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mlwritersguild · 1 year

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The Ballad of You and Me, by @gaussiansphere

Based on a prompt submitted by @their-destinys-writer: Kagaminette Biker AU, Marinette is the Biker.

AO3; 1960s AU, Rock Band AU, Bikers AU, Implied/Referenced Murder

Summary:

After meeting a mysterious woman at one of her band's gigs, Kagami can't make herself look away from what follows.

Fear is obsession is desire is love.

---

Kagami gave the bartender a quick nod and took a breath, slamming her drink back as quickly as possible before breathing out. The music of the club was suffocating—amplified guitar and bass echoing off the walls as the band on stage finished up their set. She motioned for another drink and slipped a small tip under her empty glass, before destroying the second shot as quickly as the first. Shaking her head slightly to clear the worst of the feeling, she opened her eyes to see Luka shaking his in disapproval.

"It's not even ten minutes until we're on, could you really not have waited just a bit longer to destroy your liver?"

"I never perform sober, it's bad form not to bring your best to a performance like this, and I do my best work when I've had the chance to relax..."

Luka was unimpressed, "You really think I'm buying that you can only sing when you're wasted?”

"First, I am not wasted, I am simply tipsy—the difference between the two is significant. Second, it helps me loosen up, which I have only accomplished now, no thanks to you."

He finally turned back with a sigh, "Whatever, as long as you're ready when we come on and the show gets done, I can't stop you. Just try and make this one your last one before the show, please?"

Kagami shrugged, "I'll do my best."

Kagami signaled the bartender for one last shot, which she downed with extreme prejudice before following Luka through the crowd, which even now was filling the whole room. The room wobbled slightly as she went forward, the mass of people pressing in on all sides.

The band on the stage started to wind down their set, as Kagami looked back to the bar, where a rough looking crowd of men was clustering on one side, their leather vests covered in patches. She nudged Luka and tilted her head towards them, “Look at those guys over there, staring down the girl across the bar.” She indicated a darked haired girl wearing a long, brightly-colored shawl “What do you make of them?”

He shrugged, “Eh, it’s bikers, what’s the big deal?” he paused, looking back between the girl and the gang, “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, here’s what I say: Not. Our. Problem. It’s all well and good to help a girl out, but not if that means brawling a dozen Hells Angels to get to her.”

Kagami turned up her nose, “I figured you’d say that. I suppose I’ll just have to ask Fel-” “No,” Luka interrupted, “You are not going to ask Felix for help, no matter how bad this seems. The last thing we need is to get kicked out and handed over to the cops after whatever he does.”

As if on command, their bassist appeared behind them, “I heard my name. I don’t suppose you happen to be talking about those fellows over there…” Kagami picked up on where he was going, “Yes, we actually were. I was wondering if you would be amenable to-” Luka slapped her on the back, interrupting her and sending her stumbling forward.

“We’re good, thanks.” He interjected. Felix shrugged, “If you’re sure, I suppose there’s nothing I can do.” He waited for Luka to momentarily turn to the stage, before he shot Kagami a wink and a sharp smirk. Luka turned back, seemingly sensing the silent message and shot Felix a disapproving look.

As they reached the edge of the stage, Adrien was already tuning his guitar on the sidelines, shooting them a quick smile before going back to his work. Nino, beside him, was anxiously tapping out a quiet rhythm on his drum sticks.

“Look alive ladies,” Felix sauntered up the stairs, grabbing his bass off its stand and sliding its strap over his shoulders, “it’s game time.” Kagami and Luka followed, and as he went ahead, she slipped a small flask from her back pocket and downed it in one go, shaking off the liquor and smiling, “You heard the man, let’s show them what we’ve got.”

As the band took their places up on stage, Kagami looked out through the haze and bright lights to the bar on the far side of the club. The bikers were still there it seems, still seeming to gravitate around the poor woman, but without making much ground in the interim. Meanwhile, the girl at the bar turned from the bikers to her, locking her in place with her deep blue stare, even as the rest of the band began without her.

Closing her eyes, Kagami stepped up to the microphone stand.

---

Drink in hand and her band beside her, Kagami was back at the bar. Luka and Felix were at either side, Luka slowly sipping a gin and tonic while their bassist drank his ‘Cuba libre.’

