoms since early childhood. I didn't have a rough childhood. We had all kinds of love as kids. We had a big family, 5 boys, and our mama loved us. She made sure we looked out for each other. We protected each other. We defended each other. We loved each other.

I wasn't abused as a child. Nobody touched me and I didn't have any early onset traumas to blame anything on. I've never had brain damage or ever been bullied before that I can remember. There's no explanation for it.

I once had this shrink tell me that was the scariest thing about it. There was nothing in my psychopathy to suggest I would turn out the way that I have. There’s just always been something in me that wasn’t quite right. According to her, that's what makes me a danger to society.

I'm a whole lot different than him, that's for sure. He's the sick one out of all of us. Looking at him, you’d never know. I don't even ask anymore where he gets some of the ideas he comes up with. I think he's watched one too many scary movies and now he wants to play everything out in real life. He worries me some times because it's getting to the point where this isn't enough for him anymore. Every time we've got to do a little bit more, make the chase a little bit harder, punish them a little bit longer. It's like he's never satisfied now.

I remember when we first started, it was our secret. It was pretty cut and dry. We'd see someone we wanted and we'd grab them. We'd have fun with them and drop them off in some remote area of town when we were done. Now, it's this big, elaborate game for him. He's into wooing them, getting them to come willingly and then when we get them in the car the fun begins. He's into the screaming and begging now and I honestly don't think any of them have walked away afterward in the past few months.

He's getting out of control, but what can I do about it? It's not like I can walk away from him or this life. I'm in too deep and truthfully I don't want to. I tried once. I tried to make a clean break, but the hunger got to be too much. I felt like I was going to crawl out of my own skin. My heart raced all the time, my hands shook, my mouth stayed juicy… I couldn't sleep or eat. I guess this is my addiction.

"If you don't break your wrist trying to untie yourself if you're free when he gets here, he'll do it for you." I feel like it's the least I could do. She should at least know that he's not really a person you want to fuck with. If he ties you up, when he comes back, your ass better still be tied up. It makes him crazy if they upset the scene that he has in his mind. “Besides, if he comes back here and finds out that you got your hands free, he's gonna be pissed. There’s no telling what he might do to you then."

I notice how quiet she is suddenly, but I can still hear her muffled cries. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But she has something I need so my sympathy only goes so far. Still, I feel like I should be doing something to try to make her stay here a little more enjoyable. I mean, she did ask to come. She wanted us to show her a good time, but this part isn't very fun though. I wish he would hurry up.

I move over to the leg of the table that he's got her tied to and sit down next to her. "You smoke?" I notice the way she's trying to scramble away from me like I'm going to do something to her. I understand her reaction but really where does she think she's going to go? The binds are entirely too tight and I'm not tied up. Anywhere she can scramble too, I can, too.

If I felt up to it, I'd play along and show her that I'm in charge, but I’m really not that into it tonight. I just want to get this over with and go home. I'm tired. She put up much more of a fight than I thought she would. I hate it when I'm exhausted before we even get started.

I fold my legs beneath me and touch the end of the lit match to the wick of the candle. It really doesn't illuminate the room much, but at least it allows her to see my face and me hers. She really is pretty especially with the way the tears have stained her smudged face and her hair clings to her skin with sweat. Her teeth are so white against the soiled rag tied around her head to keep her quiet. She has the prettiest blue eyes, even if one is almost swollen shut. He didn't have to hit her so hard.

"You want a cigarette?" I hold the pack up to her face and watch as her eyes fix on me and not on the pack. "They're safe. I didn't put anything in them."

I try to offer a smile to lighten the mood, but she doesn't seem any more relaxed. "I'm gonna untie your gag, but you gotta cooperate, okay? If you scream, I'll cave your face in." I notice how she flinches when I talk to her. I hate threatening her, but I think it's only fair that she knows what's coming if she disobeys.

I reach over to her and put my hands behind her head. Her hair feels like silk under my fingers. Even after I loosen the tie I let my fingers curl around her locks for a few seconds longer to feel how soft they are. Once the gag hangs loosely around her neck, I sit back and smile at her. I don't really have anything to say at the moment, so I pack the box of cigarettes and select one for her enjoyment.

"Here ya go." I feel my own mouth open as I put the cigarette up to hers and my heart speeds up when I see her lips open and close around the filter. I pick up the candle and hold it close to her face and watch as the flame catches to the end of the butt. "That's better." I light my own cigarette with the candle before I place it back on the floor.

She looks like she's struggling to puff and keep the thin layer of smoke from getting into her eyes. Poor thing. I'm trying to be helpful, as I reach across and take the cigarette away from her mouth to giving her a moment to breathe in some of this moldy air.

"What are you gonna do to me?" This is the first time she’s spoken since we left the bar. While we were there I found her voice to be whiny and irritating, but now I like it. It's soft and vulnerable and it quivers with each word.

Hmm? What are we gonna do? He doesn't like to do the same thing two nights in a row, and we did so much last night. What is he planning for tonight? "I don't know. What would you like to do?"

The look she gives me amuses me. I love it when they're interactive. It’s like she’s enjoying this as much as I am. "I'd like to go home."

"I can ask if that can happen. But you have to be good." It’s better if she knows the rules, upfront. If she knows that if she pleases him, there’s a better chance of just living with the memories of tonight instead of not living at all – I think that puts the odds in her favor. See, I’m a nice guy like that.

Of course, you always get the ones that take that information and go crazy with it. Those are the ones that piss him off. Those are the ones that don't get to see the next day. Those are the ones we read about in the newspaper while we're sitting around at the breakfast table.

I place the cigarette back to her lips and she takes a deep breath. I love the way the plume of smoke dances around her face as she exhales. It seems to be working…she’s relaxing. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" No one is so special that we can't use them. That's why we pick the ones we do because they're special. "You're perfect for what we need."

"And what's that?" Her tears are falling faster as her fear is taking over.

"A fantasy woman." I can feel myself smirk as I hand her back the cigarette.

It’s something about seeing her pink tongue touch her bottom lip that ignites something in my belly and turns on a switch in my head. All of a sudden I don't feel like I'm sitting on the floor in this broken down, dirty room, instead, I'm running in a field of green grass, chasing fireflies with my brothers. I feel young, wild and free. I feel creative and imaginative.

I feel alive.

I don't know how much time passes before I hear him enter the room. All I know is I can't look at him. I can't meet his eyes.

"What the fuck happened?" I hear his voice from behind me and it takes everything I have to pull my wet hands from my face.

"I don't know." I can feel the cold stickiness left on my cheeks and the warm tears that run across them. I let my eyes focus on my red hands as the almost completely burnt out candle flickers.

I hear his footsteps moving closer to me. He's walking slowly, so I know he's not angry, but that's no excuse. His presence looms as he stands beside me, but then he runs his fingers through my hair. There's nothing I can do but turn to him and wrap my arms around his waist and cry against him.

"It is okay, Brother." I can feel his lips touch my scalp as he bends down to coo and stroke the back of my neck. Even though I can't see his face, I know he's looking at the scene on the floor. I know he sees the blood still dripping from where her face once was. He has to notice that her skirt has been pulled away and instead of the gag in her mouth, her panties are halfway down her throat.

I swear I don't know how she got like that.

I don't remember.

Clinging desperately to him, I try to bite back my sobs. "I don't understand why this keeps happening. I can't stop it, Ivar. I need help."

"No, Hvitserk. You don't need help, Big Brother,” He says looking down at me with a reassuring smile, gently wiping away my tears. “You just need me."

Next Chapter

Tag list: @geekandbooknerd @thelastemzy @the-jess-life @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @cfmvirgo @gingerbread-the-indoor-tomcat @where-beauty-goes-to-die @amy8220 @justanothterlazzyperson @unmotivatedwritings @dangerousgiantalmondbat @b-j-d @youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @oddsnendsfanfics @alexandersenx @flowers-in-your-hayr @honestsycrets

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anerdquemoraaolado · 4 years

Text

Through Chrissie’s eyes

Making Music (or Mess)

After a week in which Smile had become Queen, it seemed the boys had finally settled for the name and the looks, or at least starting to adapt to Freddie's ideas. Brian was having a hard time with it. Every time he checked his reflection in the mirror, he would sigh in frustration as he watched his hair begin to curl. Finally, when Saturday came and he got ready for the show that night, I was speechless to see his new hairstyle.

“What's it?" He sounded scared "I look awful, don't I?"

"Wow ..." was what I could utter, feeling my heart beat harder, unable to ignore his full, perfectly curly hair framing his face.

"Oh, I knew it was a bad idea ..." Bri complained, wailing.

I ignored what he said, approached him and put my hands on his face.

"I didn't know you could be more handsome ..." I praised him sincerely, a little surprised at myself for saying it out loud.

"So ..." he blushed, "do you like my hair like this?"

"It's perfect." I smiled and kissed him, so he would be sure I said the truth.

"Thanks." Brian thanked me, relieved.

The van's horn interrupted us and hurried us to meet the boys, this time I was free to see the show that night, one of the rare times I went to see Queen that year. But finally, after much effort and dedication to my academic life, I was able to graduate, finally being a teacher properly. I just lacked my own class for my professional life to be complete.

While I was looking for a job, Brian continued to unfold with shows, college, and work, and the boys continued to show up in almost every little town and college in the area, facing how they could a problem here and there like the day they stood on the road because of a flat tire, and Freddie, being Freddie, ignored the affliction and impatience of his friends to tell them what was his next big idea for Queen.

When Brian came back from Glasgow, both me and him had great news to tell each other. The van stopped in front of our apartment for him to get off, the boys were so exhausted that we wouldn't meet tonight, all the poor musicians wanted was a good night's sleep. I got up immediately when Brian came in, and gave him a tight hug, even tired, he lifted me off the floor, as he always did when he was excited and celebrated something good with me, so I figured he had some great news to tell me.

"How I missed you Chrissie" he said, still hugging me, "you won't believe what happened."

"I also have some things to tell you." I stroked his hair as he spoke. "But I'm sorry, my love, you're going to release me to let me talk."

He laughed and kissed me, so we sat down to listen to what we had to tell each other.

"Go first," Bri said, and I sighed and smiled, happy for what had happened to me.

"I got a job," I said. "I'll start next week, I'll finally be a teacher in practice!"

"Congratulations!" Brian cheeered, his gaze was full of pride "this is very, very good, speacially now"

"Now tell me, what happened?" I was curious to know.

"Um ... I have to tell you first that a tire stuck in the middle of the road, thank God we didn't suffer an accident or anything, we only delayed a bit and abused of John's goodwill, I confess, but in the middle of that chaos" Brian stopped to catch his breath !Freddie wants us to record some of our songs ... for a potential future album."

"But how? You don't have a studio or a record company, "I interrupted for a moment." I'm sorry, I sounded pessimistic, I just worry, I mean, the idea is incredible."

"So, that's where your news comes in handy ..." Brian bit his lip apprehensively. "We did some quick calculations and it's going to take about three months of work from the four of us to raise enough money to pay to rent a studio."

"And now, with me working, it won't weigh on our budget" I said aloud to him, what I was thinking, the reason why I giving classes was good for us in that moment.

"Exactly!" he gestured with emphasis on what he said "well, even not weighing for us, we still have to sell the van ..."

"Sell the van?" I jumped with fright with the idea, I couldn't help but worry !but how are you going to the shows outside of London now?"

"That's what I thought too ..." Brian turned his head, worried and thoughtful, "but Freddie is confident we'll find an agent for the demos, someone will like it and hire us, and then we'll have a label to manage our shows , Wow!"

He was surprised at what he said out loud, realizing that what they were hoping to happen was, at the moment, daring to think and unlikely to happen.

"It's a great dream," I said, "difficult, but not impossible. And you know what Bri? You are doing your part to make it happen, and that is the first step to make it a reality."

"Yes, it is," Brian smiled, looking at me hopefully. "Besides, I have to start working on new songs."

"Well, then, rest your thinking little head." I touched my forefinger lightly on his forehead "and then you start to work."

Brian soon followed my advice, going to sleep deeply and without interruption. In the following days, whenever he had a little time, or had an idea suddenly, he would run to write down in his notebook. He scrawled the words of the song, hummed melodies, tried to play a little in the Red Special. While he was creating, he always had curls in his eyes, his eyes focused, his lips half open, always murmuring ideas under his breath. Seeing him like this always made me feel like I was melting inside ... I tried to not stare when he was composing, no matter how much Brian knew how much I loved him.

Freddie also appeared at home at one time or another to compose with Brian, make suggestions here and there, discuss the theme of each song they would record, as well as vocal arrangements and instruments. It was unbelievable to see them literally speaking the same language (in terms of understanding music and understanding one another) after the quarrels and misunderstandings of when they met. There was one song in particular that I was kind of present while they hit the last details of it.

"You have that huge gap after the first stanza you can come in with a solo," Freddie suggested to Bri.

"Ok" my boyfriend nodded and started playing, stopping occasionally to jot down what he was composing.

"And after that, I don't want to repeat the chorus, just "seven seas of Rhye" at the end of each stanza," continued the lead singer, "and you accompany me along, just let me do the ending alone."

"Pulling "forever" when we harmonize," Brian reminded Freddie and nodded. "Yeah, looks like it's going to be great."

"But of course it will, don't underestimate our talent." Freddie patted Brian on the arm with enthusiasm.

So they finished their short session of the day, and continued in that endeavor in the ensuing trials and in saving for the expenses of the recordings. After three months, they finally got the money they needed and finally started recording. The poor boys woke up very early because the only time nobody recorded was at dawn. Mary and I would accompany them when we could, now that I had graduated, even with work, I had plenty of time reasonably. Despite sleep and fatigue, there we were.

I could see between Mary and Freddie a certain complicity, a connection that he didn't have with any of us, even with us being close friends, it was something different and special. Both I and Brian, Roger, John and Veronica were expecting an official announcement of their date, but the way we knew them well by living together, Freddie and Mary didn't even need to say something about it.

Thinking about the tiredness we always felt when we saw the boys recording, and as we always ended up sleeping on the sofa in the studio, I had the idea of bringing coffee to the band and the girls (Mary, me, Veronica and Roger's date of the week) to help to deal with the sleep a little. As I made coffee in the kitchen, I could see Brian's uneasy movement around the house. I tried to ignore it and keep doing what I was doing until he opened the cupboards and picked up spoons and pots wildly.

"Bri, what are you doing? You're going to dismantle the whole apartment like that" I couldn't take it any more, and I turned to him, half-regretted that I was staring at him like he was crazy.

"I'm sorry for the mess" he sounded like a child caught by the mother doing something wrong "I promise I'll give it all back, we'll experiment with the sounds and explore the effects as an arrangement, without needing a synthesizer ..."

"All right, you convinced me," I raised my hands, laughing, "this is kinda ... ingenious.

"It sounds crazy now, but you'll see, it's going to be very good" my boyfriend smiled at me excitedly.

"I believe you," I said.

I finished my coffee and together we took the first bus that circulated in the day. Arriving in the studio, what the boys did with the objects the four brought seemed a child's play, and although they were serious about what they were doing, it was clear how they also had fun in the process. Among coffee, music and laughter, we saw a dream come true little by little.

#bo rhap #bohemian rhapsody #bo rhap fic #chrissie mulen #chrissy mullen #borhap!brian may #borhap!chrissie #borhap!chrissy #borhap!queen #brissie #brian x chrissie #brian x chrissy #through chrissie's eyes #my writing

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mattie-bo-baddie · 5 years

Text

Weekend with the weirdos

**Alrighty y'all, I'm about to talk about some grown-folk sex stuff in here, just so y'all know.**

Right now, it's Saturday night, and I am sitting at a picnic bench at a queer clothing-optional campground in the middle of nowhere (so middle of nowhere that I won't be able to post this until Sunday when I'm back to civilization and wi-fi) taking part of a kink/Leather camp event. We finally had the chance to get away for the weekend and god, did we fucking need it.

This is the first time I've been out-of-town to be around other queer kinky folk since my husband died, and our first time camping in at least two years. Needless to say, I've been going through a lot of emotions since we've been down here.

Don't get me wrong, I've had a shit-ton of fun since we've been here, holy hell! I got to play in a mud pit earlier today, we went swimming, I drove crazy backwood country roads with no one else in the car yelling at me to stop driving like a madman, and I plan on getting sufficiently sloshed around a campfire tonight.

But lord, it's been hard too. This is an event that me and my husband used to come to every year, so there are a lot of memories here. My friends here are great people, but they're not people we see all the time, so they don't deal with the giant ball of grief constantly hanging over them. It's almost like seeing us reminds them that he's gone.

That's why right now I'm sitting at this picnic bench by myself, typing away, instead of watching the mummification demo going on in the gazebo down the road. Sometimes I just can't be around other people, their energy is just too much for me . I know people that don't know me terribly well worry because I tend to seclude myself when it gets to be too much, and I’ve been doing it a lot lately.

I'm learning to not worry about it though. I know myself well enough to know that I absolutely need the time to myself, otherwise the bullshit in my head gets to be too much. I get cranky, then start biting people’s heads off for stupid shit. I already feel bad enough for everything else, I don’t want to add being a bitch on top of it.

But it’s a strange thing, when you are the survivor of something like this. You feel like there’s this big spotlight on you all the time. “Hey there’s the widow whose husband killed himself!” I know people talk about me when I’m not around, and I feel like there will always be this weird guilty feeling hanging over me that people see how I'm living my life, the choices I make, what I do, how I react, and think I'm not doing it right. That I'm not grieving properly.

Guilt is one of those things you can’t be prepared for.

You feel guilty for having fun when he's not here to be a part of it.

You feel guilty for making plans for a future where he's not there.

You feel guilty for the terrible thoughts that pop into your head unexpectedly.

You feel guilty relearning how to be your own person again.

You feel guilty for the days that you want to live in your bed and never come out.

I'm trying to get past that and just live.

***

Update - I went to the end of the demo, I was wrong, it wasn't a mummification demo, it was a saran wrap spiderweb suspension! The demo bottom was a young long-haired cutie, had a whole queer Jesus vibe going, it was beautiful! Just came back from a sounding demo. Ooo, that was an eyeful. And might be beating on someone later... fingers crossed that works out. Mama's got some aggression she wants to work on, and I haven't had the time to flog anyone in forever!

***

Last update!!

Home now, tired as fuck, thinking over everything before bed. The drive home was great, got plenty of time to just think. I have the next chapter of my selkilock fic plotted out completely, and I maybe have a Good Omens PWP idea that I’ve started working on….. (let’s just say, Sheen’s video the other day of him saying he’d gone “full feral” gave me some ideas). I did get to have a scene on Saturday night, so that was a very welcome relief. Like I said, some things just need to get out! (but I’m old and out of practice, because Jesus! I’m freaking sore from that little work-out!!)

And since I couldn't really take any pics of the "activities" you get pics of the silly stuff I could get...

#losing a love one to suicide #survivor of suicide loss #Leather-Folk #Queer camping #I lead a strange life when you think about it

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winchesterprincessbride · 7 years

Text

The Song Remains the Same-Part 2

Master List

Part 1 (all parts are linked)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Meg Masters, Castiel Novak, Gadreel, Reader

Text messages are in bold

Madison Square Garden Arena, 2017

The concert had been sold out for months. Everyone who was anyone was clamoring for a ticket. The bands latest song, “Hunt You Down” had been number one on the charts for a record-breaking sixteen weeks straight.

Dean had recently been named People’s “Sexiest Man Alive”, and he couldn’t stop talking about it, much to everyone’s annoyance. It just served to add to his already over-inflated ego.

It was time for soundcheck, and the band gradually trickled in. Dean was first with his latest blond eye candy in tow. Cas and Meg, still together, came in second. Sam wandered in quietly, talking with Gadreel the lead guitarist in a low voice.

“Where’s Y/N?” Dean demanded. “Dammit, Meg, we don’t have time to waste with her bullshit! This concert is being filmed for Netflix. We have to be perfect! Find her!”

Meg sighed with annoyance and dialed your number. It went to voicemail. “You guys start warming up. Lemme try to locate her.” She sent you a text

Meg: Where are you?

Y/N: In the limo outside.

Meg: Should I come?

Y/N : Yes, please

Meg found the limo and hopped in. She took in your tear-stained face and swollen eyes. “What’s going on, Y/N?”

“I don’t think I can play tonight.” You mumbled, fresh tears pouring out. “I just came from the doctor. I’m….I’m pregnant, Meg.”

A huge grin broke out on Meg’s face. “That’s amazing news! Have you told him yet? He’s gonna be so excited!”

You and Meg had been friends for a long time. Meg knew you wouldn’t disappoint the fans, you just needed a minute to freak out and then you would be fine.

You shook your head sadly, the tears starting again. “What am I going to do, Meg?”

She gave you an appraising stare. “Is there something your not telling me?

“How do I tell the man I love that I don’t know if my baby is his or his brother’s?” You sobbed.

Stanford 2007

You worked your ass off for the next three days and mastered the band’s songs like you had been playing them forever. Dean grudgingly admitted to Sam that you were a very talented drummer. You were also a huge pain in the ass. You challenged him constantly and seemed completely immune to his charm. He wasn’t used to that.

Sam thought you were adorable, all that fire and sass wrapped up in such a small package. You and he became fast friends. He secretly loved how you didn’t take any of Dean’s shit.

Cas liked your feistiness, you reminded him of his Meg. You were a welcome change from the unreliable Balthazar. Meg knew if she could prevent you and Dean from killing each other, that the band really had a chance of making it. She hoped the guy from Death Siren saw what she did.

You were all sitting around eating pizza when you looked over at Dean. “Can I give you some advice?”

“I suppose,” Dean responded neutrally.

“I don’t think you should do lead guitar and vocals. You should just focus on vocals. You have an amazing voice, but your guitar skills are mediocre at best. Hire a lead guitarist. My cousin Gadreel is amazing on guitar and he….”

“No.” Dean practically growled, interrupting you. “You don’t get to come in here after three days and tell me I suck at guitar. Fuck you! I need some air.” He flew out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Wow, Y/N. That was a little harsh.” Sam commented.

“It may have been harsh, but it was the truth. Seems to me everyone kisses Dean’s ass around here. I’m just being honest. Nevermind, forget I said anything. I need a break. I’m going for a walk.” You walked out the other door, in the opposite direction Dean had gone.

The night of the concert came, and everything just gelled together perfectly. Your outfit of denim short shorts, thigh-high black boots, and a black leather vest made Dean do a double take. “That’s more like it!” He said with a smirk right before you took the stage.

“Bite me, Dean!” You snapped, taking a seat behind your kit.

“Keep dressing like that, sweetheart, and I just might.”

Your adrenaline level after the concert was through the roof. Sam grabbed you in a bear hug backstage. “You sounded amazing, Y/N!”

You gave him a silly grin because the celebratory beer someone had shoved into your hand had gone straight to your head. You’d been way too nervous to eat before the show. “You weren’t half bad yourself, handsome.”

Sam was about to say something when Meg came running over. “The rep from Death Siren Records wants to meet you guys!” She said excitedly. “Where’s Dean?”

“I thought I saw him go down the hall there.” You commented, pointing behind you.

“Can you go grab him, Y/N? Sam, can you come with me? You’re really good at kissing up to people.” Meg commented as she grabbed his arm.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot, Meg.”

You went off down the hall in search of Dean. You were positive you had seen him come down this way. “Dean?” You called softly. No answer. At the end of the hall, you came to a door that was half ajar. And from the moans and cries that were coming out from behind it, someone was getting lucky.

“For the love of…….” you began angrily.

Marching up to the door, you took a deep breath and stuck your head in. Dean had a blonde backed up against the wall, her legs around his waist, and he was pounding into her. She was wailing and moaning like a bad porn star but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Dean! The guy from Death Siren wants to meet us! Meg sent me to find you! Would you put it back in your pants and come on!” You hissed furiously.

He looked over at you and smirked. “Jealous, Y/N?”

“Not even a little, asshole.” You snapped before pulling the door shut.

By the time you got backstage, Dean was right behind you, looking rumpled and gorgeous. You whispered to him, “She was totally faking it, you know that, right? That the best you could do?”

“You offering to take her place?” He asked, giving you a look that suddenly made you shiver.

Before you could respond, Meg saw you and pulled you and Dean over towards a dark-haired man dressed in all black. “Guys, this is Fergus Crowley, from Death Siren Records.”

“Nice performance. I like your look and your sound. I love that you have a female drummer. That makes you unique. I’d like to have a meeting with you and your manager next week if it’s convenient. Here’s my card. Call my office to set something up. I look forward to talking with you.” He handed his card to Meg before departing.

After he had left, Meg grabbed her beer bottle that she had stashed behind a piece of equipment. She clinked her bottle with yours. “I knew getting you in the band was our ticket to bigger and better things! Now let’s go get drunk!”

The five of you stood outside the chrome and glass building that housed the L.A.offices of Death Siren Records. It was just almost time for your meeting with Fergus Crowley.

“Okay guys, this is it,” Meg said to the four of you. “This is our chance. Let’s not blow it. I have worked too damn hard to get you here. Try not to be an asshole, Dean, okay?” Dean just scowled at her.

Cas put his arms around Meg and rested his head on her shoulder. She visibly relaxed. “Everything will be fine, Babe. We got this.” Cas said firmly before kissing the top of her head.

You marveled at them. How the prickly, mercurial Meg and the calm, zen Cas worked as a couple you just did not understand. But they did. They were one of the most solid couples you had ever seen.

“Are you ready for this?” You asked Sam.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.” He replied firmly. Dean was standing apart from the group, and he looked really nervous. You walked over to him.

“I’m only gonna say this once, so listen up. You are very talented. Don’t ever doubt that. Yeah, the girls are gonna die when they get a load of you, but you are way more than a pretty face. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

For once, he didn’t make a smart-ass remark. He just smiled at you and said, “Thanks, Y/N. I needed that.“

You tried not to fidget as you sat in Crowley’s office sipping Perrier waiting for him to arrive. He was running late from a meeting. You felt eyes on you and when you looked Sam was staring at you. “What? Is my face dirty?”

“No! Nevermind.” He said quickly, looking away.

Finally, Crowley arrived. “Sorry I’m late, boys…..and girl.” He hastily added. “So, I think you have just the sound we have been looking for. We would like to sign you to a 2-record deal and get you into the studio to record a demo. There is just one change I think needs to be made.”

“And that is?” Meg asked.