Luka gestured to Felix’s drink with his own. “You know you can just ask the bartender for a rum and coke, right? It’s the same thing and it doesn’t make you look like a tool when you order it.”

Felix shook his head, “That’s a classic mistake, but just that—the rum and coke are just two simple ingredients shaken together. The Cuba Libre, on the other hand, is a far more sophisticated choice—it has lime. ”

Luka raised his voice in objection as Kagami looked on with half-hidden amusement, before her eyes drifted back to where the blue-eyed girl had been sitting. She had stepped out a few minutes before, still trailed by the bikers, who themselves had barely moved since the band had finished their set—always looming in the shadows, never striking.

She finished her drink and excused herself to her bandmates, who were now all embroiled in the cocktail debate—Adrien and Nino stepping in behind Luka and Felix respectively. She extricated herself from their rapidly closing circle, instead traveling to the door and taking a tentative step outside into the cool evening air.

There, leaning against the club’s brick wall, was the girl from before, smoking a cigarette as she looked out into the night. The streetlights dimly lit the parking lot ahead, where the bikers were clustered as before, staring the two down from afar.

The blue-eyed girl caught Kagami’s eye and smiled, beckoning her over and offering a cigarette. Kagami nodded and accepted it, letting her light it from her own embers.

“You were pretty good up there. It’s always nice to see new acts come up from time to time.”

“Thanks. Are you a regular?”

“Of a sort. Let’s just say I have a vested interest in the success of this club.” she extended her hand, “Marinette, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Kagami, likewise.” she paused, before lowering her voice and leaning in, “Look, I don’t mean to alarm you, but there are some men that I think have been following you. Just wanted to let you know if you hadn’t noticed. If you want help, my friends and I can try and do what we can.”

Marinette chuckled lightly, “You shouldn’t worry about them. They usually don’t cause any trouble unless ordered.”

Kagami raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Making Marinette smile, “Just trust me, if you don’t give them any trouble they won’t give you any. It was nice meeting you, Kagami.” She pulled the shawl off to reveal a leather vest, and fished through its pockets to produce an old receipt, before scribbling something on it.

She slipped it into Kagami’s hand, “I hope this isn’t the last time we meet either,” before turning to walk out to the bikers in the lot, her vest proudly emblazoned:

HELLS ANGELS

CALIFORNIA

---

Luka played a few experimental chords on his guitar, before pausing and playing them again with a slight tweak.

Across from him, Felix was tapping a pen on his notepad impatiently, “I think we should write something about the war, something faster than usual.”

Luka looked up at him and pointedly played another chord sequence, tweaked slightly again but in the same rhythm as before.

Between them, Kagami was sitting at the head of the table, buried in newspapers and ignoring their latest spat. Sensing the two pairs of eyes boring down on her, she looked up, gathered her newspapers, and left the room, carting them up to her bedroom, where she spread them back out over her bed. She had pulled every issue of the paper from the last two years that mentioned the Hells Angels, and she was combing through them all.

Most seemed to be minor crime reports or local coverage, but every now and then an article would pop up with something more significant. A year ago, their clubhouse in Anaheim burned to the ground. Three months later, half the leadership of the chapter were found dead in a booth at their favorite bar, poisoned. The obituaries of the second half were scattered through the pages since—all supposedly accidental or self-inflicted.

One picture in particular caught her eye—a dark haired woman with piercing eyes peering from the margins of a photograph of a club scene. Kagami felt her pulse speed, and she pulled the picture closer. It was almost covered by the crowd, but she could just barely make out the leather vest on Marinette’s chest.

Reaching into her pocket, she drew out the note Marinette had given her—7:00pm, next Saturday night, and the name of a local club.

---

Kagami puffed nervously on her cigarette, looking all around for Marinette to show herself. The Blue Toucan was doing plenty of business that night, as a steady stream of people passed her, coming and going. She caught Felix’s eye as she looked around—he shot her a devilish grin, patted the revolver hanging loosely under his jacket, and winked.

Sometimes she wondered why she agrees to bring him along to things like these. He always claims it's just in case, but from time to time she wonders if he’s just looking for a reason to scrap. It was nice, though, to have a friendly face in the distant crowd. When she mentioned that she was headed to a biker bar that night, Luka had given her such an incredulous look that she was surprised his eyes didn’t tumble out right then.