Crowley turned to Dean. “I think you should focus on being the lead singer only. You are good at working the audience, especially the women, and with your looks, we need to play that up. Your guitar skills are good, but not great. You need to hire a lead guitarist.”

“I know someone.” You piped up. “My cousin Gadreel is a great guitarist and is interested in joining the band.”

Dean shot you an annoyed look. He was waiting for you to say, “I told you so.”

“I’m going to give you a week to get this Gadreel on board. I will book you some studio time for the end of next week if that works for you.” Crowley asked.

“I would like to have our lawyer look over the contract before we sign,” Meg stated regally.

“Of course,” Crowley said smoothly. “I’ll have my assistant give you a copy. I look forward to hearing from you.” And he stood up, indicating the meeting was over. You shook hands with him and left.

As we made the long drive back to Standford in Dean’s Impala, everyone chatted excitedly. Since Sam was pre-law be began reviewing the contact in the car. Meg’s mother Lilith was a lawyer, and she was going to look over the contact and see if it was legit.

Cas was busy scribbling in the notebook he always carried around with him. “What are you writing, Cas?” you asked curiously.

“Song lyrics.” He said absently, humming under his breath.

“Don’t bother talking to him, he’s in “The Zone.” Meg joked. “He barely even knows we’re here. You should text Gadreel.”

You pulled out your phone and sent off a text to your cousin.

Y/N: Hey Gad, it’s me

Gadreel: Hey Cos, what’s up?

Y/N: We are probably getting signed by Death Siren and need a lead guitarist. You interested?

Gadreel: Hell yeah!

Y/N: Can you meet us tomorrow morning at 8 to jam?

Gadreel: Sure, where?

Y/N: 5115 North College Ave.

Gadreel: Cool, see you then!

You turned to Meg. “Gad is in. He’s coming tomorrow to practice with us.”

“Perfect.” She said happily. You looked up in the mirror and saw Dean scowling at you, his eyes stormy. He was clearly pissed about something.

“Is there a problem?” You asked.

“I’m not sold on this idea.” He muttered.

“But you heard what Crowley said!” You responded, annoyed.

It was late when we got back to Stanford. Meg wanted to drop the contract off at her parent’s so she headed out with Cas in tow. Sam was still trying to keep up with his classes and he had a test to study for so he left soon after. You decided to get in some practice time since you had too much nervous energy from the long car ride.

After you had let loose on the drums for a good fifteen minutes you looked up. Dean was leaning against the doorway, long legs crossed, watching you play. He clapped a few times and you ripped your headphones off.

“Your still here?” You said rudely.

“Watching you let loose on the drums is one of the hottest things I have ever seen in my life.” He said in a low voice, walking towards you.

“Look, Dean, I know you’re mad about Gadreel….” you began.

He was standing in front of you now, his green eyes burning into yours. “Oh, I’m not mad. I want to do what’s best for the band. I’m just frustrated.”

You cocked your head to one side. “About?”

His hand reached out and caressed your face, tilting your chin up. Your wide eyes met his, and you were almost hypnotized by the brilliant green. “About how much you piss me off, and yet I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Dean….I…..” You started to say.

“Do you ever shut up?” He asked before pressing his lips against yours

@skybinx-blog @percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it @pinknerdpanda @atc74 @jayankles @notnaturalanahi @midnightjazzmine @moonlitskinwalker @we-are-band-sexuals @winchestergirl-love @gecko9596 @ronnie248-blog @essie1876 @bohowitch @just-another-busy-fangirl @jotink78 @captainradicalpassion @keelzy2 @disneymarina @kittenofdoomage @mrswhozeewhatsis @oriona75 @frankiea1998 @akshi8278 @stylinson531 @valynsia @dr-dean @theoutlinez @imweirdandobsessed @growningupgeek @luciisthebest @laurenisnot @maddieburcham1 @canadianjelly @muliermalefici @brewsthespirit-blog @ilsawasanacrobat @nanie5 @weasleywinchester-blog @samisimportant @fatalcrossbow @violetsamalamb @letmusicguideu @grantsgorgeousgirl @faegal04 @feelmyroarrrr @kay18115 @milkymilky-cocopuff @mikimausiii @the-greatest-temptation @mrsbatesmotel53 @winchesterxtwo @superpanicromancesummer

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90sgrungewriter · 7 years

Text

1. Untitled - Eddie Vedder

Status: Unedited

“Come on, you’ll be able to meet our new singer! The dude is a fucking beast when he gets up there. You promised you’d be at our first show and you bailed, now’s your chance to make it up to ol’ Stoney!” The long-haired man ruffled your hair while you tried swatting his hand away, rolling your eyes as you sat your paint brush and tray down on the small table to your left. You stood up and glared at him.

“Go fuck yourself. I had come back late from my class, you know I felt bad about that!” You spoke loudly. You didn’t understand why it mattered so much that you were there to begin with. Stone Gossard was a popular guy.

You and him had been friends for years, along with Jeff Ament. Since grade school, you guys were the three musketeers. You often sit back and think about those days, and where you’s all are now. It was awesome that the friendship was still strong as ever, even in your twenties. While they had chose the musical way, you leaned more towards art and painting. Not that you weren’t musically inclined, in fact you were just as advanced as Stone on guitar, if not more. But for some reason it just didn’t compare to the way you felt when your paint brush stroked across the surface. That was your thing.

It was a Saturday afternoon, you finally had a day off. You had been painting all day, Tom Petty blasting out your record player. Then Stone came in the picture, begging you to attend his Mookie show. They had recently gotten a new singer, some guy from California. You had heard the infamous demo tape, and he did indeed have the voice of an angel. But its not what you wanted to do tonight. To attend a sweaty show crowded with drunk people didn’t sound very appealing. You wanted some alone time, to just do your thing, but the guilt from ditching his last show still weighed heavy on your heart.

Yes, Stone could be annoying as fuck, but he was still your friend. Almost family. It felt that way anyway. His parents had always treated you like their own, they were so kind. You knew you had to go tonight.

“The guys miss you, they haven’t seen you in forever. You’ve been so busy. Jeff would be happy as all fucking hell if you were there. Please?” He gave his doe-eyed stare and you just turned away and sighed.

“Alright Stone. You got me. I’ll be there-” You were interrupted when he engulfed you in a bear hug, your face squished up against his chest. He was wearing a navy blue sweater with black shorts and his dark boots. He smelled like cigarettes and mint. He had on his Dallas Cowboys hat with a bandanna underneath. He pulled away, a wide smile across his lips his hands rest on your upper arms tightly.

“Thanks Dani! We’ll pick you up around 7. Be ready!” He kissed your cheek and with that, left your small apartment. You chuckled to yourself as you turned back to your painting.

“You’re welcome Stone.” You smiled softly, and brushed the wet paint on to the canvas.

---------

It was currently 6:30 and you were touching up the last bits of your painting. You knew the guys would be here to pick you up soon, so you decided against cleaning shit up. That could wait.

Instead, you made your way to your bathroom and washed what you could of the paint off you. After that, you brushed your teeth and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your short hair that ran just below your jawline was a bit matted, but didn’t look terrible so you just let it be. You had no makeup on, not that you even owned any, and you didn’t quite care. Sure you had breakouts sometimes, but covering that up wasn’t going to make you feel better about yourself. Right now though, that wasn’t the case, thankfully.

You went to your bedroom and quickly changed into your dark, ripped denim overalls and paired it with your black Chili Peppers t-shirt. Just as you were putting on your socks you heard your front door open.

“Honey we’re home!” A male voice yelled. Jeff.

Footsteps approached your room and that infectious smile stood in your doorway.

“Hey Jeff. New hat?” you questioned standing up, observing. He was an avid fan of quirky hats and you loved it. This hat was pink and huge. He grinned and grabbed it with his hand, placing it on top of your head. You glanced in the mirror and giggled. You looked pretty fucking goofy.

“Yes mam! Thrift store down the road from here. They got some pretty wicked stuff in there, man. You should check it out!” He stated enthusiastically and threw his arm around your shoulder. You smiled at the touch.

You slipped on your black boots and the two of you made your way outside, talking stupid shit like always. He led you to the truck they had been using since the good Love Bone days. It was big enough to put all the gear in and it had some value, you figured they would never part ways with it.

There was loud music coming from within the truck, and you had assumed all the guys were in there but as you looked, it was only Mike, whom occupied the drivers seat. He made his way out and around over to you.

“Hey you! Where have you been hiding? Its been a while.” He asks teasingly as he wraps his arms around you. You wrapped yours around his waist equally as tight.

Mike and you were pretty close, Stone introduced you two when you were about 15 years old. He was the one who practically taught you to play guitar. Out of the whole band, you felt like you could relate to Mike the most. He shared your quiet-like features, and definitely understood your anxiety issues. It was something you really appreciated and you enjoyed his company. It always made you happy to see these boys and you would always consider yourself lucky to have them in your life.

“I know, school has been stressing me out to the max lately.” You said as you pulled away and made your way to the back of the truck while he went back for his drivers seat. You were quickly stopped though, before you could even hop in.

“Ladies sit up front, don’t be silly.” Stone teased as he pushed you to the passenger side door that was wide open.

“How chivalrous of you, Gossard. I thank you.” You spoke heartily.

“I am! Whatever the fuck that means.” You laughed aloud and sat in your seat.

Next thing you guys were in the parking lot of the club.

“I’m gonna grab a beer. That cool?” You looked at them both. Jeff was opening the back doors to the vehicle to grab his gear.

“Yeah, if you see any of the guys in there tell them to come grab there shit.” You nodded in response and smiled. He winked and started grabbing his stuff.

You made your way inside and looked around. It wasn’t that bad, but you knew by the end of the night this place would be way more packed than it was now. But maybe some time with your friends was what you needed.

Before you could even find the bartender you spot Stone, so you just decided to make your way over there first. He sport the exact same clothing as before, which didn’t really surprise you.

“Well look who decided to actually show up tonight! Miss Dani, we are honored to have your presence at our second Mookie Blaylock show!” Stone spoke sarcastically, witty smile plastered on his face. You shot him a look. He was with Matt Cameron from Soundgarden and some guy you’ve never seen before. You could only assume that was Eddie. He was cute, his blue eyes gaze into yours for just a moment. You felt a positive energy radiate from him and it made you smile.

“Yes Stone, there’s absolutely no where else I’d rather be on earth right now.” You shot back, with a lot of sass. Matt laughed.

“Hey Dani.” Matt said to you. You waved your hand and smiled wide.

You turned to the curly haired man and held your hand out. “ Hi, you must be Eddie?” He smiled small and nodded, hand enveloping yours gently. “Im Danica. But most people just call me Dani. Nice to finally put a face to the voice! That was some demo tape bud, you got a beautiful style.” And that was the honest truth. His voice was literally liquid gold on that tape. He looked down, face flushing, small smile on his lips and his brows furrowed. He looked like he did not do well with compliments so to help him out you decided to just change the subject. The last thing you wanted to do was make this guy uncomfortable here. He was probably sick of gloomy Seattle and missing the beaches of sunny California already. You wondered how long he had been here for anyway? You pulled your hand back and let it fall to your side.

“Jeff is out by the truck and wants you guys to go get your shit.” You punched his shoulder. He grabbed it in fake hurt. You flipped him the bird and tried not to crack a smile. But that proved to be too hard.

“Yep, lets go Ed!” He chirped and made his way toward the entrance. Ed smiled lightly at you. You took it as an awkward thank you for the compliment you gave him and you returned the smile.

“I’m going to grab a beer.” you stated to Matt as Eddie was trying to catch up to Jeff.

“I’m with you, man.” Matt spoke and you guys made your way to the bartender for a cold one.

You had spoken to Matt on numerous occasions as Mother Love Bone (as well as Green River) have played quite a few shows with Soundgarden. He was a genuine guy, a bit quiet, but so were you. And you appreciated the silence sometimes. It was never awkward.

You guys drank your beers and spoke about upcoming Soundgarden shows. You hadn’t seen them play in a few months as things had been very hectic for them, so you were a bit excited as you learned they would be playing tonight too.

After the boys got their shit together, everyone watched Mudhoney perform an awesome show. Mark was a cool guy, and you were glad that he had a band of his own now. They were great. You all drank your beer and smoked cigarettes and laughed.There were a few joints passed around too so you were in an extremely good mood. People were definitely starting to crowd in.

You couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at Eddie every now and then. He didn’t say much, so people were always trying to get him to talk. You felt a bit bad, so maybe you could try and get him away from everything for at least a few minutes.

While the guys were distracted by Steve’s loud solo, your hand made its way to Eddie’s shoulder and you squeezed gently, trying not to startle him. You didn’t think it worked very well in your favor, as his head quickly turned to find you. His crystal eyes bore into your own hazel ones, face inches away. You didn’t mean to be that close to him and you hoped it didn’t make things weird. You were trying to get closer so you could talk to him without the others really paying attention. Not to mention it was super loud. You also almost forgot that Jeff’s hat was still on your head as it was just grazing Eddie’s forehead. You took a mental note to give it back to him before he goes up there.

Lucky for you, it didn’t seem to make Eddie too uncomfortable, but you did notice his face change. His brows furrowed as he pursed his lips, his cheeks were a light shade of pink and his eyes darted down to your lips for half a second. It happened so fast you almost wondered if it had really happened. But you were pretty certain it did.

“Wanna dip? We could go have a smoke outside? You look like you could step out for a few minutes.” You removed your hand as you spoke.

He merely nodded and you both stood up, leaving your empty bottles by your seats. Looking around, everyone was still just focusing on the awesome show that the Mudhoney guys were giving the crowd.

You made your way to the entrance, Eddie following behind you. Once you’s were outside you each lit one and smoked in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable and you were glad about that.

After a few minutes, you were halfway done your cig and you thought it was time to start up a small conversation, but he spoke first.

“Isn’t that Jeff’s hat?” He rose an eyebrow in curiosity. You giggled and nodded.

“Yeah, he put it on my head before we left my place and apparently its still up there.” You pointed up at it with your index finger. He laughed softly and took another drag.

“So how are you liking Seattle so far? Everything you thought it would be?” you took a puff, eyeing him. He looked sexy smoking.

He chuckled quietly, eyes glued to the ground. You had a feeling you were making it a bit awkward, but you were here now and nothing you could do. Just let it play out.

“I guess. It could be worse, right? I mean, the people are pretty cool.” He looked up at you, you observed his beautiful cheekbones. You noticed you were probably staring too long when he looked away and shook his head.

“I mean, its great.” He stuttered sounding a bit nervous. “I’m sorry, I’m insulting you aren’t I? Fuck, that’s not what I wanted to do. Its just-” You interrupted his rambling with a light chuckle.

“Don’t worry dude, I could give less of a shit what you think of the city I guess. Just trying to make a bit of talk. You miss your family right? I mean I don’t blame you. I would too.” You spoke evenly. He smiled slightly and took the last puff of his smoke and tossed it to the pavement.

“Yeah.” Was all he said.

You finished your smoke as well and put it out. You both still just sat there in silence staring at the street ahead of you. It was a bit busy, but nothing to crazy for a Saturday night.

Then, Eddie broke the silence this time. “Uh - Stone tells me you’re an artist?” You turned to find him already looking at you with a hint of curiosity.

“I guess. I mean, if you wanna call it that.” You smiled.

“I’d like to see your art sometime.” He said quietly, almost like he didn’t know what he was saying, like it just flowed naturally out of his mouth.

“Sounds like a plan.” You stated as you stood up. He got the idea and stood up as well, as you both made your way back inside the dingy nightclub.

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lucytara · 7 years

Text

clara/twelve fic: but we’re so happy [4/7?]

Clara’s talking about her new job and he’s staring in that way he’s not supposed to stare, like he adores her, like he’s addicted to every word out of her mouth, like love itself is in the room with them strung along in the space between their bodies, but they’re all drunk and no one’s paying attention now, anyway, and fuck it all, he’s so happy it’s killing her. Outside, it rains like it’s rained forever, but instead of a storm she finds a beginning. [punk rock au. secrets are fun until they aren’t. an album isn’t exactly a secret, she resists pointing out. 13k words. explicit. part 1/2/3]

but we’re so happy

January passes in a hazy blur of biting winter nights spent huddled together in the Doctor’s flat; the fireplace crackles endlessly like it’s on a loop and the sofa becomes home, turning pages beneath piles of blankets, choruses of chords. He shows her bare melodies and she offers advice; try an E flat, make this a G major 6, and she’s always right. He’s gone a lot in February, but he returns every weekend and plays her each song as the band records them, and she hears all the demos first - which is only fair, she argues, considering she’s the muse behind the brilliance - and it’s wildly flattering to listen to how he’s immortalized her and their relationship in his songs. She’s lying on his couch, arm over her eyes, absorbing every line of a track he’s tentatively titled ‘Death in Heaven.’

You said, “We’re already going to hell, so you might as well just fuck me tonight…”

He watches her grin, snarky. She says, “I was directly quoted. I want five percent of all royalties.”

He laughs under his breath. He’d spoil her to pieces if he thought it was actually something she wanted. “Threatening a lawsuit?” He teases, tossing a loose pillow at her.

She catches it, holding it to her chest. “Oh, absolutely. I’m all about the money.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

The CD pauses; the track ends. “Play it again,” she demands. “I missed some of it because of all your yapping.”

He rolls his eyes, but skips back; she’ll do this all day until she has every word memorized, and then she’ll sing along until she makes his own music sound sexy and he politely has to ask her please, for the love of God, stop.

She’s laying back and mouthing the words, lips barely moving, fingers tapping against her thigh; the moment is so untouched, untainted, right--

He says, “It occurs to me.”

Her eyes blink open slowly. “Yes?”

“People will be wondering,” he says. “Who I’m singing about, I mean.”

“They already are,” she replies, giving him a somewhat quizzical look. “After that stunt on New Year’s, what’d you think was gonna happen?”

He raises his eyebrows. The track ends again. “I don’t read YouTube comments,” he tells her pointedly.

She makes a noise of fake exasperation in her throat. “Plenty of theories so far. Fortunately the random girl seen with Jack out and about in London has not been included.” She extends an arm, gesturing for him to come closer.

He stretches out next to her on the couch, his head in the crook of her neck. She wraps an arm around him, hand rubbing his back. He says, “I don’t want it to frighten you off. Fame is - it’s awful, really. I don’t want you dragged into something you’re not ready for.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re young.”

Her hand stills. She turns her head and presses her lips to his hair. She says, understanding exactly where he’s coming from because she knows him better than anyone in the universe, “It’s not selfish of you to be happy and write about it. I’m not getting myself into anything I don’t want, Doctor, even if it may be difficult. Some things are worth the risk.”

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like love.” Her voice is coy. “But you knew the answer to that.”

He closes his eyes. “It’s nice to hear you say it.” He sighs into her. “I miss you when I’m away. Like I’m never quite sure which is my real life.”

The fire washes over the room in swathes of rich orange light. “Like you don’t know if you’re you when you’re with me or you’re you when you’re on stage?”

“Sort of,” he says. “Yeah.”

“I understand that,” she responds, and her fingers have started moving again, gentle and comforting.

“Though it’s better now that you’re the music, too,” he confesses, and then: “Actually, no, scratch all that. I feel more like me now than ever.”

She laughs quietly; he can feel her chest moving underneath his arm. “Guess I’ll have to stick around then, huh?”

He’s growing tired. “Well, I’d never want to force you into anything.”

Her other arm wraps around him in an embrace. “I think,” she says softly, lips against the shell of his ear, “that I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

She comes to London with him once for a few days; Jack’s there as well, helping Donna manage their schedules, single and album release dates, possible tour locations, while she hangs back in the actual studio, getting to watch him in a slower, subtler version of his element. The method of recording Gallifrey One employs is a-song-a-day; they work from the ground up on each song individually, so that by the time the track’s finished, mixing needs are minimal and it sounds raw and recognizable and them, instead overly polished.

“It works better for rock and punk rock,” Shona tells her, “because it gives them room for artistry - they’re building out the song as they go, but every take sounds like a completed record. Each element on top of the other, blending seamlessly. They’ve been playing a long time, so it’s a preferred technique for them.”

“If we have to, we’ll go back in for a bit of brick by brick,” Psi says, “but that doesn’t happen often - only if a significant change has been made. We dedicate about three weeks total to the entire process on our end, but the band spends a few weeks before this practicing. Mind you, they’ve got to write all their material before this, and tour; that’s why there’s such a long break between releases. Their last was, what, a year and a half ago?”

Shona and Psi are great about explaining to her the mechanics of what goes into actually producing a record - she knows more than they expect, and the band spends a lot of time fucking around in the booth, so they’ve plenty of time to teach her what she’s unfamiliar with - and when Vastra notices her touching the soundboard, she grabs the mic and speaks into it.

“Any notes, Bosswald?” She jokes, and the Doctor glances up, grinning.

“What’s the button I press to talk back? I’m not used to this board,” she asks, and when Shona points out it, she clicks it in and says, “Actually, yeah.”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow; Vasta smirks expectantly. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“On the bridge - add a D Minor after the D7. It’ll connect to the chorus better.”

Vastra looks at her with an expression of mild appraise, and moves her fingers to the appropriate strings, testing it out. The Doctor watches too, listening carefully.

“Hm.” He pauses her, thinking. River spins her drumsticks in the background. “Let’s try it as a whole. From the chorus, no vocals.”

River counts them in, and to the surprise of everybody except the Doctor, Clara’s right. He takes out a pencil from behind his ear and scribbles the addition onto his sheet, tongue between his teeth.

Psi’s impressed. “Did you study music?”

“Combined honours,” she admits. “Literature and music. I was raised on it. My dad owned a smaller studio when he was younger - it’s how he met my mum. She could play a lot of instruments. Guitar, bass, piano…I’ve only got the keys down, though, but I don’t get to play a lot anymore.”

“Well, great suggestion,” Shona says. “The Doctor barely even takes advice from us.”

Clara laughs lightly. “Humouring me, I’m sure. Glad it worked out.”

“She also has absolute and relative pitch,” the Doctor says, apparently having overheard the conversation; Psi’s pressing the button.

Shona whistles, a little more impressed; the Doctor catches her eye and winks. Psi says to the band, “Alright, everyone, taking it from the beginning. River, if you would...”

Clara watches them play through the song five, ten, twenty times, Shona and Psi adjusting various levels and keeping the fade at a minimum, fine-tuning the song with every alteration. Shona notices her intent interest and says, “Ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“Working in music.”

Clara blinks slowly. “Well, yeah...”

Shona grins. “You’re young, ain’t you? What, twenty-two, twenty-three? You got time.”

Clara pulls a face, grimacing. Getting to do what they do sounds incredible - music’s her passion, and of course she’d considered it, but after her mum had died...music had hurt in a way it hadn’t before. She hadn’t been ready, so she’d closed it off as a possibility. Studying it was one thing, but actually doing it was another; her fear had been finding her mum in every note, every beat, every chord, every song.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start, now,” she answers, sighing. “I mean, yeah, I’d love it. But it’s hard to break into, innit?”

Psi’s paying more attention to the band, but at that remark he throws a quick glance to her over his shoulder and a smile. “Sweetheart,” he says, “look where you are. I think you’ve probably made a few connections by now.”

“Like me,” Shona tacks on. “I work with plenty of artists that aren’t these four idiots, and I’ve a paid internship starting in May. I like you, and you clearly know enough about what you’re doing to at least manage an entry-level position - plus, you’re likable, charismatic. That’s important when working with oversized, temperamental children who want to believe everything they create is perfect the way it is.”

Psi leans in to give a note to the band and Clara says, in a state of shock, “It really is all about who you know.”

Shona laughs. “What d’you say?”

She has to shake herself out of it a bit, enough to answer, “I’d do anything to take you up on that opportunity, but I’m actually from Blackpool - that’s how I know Jack and the Doctor - and I don’t have the money to move to London at the moment.”

Shona screws up her face, thinking. “Blackpool,” she repeats. “I know a few people at 3W Recording Studios. I could give ‘em a call if you want to test out the market, see how you like it.”

“Are you serious?” Clara says, her body tingling. “Properly serious?”

“Absolutely!” Shona exclaims. “Why not give it a shot?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Clara responds, her voice wavering. She has no idea what she’s just gotten herself into, but had she really been planning on working in a club forever? She’d imagined writing, maybe, or teaching, but only at the lack of a viable path to what she’s truly passionate about. Music is her blood - perhaps it's time she let herself bleed again. “Thank you so much. I’d love to.”

“Give me your mobile, email, et cetera - I’ll take care of it, get you in touch.”

The song plays on in the background, fifty takes later, but now it sounds entirely new to her.

She tells the Doctor about it later over dinner, back at his flat eating Indian, and he’s unrelentingly supportive; as he says, he doesn’t understand why she hasn’t been doing it all along when she’s clearly got the right instincts for it. Jack, too, nods approvingly; “Look at you, gorgeous,” he says, digging into his curry and rice. “You’ve got the face for music.”

“I’ve no idea what that means,” she responds, which is not unusual for her when talking to Jack. “Is that an insult?”

“No, it’s a compliment. You’ve got the looks and the brilliance.”

She laughs, but the Doctor says, “Well, he’s not wrong.”

“Oh, look what I found today,” Jack says, whipping out his phone. “Jenny showed me, actually, since she’s the one on top of social media, but--”

He hands Clara his phone first - the Doctor’s busy tearing the naan apart - and it’s open to a Gallifrey One fan message board, on a thread purely about appreciating the Doctor.

“I can relate,” she says, and he laughs, but gestures for her to keep reading. The Doctor looks on curiously.

DoctorSaveMe posted:

Who’s that girl that’s been hanging out with the band recently? She’s pretty but looks super young? Anyone know the connection?

Straxxx posted:

do u have a pic? think i know who ur talking about but wanna make sure

TheDoctorIsIn posted:

from these pap pics?

She scrolls down and finds the shots of her from the first time she’d come to London with them, walking into Wahaca with Jack’s arm around her shoulders, the Doctor annoyed in the forefront.

DoctorSaveMe posted:

Yes! Her!

VastraNerada posted:

She’s jack’s girlfriend.

Straxxx posted:

yea thats what i thought too

DoctorSaveMe posted:

Oh really? Are you sure? That would make sense then, but I thought he was gay.

x_regenerated_x posted:

he’s bi I think. but yeah that’s definitely his new girlfriend. he’s been bringing her to a bunch of stuff recently. I think she knows martha too.