Kagami had positioned herself just to the left of the entrance, where two burly men in leather were keeping the rowdier folks outside. There, she could look over the whole parking lot at once. It was only belatedly that she realized, as a long nail tapped her on the shoulder, that her date for the night wouldn’t necessarily be coming from outside. She nervously turned to Marinette, who offered her hand and gave a dazzling smile.

“You look good tonight—I’m glad you could make it.” As Kagami took it, Marinette nodded to the men at the door and pulled her inside.

The Blue Toucan looked like it had once been a tiki bar, but that past was long-covered by the current ownership and membership. Bike parts covered the east wall, some slightly charred, others bent out of shape, and more seemingly fine, while the opposite wall, sitting above the bar, was decorated with a mural depicting a stylized pyramid of skulls.

Marinette led Kagami there, where she ordered them both drinks—whiskey and vodka neat. Kagami nodded in appreciation as they watched the bartender make their drinks. “You’re a… fascinating woman, Marinette.”

She smirked a little, “Yeah? What makes you say so?”

“It’s unheard of for a woman to be admitted to the Angels, and yet you’re here.” Marinette nodded, raising an eyebrow, as Kagami continued, “It seems that they’ve had a very chaotic time recently, which might influence such things, no?”

“Perhaps it would. I certainly couldn’t tell you. Things have been peaceful since I’ve arrived.” The bartender came with both their drinks, and Marinette raised hers in a small toast.

“Cheers, Kagami—I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Her heart thundering in her chest, Kagami raised her vodka and clinked it against Marinette’s before she downed half. Marinette took a sip of hers, and then another, as Kagami shook off the vodka’s burn. Taking a larger swig, Marinette rose and walked over to the jukebox in the bar, fiddling with a few of the buttons before returning and taking another drink. Feeling fainter than she looked, Kagami downed the rest of her vodka and looked her in the eye.

“Why’d you do it? Was this really worth it?”

Marinette chuckled, “Probably not to you. This life, like everything around it, is built on respect and efficiency. I did what needed to be done to be respected enough to do efficient business. No one respected me then—they do now.”

“It’s better to rule by fear than by love—the Prince, no?”

“But the wise ruler knows it is best to possess both. Tell me, Kagami, would you like to dance?”

As they rose, the jukebox clicked to a slower song, and Marinette took her hand in hers, placing the other arm on her shoulder. They turned slowly, bobbing in pace with the song as they navigated through the steps of the waltz. Kagami looked into her partner’s blue eyes—enchanting, haunting, and hungry—and felt her heart thundering.

Marinette led them in the dance, their feet gliding across the floor. As they turned, Kagami found herself standing below the pyramid of skulls. She leaned in and Marinette’s lips met hers.

They tasted like salt and iron. When she pulled back, a small trail of red ran from the corner of her mouth.

Kagami feared and loved her.

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nickgerlich · 19 days

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KISS And Make Up

You never forget your first time.I was a freshman at Anderson University, and final exams were starting the next week. In spite of a snow and ice storm, a group of my pals and I threw caution to the wind and loaded into a tiny Chevy Vega. We slid about 50 miles to Indianapolis for a little music. The date was Sunday 11th December 1977.

It was my first concert ever, and headlining the stage that night was KISS, the band that singlehandedly put Max Factor’s kids through college. Their full-face make-up, stage antics, fire-breathing, and thundering music had made them massively popular. We skidded all the way to Indy, but got there early enough to claim our standing spaces down in the seatless mosh pit. I was about 10 feet from the stage.

As a side note, the opening act was an unknown band from Australia, AC/DC. But that’s not the point of this story, even though it was memorable in that I can say I saw them with their original lead singer. The smell of the wacky weed was strong, and one need not actually fire up one to feel the effects.

Scheduling fate would have it that my Old Testament final exam was the next morning. I paid to every deity I could summon, avowing I would never do this again (ahem—that promise did not last very long), and that I would stay up all night studying if only we were granted traveling mercies after the show.

But then I realized I may as well enjoy what was before me. The potential damage was done. I was blown away when guitarist Angus Young hopped on the shoulders of singer Bon Scott, who then made it all the way to the upper deck of Market Square Arena, Angus continuing to riff. They were showing off the latest in wireless technology, something that we could hardly even begin to imagine back then.