VastraNerada posted:

He posts loads of photos of them on his facebook. They’ve been friends for awhile but it looks like they just started dating recently.

The following posts turn into a debate about Jack’s sexuality and veer off of her, but still, the whole thing is surreal; seeing her own face on a forum dedicated to the man she’s dating, watching fans try to dissect her identity.

“These people are really...dedicated,” she says after, handing the phone to the Doctor. “Like, to know even that much about your personal life.”

Jack shrugs. “When I first started touring with them, I’d see posts like that about me, too. I used to be linked to River all the time. It worked in her favor back then, though.”

The Doctor finishes glancing over it, shaking his head. “Not that I don’t appreciate my fans, but I wish they’d fucking relax once in awhile.”

“They want to be the ones shagging you,” Clara says, smirking, “and as I said, I can relate.”

“They don’t even know me,” he replies, stealing one of her samosas.

“I used to have an account on your fanboard,” she reveals nonchalantly. “Dreams really do come true.”

He chokes in the middle of swallowing, and Jack slaps him on the back, laughing. Clara just grins evilly. “You’re fucking with me,” he manages to get out.

“Obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “Sometimes you hand me opportunities I just can’t pass up.”

“I hate you,” he says decisively.

“So there are two liars in this apartment,” Jack says, watching Clara take the Doctor’s face in her hand and press a kiss to his mouth.

“Maybe,” the Doctor says after, dazed.

Because he’s gone so often for the better part of a month and a half, room for concern and secrecy shrinks a little. They miss each other more than they’re trying to hide it. He comes to the bar; she meets him for pub food and a pint. When the weather gets a bit nicer, they walk around as disguised as they can be, on the off-chance any fans of his are out wandering the streets. They’re lucky at the moment, he tells her, because everyone thinks he’s in London working on the album; they don’t know he’s got someone he can’t stand to be away from.

Her camera roll fills up with him, and the two of them together: her favourite is one from a rainy day in early March, where he’s standing behind her and pressing a kiss to her cheek; it’d caught her off-guard and it shows on her face, alight with undeniable adoration. She makes it her home screen, blushing at the same time; he pokes her forehead and laughs.

He spends nights sitting on the floor of his flat, music sheets spread all around him, pages and pages of lyrics; he tells her what he’s having trouble with, sometimes playing her the notes, and she offers advice designed to cause ripples instead of waves, elevating the music to what he hears it to be in his head. One song in particular - it’s called Listen - has a chorus he can’t make work no matter what he does to it.

“All my songs are about you,” he says unabashedly, and then ruins it with, “so it’s only fitting that you get to write them, too. Control freak.”

She recognizes embarrassment of an overshare when she hears it; she grins widely, continuing to scratch out lyrics with a pencil. “Love you too, babe.” She passes the paper back to him.

Fear can shake you to your core but I’m not afraid of the dark

Touching behind closed doors and there’s more of you in the dark

“I’m an idiot,” he says.

“You just needed a fresh eye to change the order around,” she answers, patting him on the head. “But yes, you are an idiot.”

He snorts. “Fucking rude.”

She leans back against the sofa, reaching behind her for where her phone is plugged in, charging. She says, “You’re leaving again, so I have a request.”

At this, he glances up, amused. “Yes, dear?” He says, his inflection somewhere along the lines of anything for you.

She opens her camera and moves it to video. “Play me something.”

“Anything in particular?” He’s already reaching for his guitar.

“No. Doesn’t even have to be your own song.” She listens to him strum once and says, “Your G is flat.”

He grins and tunes the appropriate string; he loves the way they fit into each other, so evenly, so peacefully. He raises an eyebrow, waits for her to hit record, and starts playfully plucking out the opening to Slide.

She laughs, but she knows every word. “Are you flirting?” She asks, her smile extending to the sky. He winks and starts singing, filling in his own chords and arrangements for an acoustic version. Her video is all over the place - he’s getting up close to her phone, jamming out, barefoot and stepping on his own sheet music - and she can’t stop laughing until he gets to put your arms around me, what you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful...do you wanna get married or run away?

It’s just a song, but the feeling he puts into it has her heart thrumming in time to the lulls, stopping and starting and stopping, a crescendo that never quite breaks. Her smile drops slightly as her breath holds itself in; she meets his eyes, and he looks back at her knowingly, the curve of his mouth soft and his voice softer. He finishes the last note and sets the guitar on the floor, his hands cupping her face, meeting her lips again and again. Her phone falls to the side, forgotten. It’s just a song but he loves her in ways he can only sing about.

She gets the call unexpectedly - “God, I’m sorry, Shona’s an arse,” the woman says. “I’m Ashley - I work at 3W. It would’ve been lovely of her to have given you a bit more information.”

“Oh, my God,” Clara says as it dawns on her; she’d been chopping tomatoes and sets the knife down gingerly. “Blimey, I thought she’d just forgotten. I wasn’t gonna mention it, honestly.”

Ashley laughs on the other end. “That’s typical of her too, unfortunately, but you got lucky this time. I’m so sorry for the confusion.”

“Not at all,” Clara says. “I should be apologizing to you. I’m sure I sounded right cross when I answered.”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“Oh, no, just been listening to my dad rave about the government. That’ll put anyone in a state.” The remark gets another laugh out of the woman, and Clara’s feeling more confident about the whole thing already; at least she’s likable.

“So, I owe Shona a favour, but that’s not the only reason you’re getting a ring,” she explains. “It’s not terribly unconventional. From what I’ve heard, you studied it and haven’t quite figured out what to do with it. That’s all well and good.”

“Sounds about right,” Clara answers, wiping off her hands on a dishrag, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“I’d like to meet, have an interview, see what you know. Get a sense of where you are, what you’re interested in. Can we set something up, say, next week? I’ll send you an email with times and you can let me know what works for you.”

She stands blankly in her kitchen for ten minutes afterwards, too overwhelmed to do anything else; she thinks of her mum, notes that used to sting, and she finds only music instead of needles. She knows who to thank.

The Doctor answers her FaceTime on the third ring; he’s standing outside, she thinks, but the video’s blurry and he’s holding the phone away from his mouth. “Sorry, but I’ve got to take this. Cheers,” she hears him say, and then he steps back somewhere, his face coming into view.

“Aren’t you a sight,” he says, sighing. He’s wearing a deep blue hoodie with the hood up, and his glasses are on; she can see the wire from his earphones poking out from underneath. “I hate London.”

“So you always say,” she replies lightly, smiling. God, he’s beautiful. “Were you in the middle of something?”

“Nah. Fan stopped me for a photo,” he says. “They’re on River today - I popped off to get a sandwich.” He turns the phone slightly and the telltale glow of the Pret sign comes into view.

“Did you add in the fill?”

“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes mildly. “You were right. Helps give it a through line, and stops Strax from bollocking the key change before the bridge.”

“Miss you,” she tells him fondly.

“Miss you,” he echoes back. “What’s going on?”

She sets her phone against the window, propping it up so she can continue cooking whilst she updates him; she goes over the call, the date of their meeting, her nerves. He’s smiling softly at her - too softly, he’s in public, someone will notice tenderness on a man who otherwise looks so unapproachable - and when she’s finished, he says, “You’ll be brilliant. I’m happy for you. I’ll be proud of you once you get it.”

She laughs, now washing off a zucchini. “Thanks, dear. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He shifts his weight between feet, and then his fingers comes into view as he starts poking his screen. He says, “Babe, rain’s here. Mind if I ring you back in a bit?”

She feels her neck burning; for some reason, it really fucks her up when he calls her that - probably because he doesn’t do it too often, and when he does, it’s more of a slip up than an intention. “Protect your electronic devices,” she says.

“Ta,” he replies, hanging up.

She glances at the clock on the wall, trying to time her afternoon; she’s got to head into work around half past three, giving her another hour; he’ll ring her in about ten, depending on how many people stop him on the street. She smiles to herself, quietly, and something about the moment is so beautiful even in his absence. She’s content.

Outside, it rains like it’s rained forever, but instead of a storm she finds a beginning.

Jack’s not in until six; he’s stuck with the closing shift, but he does pull her aside immediately upon arriving, grinning eagerly. She follows obediently, not even batting an eye when he shoves her into a broom closet. “Check this out,” he says, shoving his phone in her face.

It’s the same forum, but a different thread with the caps-locked title I MET THE DOCTOR!!!

She’s torn between laughing and sighing, wondering if Jack’s just getting a kick out of people lusting after her boyfriend, but then she keeps reading--

He was outside a Pret in Westminster alone n he was rather covered up, didn’t fancy getting recognised, but he was so lovely n took a pic with me…

“Wait a minute,” Clara says suspiciously, skipping forward.

He got a facetime afterward n stepped away to take it. Said our goodbyes but listen - I reckon he was talking to a woman. He had this look on his face n all we heard him say was ‘aren’t you a sight.’

“Now, either he answered a call from you or he’s cheating on you, and we both know he’s forgotten people who aren’t you even exist, so by process of elimination--”

Clara smiles unwillingly. “It was me.”

SayGeronimo posted:

It’s top that you met him but I’d refrain from speculation. He doesn’t date. Please, everyone, remember the truck incident of ‘08.

mel_pond posted:

that was so embarrassing. i was ashamed of us all.

“What happened in ‘08?” Clara asks him curiously, trying to ignore the doorknob digging into her lower back.

“He said something about his car but the fans didn’t realize the context,” Jack explains, sniggering. “They thought he had a girlfriend and went wild until an interviewer finally asked him about the remark. He laughed in the poor guy’s face.”

She stifles her own giggling, picturing the scenario perfectly; the door suddenly swings open behind them, and she crooks her neck to find Danny standing there, looking absolutely baffled at what he’s just wandered into.

“I need the mop,” he says blankly, caught off-guard.

Jack reaches around Clara’s shoulder and grabs the handle, thrusting it towards him, saying nothing.

“Erm,” Danny says. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Clara replies for him, offering a nice smile.

“Actually, no, hang on,” Danny says, snapping out of it. “What the fuck are you two doing in here?”

“Working,” they answer in unison. Danny stares at them for another ten seconds before shrugging helplessly and stalking off, muttering to himself. Jack rolls his eyes.

“God, remember when you were fucking him?” He says. “That was so boring. That was the most boring period of my own life.”

“Jesus,” Clara says, and hands Jack his mobile. “I’m leaving.”

“Yeah,” he calls as she heads over to the bar. “Get back to work, you fucking slacker.”

She flips him the bird behind her back, painting on a smile for a customer.

He convinces her to come down to London the weekend after her interview, as she isn’t working and he can ‘help take her mind off things,’ which she knows to mean ‘fuck her until she forgets about them.’ Plus, the album’s almost done and it’ll spare him a trip to Blackpool; he loves to drive, but his sense of direction’s terrible, and, well, she worries.

The interview itself goes exceedingly well; Clara’s more knowledgeable than expected, Ashley admits, though Clara chalks some of that up to having been in the studio so often during recent weeks.

“Even so,” Ashley says, “proves you’re a quick learner, doesn’t it?”

It turns out her last assistant had been fine as far as his actual work had gone, but no drive; it wasn’t a characteristic she’d admired and she decided to search for a fresh ear, so Shona’s call had come at a convenient time. All in all, Ashley’s not working on anything too high-profile at the moment, so it’d be a great period of entry for Clara if she decides she’s interested.

“I’ll make you a formal offer early next week,” she says, shaking Clara’s hand as they say their goodbyes. “Don’t let me down.”

She drafts her two week’s notice on the train ride down the next day, and then spends the rest of the trip watching videos of the two of them on her phone, scrolling through pictures; one in particular of him has her biting her lip - he’s standing in his living room with his guitar strung over his shoulder, glasses on, shirtless, the band of his Calvin Klein boxer-briefs poking out from his under jeans, which are hanging low on his hips - it’s so hot it should be classified as porn. She knows exactly what kind of weekend this is going to be.

She texts him, Start thinking of everything you’d like to do to me once i get there, and then i’ll decide if you get to do them.

He answers her almost instantly. been imagining that since last night, princess.

She scowls at her screen. Don’t fuckin call me that.

you’re not the boss of me.

We both know that isn’t true.

She knows he’s just trying to rile her up, but it works anyway. She crosses her legs, annoyed with herself for getting into a state so quickly. Well. That’s what she gets for having an unbelievably attractive rockstar for a boyfriend.

It’s early evening when she enters his building through the back alley, careful not to be seen; she unlocks the door with her and finds him sprawled across his couch in dark grey sweats with his mobile in his hand, flicking up the screen. He sits up when he sees her, grinning broadly, and her heart stops in her chest. God, damn it, he’s so fucking hot and she’s been fantasizing about this for hours.

She tosses her bag next to the door and strides towards him, and the look on her face is desperate, hollow, hungry. He knows that expression, knows the gnawing ache of it, the want; she drops to her knees in front of him, tongue darting out to wet her lips, and--

“Fuck,” he breathes out as she scratches her nails down his sides to his hips, hooking her fingers underneath the waistband of his sweatpants and dragging them down. He’s already almost hard, his cock throbbing at the sight; she smirks, fingers wrapping around the shaft, and he’s digging his nails into his palms so hard he’s sure he’ll leave marks. “Nice to see you too.”

Her smirk widens; she says against the tip of his cock, “I think sucking you off is a fantastic greeting,” and then she takes him into her mouth, tongue running along the underside, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck,” he repeats, not wanting to look away but knowing it’ll be over way too quickly if he doesn’t; feeling her lips around his cock is one thing, but actually seeing her on her knees with her head between his legs does something else to him entirely. “Fuck, Clara.”

She hums in response, and the vibration has his hands clenching around the cushions in order to stop himself from curlings his fingers in her hair; he’s still fucking respectful, for Christ’s sake, and the two of them are so addicted to power play that he’s sure she’d stop immediately if he even touched the back of her head. She’s on her knees but she’s the one in control.

She hums again, trying to get his attention; he opens his eyes and she meets his stare dead on before taking him fully in her mouth, the tip of his cock touching the back of her throat, her head bobbing, and he--

“I’m fucking,” he tries to say, but he can’t get the words out. “Clara.”

She gets the implication but she doesn’t falter, and he involuntarily pumps his hips, unable to stop--

He cums and she doesn’t even blink, grinning up at him with her eyes as he groans, tongue still massaging his cock while she swallows; he wants nothing more than to pull her onto his lap and watch her ride him, but he can barely think anymore, let alone move.

“You’ve ruined me,” he says thickly, eyes shut. “Fucking hell, Clara.”

Her hand presses flat against his cheek and her lips catch his, kissing him roughly and open-mouthed; their tongues brush and he tastes the saltiness of himself, a moan echoing low in his throat.

She pulls away, smirking, and runs a finger hotly across her bottom lip; his cock twitches, still half-hard, blood pounding in his ears. She says airily, “I could use a shower,” and saunters towards the bathroom without sparing him a glance back.

He follows her the second he regains control of his body, wondering how he even made it this long without her.

Eventually she tells him more about her interview, and he gets around to explaining what’s left in the production process; they’re stretched out in bed, naked and exhausted, chatting aimlessly about nothing and everything. He idly counts her bones underneath her skin, admires the fragility of her spine, every ridge so deliberate it’s like she’d sculpted it herself just to entrance him; the sharp edges of her shoulderblades, looking like they could cut but instead gliding. He traces his fingers across her back and she hums contentedly, burrowing further into his pillow.

His hand slips lower, ghosting over her ass, dipping between her legs; he finds her still slick and she sighs out his name, a low burn growing in the pit of her stomach. He strokes her slowly, gently, building her up in a way that coats his fingers and has her trembling, pillow grasped tightly in her hands, entire body tense with pleasure.

“Being away from you like this,” he murmurs, “just makes me want you.”

She moans quietly, unable to respond, on the verge of unraveling; he pulls his fingers away, palming her ass, and she breathes heavily, shaking. “No,” she manages, protesting. “Don’t stop.”

He lays back beside her, and the movement forces her eyes open, trying to see what game he’s playing. He says lowly, “On top,” and she almost cums from the order alone.

“Fuck you,” she says, but she obeys; she pushes herself onto her knees and straddles his waist, guiding his cock inside of her and sinking onto it in one smooth, erotic motion - she’s so wet there’s no resistance - and he grins victoriously in a way he knows pisses her off, but she doesn’t have the willpower to fight him on this and so she doesn’t. She places her hands flat against his chest and grinds down onto his cock, her cunt tight and hot, her head thrown back and her lips parted.

There’s something oddly serene and untouchably, darkly sensual about the moment; the moonlight spills through his curtains, painting her in pale blue light at different intervals, and her voice is the only sound he hears, breathy moans patterned between his name, rising and falling on top of him, her nails digging into his chest.

It doesn’t take her long to cum, but he commands quietly, “Don’t stop until I say.”

“Oh my God,” she exhales, but continues moving, her eyes still shut tight; it’s so good but it’s so much, and he wants to see how far he can push her, how many times he can make her cum, how long. His fingertips grip her hips firmly, and he shifts up slightly, helping guide her, and her hands find the headboard and hold on, breath still spare in her lungs.

By the time he’s on the edge of his orgasm, thick and throbbing inside of her, she’s almost crying at the pleasure of it, her moans louder, less cautious, uncaring. He feels her about to cum again and he thrusts into her, pressing down on her hips until she’s tight against him, and cums, gasping, filling her.

Her entire body sinks into him, shuddering intensely; her arms fall to around his neck as she tries desperately to catch her breath, strung out, cunt still pulsing around his cock. He holds her to him, letting her ride it out, and catches her mouth and kisses her, fingers tangling in her hair.

“Fuck,” she whispers against his lips. “Fuck. That was - fuck.”

“Too much?” He asks, almost teasingly, because he knows it wasn’t.

“Fuck,” she repeats, still struggling. “No. God. That was the hottest fuck I’ve ever had.”

He makes a move to pull out of her as he softens, but she stops him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“Not yet,” she says tiredly, and adjusts slightly so one of her legs is thrown around his hip. “Give me a minute.”

Neither of them have ever put much stock in the connection of sex, but it’s only now in the quiet, two a.m. daze of a Saturday night that he recognizes the true intimacy of it all, the vulnerability of her dozing off on top of him, the comfort of their bodies together. Maybe there are some things, he thinks, that he doesn’t need the rest of the world to know about, even in music.

They fuck all weekend, which is exactly what she assumed was going to happen, and exactly his intention all along, anyway.

They just can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other, or their lips, though sometimes they use their mouths for other things - fake-fighting, for one, which is essentially their foreplay; they boss each other around until one of them can’t take it anymore and they end up fucking against whatever surface is nearest.

They leave his flat twice for food, stretching their legs, heavily covered up; he’s not recognized by anyone who can do any real damage, and they make it out mostly unscathed.

The only unfortunate moment occurs because of Jack; it’s always fucking Jack. He calls her twice but the Doctor has her bent over the bathroom sink and she’s sure as fuck not going to pick up until he texts her urgent, and the Doctor says cruelly, “Answer the phone,” stilling his hips.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she breathes out, furious; he slips his hand around the front of her body and finds her clit, stroking lightly, staring at her in the mirror the entire time he does so. Jack rings her again.

“What is it?” She asks, trying to keep her voice steady; she bites her lip hard.

“I have a date tonight,” he says. “I need fashion advice.”

She grits her teeth; the Doctor moves again, pumping in and out of her at a painfully slow pace. “For the record,” she says, wavering, “this is not urgent, and I’m hanging up.” She tries to hold in a gasp and fails.

Jack’s silent for a split second, and then starts laughing hysterically. “Holy shit,” he says, “are you fu--”

She ends the call, because no way in hell was she about to answer that question, anyway.

By the time she’s due to head home Monday morning, she feels like she needs another weekend just to recuperate from this one. He snickers but kisses her sweetly before he heads to the studio, because despite their mutual attraction to rough sex, he really is obsessed with her.

“Love you madly,” he tells her as he leaves, flipping his hood up.

“Might want to hide your neck,” she replies helpfully, laughing as he curses. “Love you deeply.”

He jokingly sings Truly Madly Deeply as the door shuts, and she continues packing her bag with a smile on her face.

Love. If it ever had a tangible definition, she’s sure the two of them would be it.

Only one picture of the two of them surfaces, and it’s a fan’s picture, taken at quite a distance, revealing next to nothing. There’s minimal discussion and it flies right under the radar.

crymeariver poster:

oi are we positive she’s jack’s bird? she’s in that pic from yesterday w just the doctor.

amanda_in_space posted:

yuuup jack’s in london with them, i think they popped out for tea. remember jacks a good mate of his so im sure theyre mates too by now.

crymeariver posted:

fair enough. honestly kinda disappointing. she’s lush, i know she’s young but they look good together. i wasn’t against john and river either. pity.

GallifreyingAtTheSeams posted:

I actually agree lol...but also hands off!! He’s mine lol

He’s back in Blackpool mostly for good by the middle of the first week of April, which is great, she says, because maybe they can stop fucking like the world is ending and actually get something done for a change. He grins and presses his lips to the top of her head. Let it be, let it be.

Ashley’s offer comes through, and Clara accepts immediately; it pays a little more and she’ll be getting to do what she actually wants to do, which is really the draw of it. Her boss is slightly upset that she’s leaving, but she’d actually only ever taken the job as a favour, anyway; they’d been severely understaffed one holiday season and she’d stepped in in lieu of nothing else to do, and they’d kept her on.

Jack still has a bit of time working there - he’s only ever been a temp, so as disappointed as he is about her leaving, it also doesn’t affect him too greatly and he’s happy for her, regardless - but the first shift he has with her after her weekend, he corners by the back door, a shit-eating grin stuck on his face like the expression has been glued there.

He says, “I cannot believe you answered the phone while you were fucking him.”

She sighs loudly, pressing her palm to her forehead. “If you text me urgent again when it’s not urgent, I will block your fucking number.”

“Nice hickey,” he says.

“Cheers.”

He can’t hold back for long. “I bet you guys have the hottest sex,” he says. “You know what? I’m actually kind of jealous.”

“I’m sure you can find someone to have a proper shag with too, Jack,” she answers mildly while he daydreams, checking her emails.

“I haven’t had sex in two months,” he says seriously.

She rolls her eyes, moving on to her unread texts; two from the Doctor, one from her dad. “You had sex two days ago.”

“Days, months, it’s all relative.”

“Jesus,” she says, sending Love you too to the Doctor. “Well, if you want to live vicariously through us, please don’t.”

Her mobile buzzes; that’s nice, sweetheart, but didn’t answer my question.

“Christ,” she says. “Hang on.” She types back, Sorry, wrong person, sentiment standing. Yes, sounds good, meet you at quarter to seven.

Jack waits for her to finish her text and then says, “It’s, like, out of this world hot though, isn’t it. I know what kind of kinky shit you’re into, so I can only imagine.”

She smiles against her will. “It’s mind-blowing,” she admits, “and that’s all you’re gonna get from me.”

“Nice,” he says, and high-fives her. “Now, can we get back to talking about me? I have another date on Thursday.”

She texts the Doctor Love you too, making absolutely certain it’s him, as Jack hammers on about the boy he’s seeing in the background.

She meets her dad at his local for chips and a pint with his girlfriend, because she’d at last agreed to meet the woman. Linda’s the embodiment of what a future stepmother (Clara resigns herself to this likely fate early) shouldn’t be but always is; nice enough if a tad judgmental, cynical, and accidentally, but constantly, condescending.

“Am I ever going to meet this bloke?” Her dad asks again, after she mentions my boyfriend very briefly to Linda. “Clearly it’s serious, considering the mistaken message I received earlier.”

Linda says (condescendingly), “Oh, boys at her age are so immature; perhaps she’s worried he’ll make a bad impression and we won’t approve.”

Because that is totally and completely wrong, Clara decides that a bit of one-upping and passive-aggressive superiority is in order. She forces a smile and says, “Actually, the reason you haven’t met him and the reason he isn’t here today is because he’s famous.”

They’re both stunned into silence, and she feels a stab of satisfaction. What use is having a celebrity for a boyfriend if she can’t even stick it to somebody once in awhile? She knows he’d approve, anyway, so the guilt is nonexistent.

Dave recovers first. “Famous? Properly? You’re not putting us on?”

“Why do you think I’ve never even mentioned his name?” Clara points out reasonably, convincingly.

“What celebrities live here?” Is Linda’s question, as though she’s outraged she isn’t dating one herself.

This is where being an excellent repurposer of the truth comes in handy. “He lives in London, mostly,” she says. “It was a coincidence that we met.”

“Blimey,” her dad says, and then side-eyes her. “Why can’t you tell anyone? Is he ashamed of you?”

Linda gives her a similar look, and Clara gets the sense that she’ll be severely disappointed if they can’t turn this into something negative. “No,” Clara says. “He doesn’t want me scrutinized by the media. Which I’d also rather avoid, thanks very much.”

Her father raises his eyebrows, conceding. “Fair enough. Can you at least tell us what he does?”

“Actor?” Asks Linda. “Musician? Royalty?”

“Not royalty,” Clara answers, “and that’s all I’m prepared to tell you.”

“I’m your father,” Dave says, as if that gives him authority over who she dates at this point in her life.

She takes one last gulp of her cider, finishing it off, and says, “And I’m perfectly old enough to decide what I’d like to reveal about my own romantic life.” She forces a smile toward the two of them. “Linda, it’s been lovely, but as I’d told Dave, I do have somewhere to be at half past eight.”

She stands, kissing her dad on the cheek and gripping Linda’s hand in her own, beaming down at her as though it truly has been a pleasure (which it hasn’t) before leaving the pub. She waits until she’s out on the pavement, the last bit of sunset peeking through the clouds and fluttering down around her, before she starts to laugh and doesn’t stop.

The Doctor grins at the retelling, standing in the kitchen digging through a carton of chicken fried rice, her eating a bite of a dumpling in between sentences. The TV plays mutely in the background from the other room, unable to hold their attention nearly as well as they can hold each other’s. He says, sniggering, “What is my celebrity status good for if not to dangle over the heads of others?”

“Exactly,” she agrees, playful glint in her eye. “Why else do you think I keep you around?”

“Money, obviously.”

“Right, that too.” She sets her food down, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Speaking of money--”

“Here it comes--”

“--your birthday is next week.”

He groans. “I was hoping you’d forgot. I hate birthdays.”

“You love my birthday,” she points out, raising an eyebrow like a challenge of the memory.