And then KISS took the stage, Peter Criss banging those drums, Ace Frehly shredding that guitar, Paul Stanley beseeching us to rock and roll all night and party every day, and Gene Simmons thumping that bass while spewing stage blood.

Yeah, that was quite the visual. It probably helps explain why I have tinnitus today. Well, along with the 100 or more concerts I have gone to since then.

I told you that you never forget your first time. This was more than 46 years ago. Both KISS and AC/DC went on to superb careers, but it is KISS, thanks to the mastermind of Mr. Simmons, who most fully leveraged their rock star status. KISS branded itself on to more than 5000 products through the years, and now comes news that they have sold not just the publishing rights to their music, but the brand and all IP as well.

The price? Only $300 million.To be honest, I think that KISS left a LOT of money on the table, because all other rock stars selling their catalog these days did only that. KISS brings much more to the conversation, including the avatar initiative they announced not long ago, as well as the potential for AI-generated content that will see the band live on to eternity if their new owner so desires.

But still…how many other artists do you think could see their brand leveraged in such ways? Maybe Jimmy Buffett, but I see his brand being used more for resorts and restaurants, not digital products. KISS has been larger than life throughout their storied career; whether fans will flock to consume their product in digital form is all speculation at this point, I suspect that their new owner is planning on a windfall.

More than anything is the clear message that it is not just what someone produces, but also the persona(s) who produced it. Imagine your personal brand being so noteworthy as to fetch millions so that someone could market everything you ever did, but also what you never did. That’s powerful, and in the digital era, anything is possible.

Meanwhile, it is safe to say that the KISS Army lives on, even if Mr. Simmons and company are now officially 100% retired. And I will forever savor the memories I made that night.

Oh, you’re probably wondering about that exam. We got home at 3am, thanks to the treacherous roads. I stayed up the rest of the night studying, confidently marched into that exam at 11am, and aced it. God never fails, and I am grateful to say that neither did I.

Dr “Shout It Out Loud” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #KISS #digital rights #branding

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db-reviews · 2 years

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#117 - Laminated Denim - King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard (2022)

Who can complain about more King Gizz in their lives? A band with such a consistently good discography with works of all varieties. They never leave me bored, and they haven’t now. This is their 2nd studio release this month after their mouthful of a record Ice, Death, Planets, Lungs, Mushrooms, And Lava. In this album, we get a sequel to their once vinyl exclusive I.D.M. album, Made In Timeland, a 30-minute album with two 15-minute songs. Much like that album, we have a 30-minute record with two 15-minute songs, however, they continue their more jammy sound from Omnium Gatherum (specifically in The Dripping Tap) and Ice, Death, Planets, Lungs, Mushrooms, And Lava, combing their psychedelic progressive rock sound, with a bit of a space rock or krautrock tint to their lense. Believe it or not, this is one of the strongest and most masterfully done Gizzard records I have heard so far in their career, strangely enough.

The first of only two songs, The Land Before Timeland, introduce you into this world the band has made up and takes you on a tour through lush guitars, harmonies, drummings, and melodies that wrap you around this rather calm yet still jammy song. What I love most about this is that even with the calm demeanor you can still feel the rising action. As the song progresses things get faster, more chords are introduced, and this jovial sense of wonder gets refined more and more. It doesn’t blow down the doors at the end, but there is a clear sense of movement and change within the music. I just adore the mood this song has. It is so fun and bouncy that it just makes me get into a good mood. This applies to most King Gizzard songs but here is how they capture it and let it ride and rise through this 15-minute jam makes me, in my mind, clap with joy. This is an aspect that I dig with the original Made In Timeland album and while things felt within the same song, you can tell things changed despite the consistency. Here they also do that but even better. It doesn’t even feel like 15 minutes, it is like taking a nice long shower and getting out as if time hadn’t passed at all. It is almost spooky how a good long song does that. What a song, and it isn’t even the only one.