“The older you get, the less likely I’m going to be crucified,” he says, smirking. “Despite the fact that we look exactly the same age.”

She smacks his arm lightly, snickering; he catches her hand in his and pulls her into him, arms settling around her waist. “Shut up. We do not.”

“I think I see a grey hair,” he tells her seriously, staring at the top of her head.

“Fucking Aries,” she snorts. “I’m dumping you.”

“How Sagittarius of you. The minute your patience wears thin...”

She reaches up, squeezing his face in her hands. “Focus,” she says. “What do you want for your birthday?”

“You, underneath me,” he tries to say, but the way the sound is muffled by her palms only serves to make her laugh. “Or, novel idea, bear with me - a new girlfriend.”

“You’re so difficult.” Her grip relaxes; she taps her fingers against his cheek, rolling her eyes. “Really.”

“You’re the one who said you were breaking up with me,” he says, but leans down and presses his lips to her forehead. “It’s a rollercoaster, this conversation.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

He finally surrenders to her, the same things he’s been doing all along. “I’ve everything I need right here,” he says, and kisses her, and she doesn’t have the will to push him anymore after that.

She gets him a set of beautiful custom-made guitar picks - four are galaxy-themed, gorgeous prints of the cosmos, and the other two are industrial, saying You tune me on and Pluck off respectively - and a white t-shirt with the words GIRLS INVENTED PUNK ROCK NOT ENGLAND printed in black on the front, which he loves.

“Absolutely true,” he says, holding it up. “Punk rock came from a mindset. Kim Gordon’s a smart woman.”

But unlike her birthday, they decide to go out; they’re less risk-averse than they were, and they’re bored, mainly. Hiding out at home just doesn’t carry the same weight it used to; they’ve been doing this for almost seven months already. Secrets are fun until they’re not.

They walk down to the local, meeting Jack, Donna, and River, who is randomly in town - nothing like a little trip to Pleasure Beach, she says with a heavy innuendo and a wink - and for the first time, sitting together, laughing, drinking, talking, Clara finally feels like she belongs with them. Donna doesn’t give her a single dirty look, and River opens up to her about her travels, her life, her relationships--

“John and I still see each other, once in awhile,” she reveals casually, with a shrug that says what can you do. “It’s true that the publicity was too much for him - he felt he got too big, in a way. There’s a reason he writes under the penname Eleven. He doesn’t like implications that come with notoriety.”

“Fair enough,” Clara concedes. “But you still meet up?”

“Well, we didn’t fall out of love, did we?” She says. “We simply decided that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to live our lives apart, and cross paths where we may.”

Clara doesn’t need to say it, doesn’t need to reply about the sounds of loneliness, the emptiness of space, of a barren, hollow touch. River’s hands measure distance in words, sentences, paragraphs folding over city lines, highland hills, oceans; she moves the way she drums, always steady, beating, searching, waiting. Clara won’t mention the longing, the desperate ache that comes with loss. River’s words are true but her eyes forgive the pity in Clara’s.

Across the table, Donna slips the Doctor a CD with Deep Breath written in sharpie across the case.

“Happy birthday,” she says, grinning. “Honestly, I think you’ve done it this time, mate. All of you. This is bloody brilliant, it is.”

“Well, I think we all know who to thank for that,” Jack drawls, winking at Clara.

River clears her throat. “Me, obviously,” she replies, smiling with all of her teeth. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a genius.”

They get back to his flat, four drinks in, his eyes hungrily scouring her body. She lifts her hand to his neck, nails trailing down, pressing her thumb against his pulse, throbbing under his fingers. She says quietly, “That first thing you asked for.”

He hums low in his throat, tips of his fingers melding to her hips, dragging her closer. “Yes?”

“You still want it?”

“Are you gonna make me say it?”

She smirks evenly. The room sheathes itself in shadow, in things only they’re allowed to see. “Yes.”

“Yes,” he breathes out, mouth hovering impatiently above her own. “I want you.”

“Where?” She murmurs, teasing him; she can feel him hard against her in his jeans. “Complete sentences, please. I have a literature degree.”

The noise that comes out of his throat is frustrated, sexy; he knows the game she’s playing, the same game they’re always playing. Someone has to be in control. Someone has to call the shots. It’s his birthday but she wants it to be her.

The twist of his mouth turns arrogant, cruel, hot. He can see the flash of her eyes, her understanding of the shift occurring, the imbalance.

“No,” he says, and her eyebrows raise, defiant and unmistakably turned on.

“No?” She repeats cooly, her nails sharp against his pulse point.

There’s a benefit to being bigger and taller than her, and he extorts it by backing her up against the wall, forcibly but non-threateningly, which is really the core of how they work; they’d never make the other do something they weren’t comfortable doing. They’re far enough along that they know their boundaries.

She swallows, looking up at him, one hand gripping a fistful of his shirt and the other tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pretending like she’s not waiting what to be told next.

“No,” he says again, slipping his thigh between her legs. She doesn’t change her expression, but he feels her grind down slightly against him, and he knows how turned on she is, know how wet she’ll be when he touches her. “Turn around. Hands against the wall.”

“Fuck,” she says, hating being told what to do but simultaneously finding it extremely hot. Her fingers spread, bracing herself. “Fuck you.”

One hand holds firm around her hip, and she can feel him undoing his jeans with the other; his mouth is suddenly at the shell of her ear and he murmurs, that stupid fucking smirk in his voice, “It’s what you’re about to do, darling.”

“No matter what happens,” Clara tells him later on, after they’ve worn each other out in bed and the sentimentality has its way of crawling through, “I don’t want to be like River and John. I want to live my life with you, not around you. Not by chance encounter.”

He only says, his arm curled around her waist and his stomach pressed against her back, “My sense of direction is terrible, so that’s definitely not an option.”

Her last day at work is boring. Her boss gets her a sticky toffee pudding while Danny looks on, heartbroken. Jesus Christ. She’ll never admit it to his face, but Jack had been right about him all along.

Jack rings her mobile a few nights after that, dead in the middle of April, chattering excitedly into her ear.

“Ten and Rose are back from uni in a week,” he says. “We should have a get-together.”

“They’re done with exams already?” Clara asks, surprised. The Doctor looks over at her from the other end of the couch. “Or are they going back for them?”

“Rose didn’t have any this term - but Ten’s aren’t until the first week of May, so they’re stopping by to see her family.”

“Oh, excellent,” she says. “So who do you want to invite?”

“Martha’s in town, and I think Rose wants to see Mickey.”

“And where do you want to host this many people?” She says, thinking about the last time they tried to fit even five people in her flat - disastrous. “I’m not sacrificing another piece of equipment to Ten; he absolutely destroyed my sound system trying to up the frequency of the bass last time.”

“To be fair, that thing was a piece of shit. He did you a favour.”

She grimaces. He’s not wrong. “So?”

“At the Doctor’s, obviously. That’s why I called.”

“You rang me,” she points out, flipping a page of the book she’s reading. “Ring him.”

He grows impatient. “He sucks at answering his phone - when I’m the one calling, at least - and you’re with him, aren’t you? Just ask him.”

She rolls her eyes, but obliges, sliding the phone away from her mouth. “Jack wants to have friends over here next weekend.”

The Doctor continues scrolling through the channels, unaffected. “Why?”

“Neither of our places are big enough.”

It’s a satisfactory answer. He shrugs. “Sure.”

She gets back on the phone. “Sure. What time?”

“Seven, on Friday.”

“Great. Now leave us alone,” she tells him, hanging up without waiting for a response. The guilt over the rudeness eats lightly at her afterward, though, so she texts him, Sorry, first day at the new job tomorrow, little on edge.

He answers understandingly, ur gonna do great, kid. luv ya with a bunch of heart emojis.

She shuts her book and curls into the Doctor’s side as he puts on Pointless, scoffing at the dumbass who offered The Yardbirds as a pointless answer for 1960’s British Invasion - twenty-two people wrote it down - and closes her eyes, trying, for once, to be dreamless.

Like most first days go, it’s not nearly as bad as she expects it to be. In fact, she finds with a swell of surprise, she loves it. She gets the tour and observes, memorizing as much as she can, and gradually throughout the week they allow her more involvement.

She’s mostly shadowing Ashley and another producer named Alice O’Donnell, who specialises in hip-hop and R&B, as they go through the daily motions of working with artists in the studio; Ashley in particular is working with a soul singer named Maisie Pitts, who looks like she could be straight out of the twenties, voice to match. Ashley has Clara offer up suggestions a few times, just as a practice to see how closely they’d align with her own comments, and she gets it on the mark more than once.

“You’re rather well-trained in pitch, aren’t you?” She asks after the third time Clara’s done this. “A lot of early audio engineers and assistant producers will start with tempo and flow and work from there, but you start backwards, with tone and pitch adjustments, even if they’re not technically wrong. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just more advanced.”

“And lyrics,” Clara admits. “I’ve taken more than one songwriting class. My mum always said if you don’t start with the true notes and words, the real music can’t come out no matter what you do to it. Flow and tempo are easy fixes.”

“She sounds like a wise woman,” Ashley says.

“She was.” Clara smiles fondly. Ashley picks up on the implication and mirrors the smile back to her.

“Vocal focus now, Maisie,” Ashley says, holding down the button that enables them to communicate with her. “Clara’s going to come in and switch out the mics.”

“Large condenser?” Clara asks, already standing up.

“That’s the ticket.”

“Alright.” Clara opens the booth door, offering a grin to the woman taking a sip of water between takes. “Hey, Maisie. You sound great.”

She smiles sincerely. “Thanks so much. It’s my first EP, so I’m a tad nervous.”

“Well, it’s my first week, so I understand that,” Clara replies, hauling over the stand for the new mic.

“You’re doing excellently, too, then,” Maisie jokes, and Clara actually laughs.

“I’d like to think.” She lays out the cords carefully on the floor, making sure they’re not waiting to trip Maisie up while she sings. “Can I guess your inspirations?”

“Go on,” Maisie says, seeming pleased at the attention to detail.

“Ella Fitzgerald,” she starts. “Sarah Vaughan, Peggy Lee. Billie. And I’d definitely say Anita O’Day as the big one.”

Maisie grin splits wide. “Truly? You’ve picked up on all that?”

“Of course,” Clara says, stepping back and adjusting the actual mic, speaking into it as a test. “You’ve a beautiful voice - smoky, dynamic--” Ashley gives her a thumbs-up from the studio, and Clara nods, “--smooth. Brilliant.”

“Thank you,” Maisie says earnestly as Clara walks out, throwing a wink over her shoulder.

“From the top,” Ashley says when Clara’s seated again, her smile approving, Maisie giving it all she’s got on the other side of the glass.

Friday, the end of her first week, is when she finally sees her friends again.

She actually meets them outside her own flat, because they don’t know that she’s dating the Doctor and she’d like to keep it that way - she imagines Rose’s gloating, the comments, suggestive prods and pokes - and even though Clara know she’d be supportive, she’s not ready. Jack understands and doesn’t press her on it, nor does the Doctor, who probably wouldn’t care one way or another at this point.

She’s waiting outside the gate when she hears loud footsteps approaching; she starts to turn her head and someone comes crashing into her side, squealing; she recognizes Rose immediately, and the two of them clutch each other for five minutes, overwhelmed and excited. Ten and Mickey are first behind her, grinning at the sight, followed by Jack and Martha, chatting.

“Rose!” She exclaims, finally pulling back and gazing the girl. “God, look at you, lovely as ever. Lovelier, in fact. Oh, I adore you.”

“I could say the same about you!” Rose chimes, holding her hands and examining her head to toe. “I swear, if I didn’t have a boyfriend…”

Ten leans in and hugs her as well. “Ta, Rose, appreciate that, but can’t say I don’t understand the reasoning.”

Clara laughs, only realizing at this exact moment how much she’d missed the two of them. “Ten, always a pleasure.”

“Cheers, darling.”

Jack flicks her on the forehead in lieu of a hug. “I see you constantly,” he says. “You’ve gotten old.”

Martha comes round Jack’s other side, rolling her eyes at him as she and Clara kiss each other on the cheek. “He’s as American as ever. Hi, Clara, wonderful to see you again.”

Mickey wraps her in a huge hug, and then Jack offers, “Shall we?” And starts to steer them along like cattle. Rose clutches onto her arm and tells her all about her modules, their year, where they’ve traveled and what they’ve seen, Ten chiming in occasionally to correct or add a detail. It’s a quick walk down the road, the evening air warm enough that they don’t need jumpers or coats just yet, and for once, it’s not raining. All the signs are there. It’s a good night.

They get to his flat and Rose whispers, “I can’t believe we’re going to the Doctor’s flat. He’s legendary! How did Jack manage this?”

Clara shoots her a somewhat quizzical look. “Oh, he’s here,” Clara says.

Mickey, overhearing, says, “I’m sorry?”

“He’s home,” she repeats. “He’s not lending Jack his flat unsupervised.”

“Oh, sorry,” Jack says, shooting her a look. “I forgot to mention that.”

“We’re spending a night with the Doctor?!” Rose exclaims, and even Martha laughs at her shocked enthusiasm.

“Not in the way you’d like,” Ten says, smirking.

“Oh, shush, you. Don’t have a go. This is exciting!”

Martha says, “Is it weird that I’m nervous, even though I’ve met him loads of times?”

“No, me too,” Mickey agrees. “Well I haven’t met him loads of times, but, you know.”

Jack leads them all up to the door and knocks once before letting himself in; the Doctor’s left it unlocked for them. He spreads his arms wide and says, “Ta-da! The Doctor’s living room. He spends a lot of time in here. Go ahead, phones out, take your pictures.”

A tut comes from the kitchen, and the Doctor steps into view, setting a few ciders on the counter. “I’m right here,” he points out, grinning. “Go on, take a photo of me. Sell it to the tabloids, that’s much better than some furniture I sit on.”

“And the man himself,” Jack says, again extending his arms like it’s a show he’s putting on. “You heard him. This is your opportunity to exploit fame and riches.”

Jack claps his arm in a greeting, sliding by him to where he knows his alcohol cabinet is. “You remember Clara,” he says over his shoulder.

“Of course,” he says, his eyes wicked, and this is sure going to be a harder night to get through than she’d previously imagined. “Clara, it’s lovely to see you again. Been awhile.”

She smiles charmingly. “Thanks so much for letting us crash your flat,” she answers, sickeningly agreeable. “We were gonna do it at mine, but I simply don’t have the room.”

“It’s no problem,” he says. “I’m hospitable, if nothing else.”

“Clara!” Jack calls. “Could use your help!”

She steps to the side, and Rose has an expression on as if Christmas morning has been wrapped up into a person and set right in front of her; Mickey sort of looks like his face is melting. Ten’s the only one that manages to control himself. “Doctor, this is Rose, Mickey, and Ten, Rose’s boyfriend,” she introduces them in turn.

He greets them all nicely, turning to Martha, and Rose breathes out, seemingly on accident, “Clara, come on, you didn’t have to tell him that.”

Clara coughs once, trying to restrain an inappropriate laugh. Well, at least she’s validated in her desire of him; Rose is two years younger than she is. She forgets what it was like to be a guest in his life. Ten says, “I’m feeling rather unwanted. Should I leave you two alone together?”

Rose shakes out of it slightly, laughing at her silliness. “Sorry, sorry. Being so close to greatness affects me.”

Jack calls for Clara again; she sighs. “Be right back. Make yourselves comfortable.”

She finds him with two beers in each hand, and an open liquor cabinet in front of him. He says, “I had to snap you out of it. You were on the verge of flirting.”

“We were not,” she responds exasperatedly, taking two of the beers from him. He reaches for the whisky, and then follows her back to the kitchen; bottles clatter on the countertop.

“Drinks?” He calls out. “There’s beer, cider, every kind of liquor imaginable--”

They shout out their requests from where they’re sprawled comfortably now about the living room, and the Doctor comes over, shooing Jack away. “It’s fine,” he says good-naturedly. “You’re guests tonight.”

“Oh, but not me?” Clara raises an eyebrow. “What am I, then?”

“Hot,” he says under his breath, grabbing the whisky. “It’s torture. I need to drink to forget about it.”

She laughs, but helps him gather the glasses and mixers; Ten wants an Old Fashioned, which is somehow so him, and Rose and Mickey just take beers, which is also so them. Martha opts for a whisky sour, and because Jack isn’t an ass, he also sticks with whisky, taking a Highball.

The Doctor’s spent a lot of time mixing his own drinks, and Clara literally used to bartend, so they’ve no problem pulling together the requests; he actually has fun with it, which Clara thinks is strangely cute, because he’s never really hosted a ton of people in his flat. She hands them around and then sits on the sofa that’s essentially become her second home, stretching out casually. Rose is telling some story about Croatia, and Ten almost falling into the harbour, when Clara catches the Doctor walking by with his glasses now on and a book in his hand.

“What are you doing?” She asks pointedly, and everyone stops.

Jack catches hold of the situation quickly and jumps in, not wanting her to betray herself. “Yeah, c’mon, man. Live a little,” he says. “Hang out with us. Kick back with your mates.”

“I will if you never say that again,” the Doctor responds, and Rose laughs loudly; even Martha manages a giggle.

“Hear, hear,” Rose says as the Doctor comes and takes a seat at the other end of the couch. “Anyway--”

She launches into another story, and Clara isn’t allowed to stare but she takes a glance anyway; in the warmth of the room, of company and light and laughter, his face grows softer, genuity along the lines. His defenses lower as he finds himself actively interested and engaged, talking with them, smiling at jokes, being honest around people who aren’t just her. She wonders how long it’s been since he’s felt trust, and familiarity, and family.

Clara’s talking about her new job and he’s staring in that way he’s not supposed to, like he adores her, like he’s addicted to every word out of her mouth, like love itself is in the room with them strung along in the space between their bodies, but they’re all drunk and no one’s paying attention now, anyway, and fuck it all, he’s so happy it’s killing her. He looks like he did on that first night, that first party, laced in champagne and eagerness and innocent embarrassment.

One day, surrounded by this same group of friends, she’ll talk about it. But not now. His eyes gaze at her over the rim of his glasses, his mouth in a tender curl. Not now.

“See?” Clara says knowingly, later, when they’re in the kitchen refilling drinks and murmuring to each other things no one else can hear. “It’s nice to have friends ‘round, isn’t it?”

It’s late by the time they wrap up; half past two in the morning, exceptionally drunk and giggling at everything, even if it isn’t funny. Rose nearly falls asleep on Ten, and they decide it’s their cue to not overstay their welcome by literally crashing there.

“Coming, Clara?” Martha asks, slipping on her coat, and Clara freezes entirely.

She’s taken aback at the invitation because the idea of leaving afterward literally never crossed her mind, like it probably would have if they were just friends. He pauses for the briefest of seconds, but continues; she recovers quickly. “Oh, no, go on,” she says, smiling. “I’m gonna help clean up - I don’t mind. I’m the closest, anyway.”

Martha doesn’t question the response, and neither does anyone else; they wave goodbye and trot out the door, stumbling over each other Jack being the last to leave and throwing them a wink.

“I forgot that’s what people do,” Clara says to the Doctor, loading the dishwasher unsteadily. “You think it looked suspicious?”

“Nah,” he says, focusing very hard on a single glass. “I think you covered pretty well - probably made them feel bad about not staying.”

She grins, and breaks midway for a yawn. He notices and allows the cutlery he’s holding clatter into the sink, uncaring about the mess.

“Fuck it,” he dismisses, rubbing at his eyes with a palm. “We can do it in the morning - let’s just sleep, I’m exhausted, and drunk, and definitely gonna break something.”

“Thank God,” she says, shutting off the water, and she exhaustedly heads into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She swears she almost falls asleep with her toothbrush in her mouth, but he catches her and laughs hysterically before running into the door, and suddenly they’re both awake again, stumbling around and giggling at everything like the universe is one big joke scrambled together for their own amusement.

“I feel bad,” Martha says, wrapping her sweater tighter around her body - it’s transitioned into a cool, damp night. “We should’ve stayed to help.”

“Nah, you’re the guests,” Jack replies, easing her guilt, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. “I don’t think he cared.”

“Clara was a guest,” Mickey counters, “and she stayed.”

Jack’s quick, but not quick enough to hide his smirk from Rose. “Yeah, but she’s a good person, or something like that.”

Rose repeats slowly, locking eyes with Jack, “Or something like that.”

Shit; she picked up on it, of course she fucking did. Actually, he’s amazed that none of the others had, considering the way the two of them were fucking staring at each other all night. He’s got to give them a lesson in subtlety. “Shut up, Rose.”

Martha says, “What?”

Rose leans in to Ten, grinning widely. He wraps an arm around her. “I’ve known Clara for years, Jack,” she reminds him. “You think I can’t tell?”

“I’m not doing this,” Jack rejects. “Clara’s totally fine.”

“Doing what?” Mickey says, exchanging a puzzled look with Martha. Ten remains silent, probably for the first time in his life, but it’s clear he’s also in on the secret; he has that superior expression plastered across his face that drives Mickey insane.

“Oh, I know she’s fine,” Rose answers ominously, eyes wide, “because she’s not actually going home, is she, Jack?”

“Oh, my God,” Martha exclaims. “Are you saying--”

“No fucking way,” Mickey says, voice laced with accidental admiration. “They’re--”

“Everyone, shut the fuck up!” Jack commands, trying to suppress his own smile. In truth, he’s been dying to tell someone for ages. “Rose, I can neither confirm nor deny your suspicions.”

“You just did,” Ten points out, snickering as she ducks out from under his arm. “Shit, Rose, we leave for a few months at a time and look what we miss--”

“They’re, like, together,” she announces victoriously, almost singing, poking Jack in the sides; he smacks her hands away, laughing. “How long has this been going on?”

Jack gives it up; he’s done his best and it wasn’t enough. “I refuse to say anything more.”

“I don’t believe it,” Martha says. “The Doctor? Date anyone?”

He completely gets that perspective. Rose sneaks his phone out of his pocket and stops in the middle of the street, dangling it in front of his face. “Call her,” she says. “I’m gonna prove it, right now. Call her.”

Rose is stubborn to a fault, and Jack knows better when to argue with her - Martha’s the one in disbelief, anyway, so from his perspective, he’s blaming this outing on the Doctor’s inability to hide his affection. “Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes.

He finds Clara’s number in his recent calls and dials, and Rose puts the phone on speaker; Clara answers on the third ring, clearly exasperated.

“What do you want, Jack?” She asks, aiming for grumpy but sounds too cheerful for it. “You literally just left us like fifteen minutes ago.”

He grimaces. Rose raises an eyebrow and Clara’s use of ‘us.’ “How’d cleaning up go? I felt bad about leaving,” he bullshits, putting a finger over his lips.

Her tone softens slightly; she sighs, and he hears her shuffling around. “Oh, we gave up on that,” she says. “We’re gonna do it in the morning. We’re just going to bed.”

Martha’s jaw drops. “No,” she mouths.

“Okay,” Jack responds. “Didn’t mean to bother you guys - just wanted to let you know everyone had a great night.”

“We’re glad to hear it--” She cuts off; they hear the Doctor in the background ask, Hear what? And then Clara’s repetition of their conversation. He says something none of them can decipher and she laughs. “We had fun, too,” she tells Jack.

“No, go back,” Jack says, now grinning. This is their usual dynamic. “What’d he say?”

Clara snickers. “He said it’d have been more fun if it had just been him and I. He’s an ass.” She pauses while the Doctor talks. “What,” they hear her say, “you gonna kick me out?” Another moment of silence. “‘Mistreatment’?” She’s laughing. “Go write a song about it.”

The Doctor distinctly says fuck you in the background and then she’s back on the phone, the smirk apparent in her voice. “Sorry,” she says. “We’re breaking up now because I’m ‘too mean to him’ or something, so I gotta go deal with that.”

She’s clearly joking, and they’re all smiling evenly; even Martha can’t deny how cute they sound. “Okay, go,” Jack waves her off nicely. “Dump his sorry ass. You’re too good for him anyway.”

“See?” Clara gets further from the phone. “I’m not conceited, Jack thinks I’m way too good for you, too. He says I should dump you first--”

The line goes dead; everyone glances around without meeting each other’s eyes too long, like they feel almost bad about intruding on the couple’s intimacy.

“How long has this been going on?” Rose finally breaks the silence; from her perspective, the deceit was totally worth it.

“Like just over six months - I don’t know when they officially started dating, though. I think sometime in the middle of December.” He’d never pried about that one. “But they met at the end of last September.”

“It’s the third week of April,” Ten says. “They started unofficially dating just after they met? That doesn’t sound like Clara.”

Rose is gonna have a field day, he can feel it. “They...hung out, if you know what I mean.”

Mickey snorts. “They were shagging around.” Rose almost guffaws, she’s so ecstatic about this turn of events.

Jack shrugs. “I mean, I knew they’d like each other. I just didn’t know how long it’d take for them to actually admit it. So don’t say anything to them, don’t act like you know, don’t do shit - you wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get them to this point.”

“I would believe it,” Rose says. “Clara has outrageous issues. She’s shite at relationships.”

“So does he,” Jack tells her, ushering them out of the way of an oncoming car and stepping back onto the pavement. “That’s why you can’t say anything. They’ll freak if people know.” He pauses. “How did you know, actually? What gave it away?”

“Yeah,” Martha chimes in, affronted. “I like to think I’m pretty observant, and I had no idea.”

“It’s probably because you see them a lot more often,” Ten explains. “So their natural progression didn’t stand out to you. But we haven’t seen Clara since last year - honestly, I don’t remember ever seeing her this happy.”

“But I didn’t notice nothing, either,” Mickey says, put-out.

“Well you’re a moron,” Jack replies, “so no surprises there.”

“It was a few things.” Ten breaks up a fight before it starts. “Clara kept her arms crossed every time she was near him, like she was actively trying to stop herself from touching him, and the way he smiled at her was the only genuine smile I saw him give all night. It had more of an edge to the rest of us.”

“Wow,” Rose says, impressed. “I just felt a vibe. And I saw them whispering in the kitchen when they were getting drinks, and it just looked - I dunno. Too natural, I guess. Like, you can obviously tell they spend a lot of time together.”

“They do.” Jack’s grinning to himself, quietly in a way. He’s worked hard. “It’s sickening.”

He doesn’t mean that at all.

#doctor who fic #twelveclara #whouffaldi #UM I LOVE YALL ON TWITTER??? HIIIIII UR INSPIRATIONS TO ME

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