With the rising action of The Land Before Timeland, we jump into Hypertension, which is also fantastic. Here you can fear their energy just pouring, but still retaining the beauty and happiness the last song portrayed. I love King Gizzard due to how no matter what genre they twist and turn to they will always keep the mood up consistently. Never once in their discography, from their garage rock era to their brief ventures in synthpop did I feel their vibes and energy lose their weight. I think here they are capturing that energy into a photograph and stapling it in their photo album because I can just feel it all with this song. Fast-moving guitars, unique drum patterns, eccentric vocals, extremely satisfying bass patterns, and even some keyboards were added in for good measure. Every aspect here plays a role, and the roles they play are so well done that the band can play a game of chess blindfolded and still win. They are just that well performed. That ending too of those choir singing-like synths just raises the bar further and further until it falls apart and we get back into the fun-filled jams until that also falls apart with an immediate release of tension that builds up throughout the record. I'd say that is a great way to end this boisterous record.

Funny how one of the shortest King Gizzard albums turns out to be one of, if not the best albums they have put out. Just two songs and it’s already one of my favorite albums of this year. It is such a fun listen that does not take very long in establishing itself in my brain. It is fast, jovial, and some of the best works the band has put out in this month, if not in this year, if not in their entire careers. I recommend listening to this. Grab a pair of headphones and just let the music wash you away with those groovy grooves and those beautiful arrangements.

5/5

#music review #album review #progressive rock #krautrock #psychedelic rock #jam #king gizzard and the lizard wizard

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writertothemaximum · 2 years

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is it alright if you can make a male reader version of the high!rinne amagi x reader fic? only when you’re ready to write the full thing, of course :]

Note: This pretty much the same as the Rinne/Reader fic posted a while ago, just now with male pronouns, and male uh, parts. A lot of stuff has been reworded, but I hope it does the trick! Thanks for reading!

Rinne Amagi x Male Reader

Summary: You mostly just expected to pick your friend up from a club, the last thing you thought was to get hit on by some wasted guy. Although, he certainly looked familiar…

Word Count: 2k

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045316/chapters/59423728

Warnings are under the cut for containing nsfw/18+ content

Warnings: nsfw/smut (18+), sex under the influence of drugs, bisexual Rinne, sub!Rinne, slut!Rinne, male!reader, fellatio, choking, anal fingering, non-sexual pissing, excessive amounts of cursing

The first thing that hit you when you entered the club was how dark it was. How through all the flashing lights, you couldn’t see a thing. How the wall of heavy bass rang noiselessly back and forth into your head, bouncing to the beat of its own drum. The shaking of the wall of people undulating like a wave, bouncing endlessly like the ocean.

It was 11:30 p.m. already and your friend called you, waking you up, to drive her home. At least it wasn’t 3:00 a.m. like last time. This is why you told her to stop going to raves all the time. It was rotting her brain.

You had waited outside for twenty minutes already, but a part of you felt overwhelmed by everything in front of you. How everything was so dark until the lights flashed, how everything was so quiet because you couldn’t hear anything but bass, drums, and bass. There was an electrifying energy to it all and you felt it sap away at you like a leech.

Sticking your hands out to feel around you, you noticed that there were clear paths around the main crowd. Maybe if you could go around you might have a chance at finding her. You hoped she wasn’t off puking in a bathroom stall. Well, it might not be so bad, at least that way it wouldn’t be in your car.

There was a gray-haired boy shouting on stage. He had a very long tongue. He looked a lot like the dude from that idol group, Crazy B. You wondered if people like that really went to clubs like this. You wondered if a part of it was outing all the stress they went through, how difficult it would be to explain where they went, explain where the pictures came from. Although, you supposed, people like that might just not care.

You felt a hand against your shoulder and you turned around.

A six-foot-tall black shadow loomed over you.

“God, your skin is so soft,” you heard him saying.

Was he talking to you? It looked like he was shouting, but you couldn’t really tell. You couldn’t really hear anything, it was so impersonal.

The man started to attach his body to you, getting very close into your personal space. A part of you was worried that he was going to grind against you, although there was a lot worse and he didn’t seem to be particularly harmful, if not a little touchy. His skin was absolutely burning, frying as it touched your skin. Did he have a fever?

You pulled away, worried that there was something wrong with him, but he just got closer again.

The lights flashed on him.

Redhead, huh.

“Look, buddy, I got to find my friend, could you get off me,” you shouted, worried that trying to talk to him would make your throat scratchy.

The bass dropped and he leaned down in, to get close to you.

“I think I’m in love,” he said, screaming into the void. “You know I’m usually not into butch girls, you got such a nasty expression. I’d tap that.”

What the fuck was he going on about? Was he shitfaced? He didn’t smell like alcohol. Normally your instincts would have you get the fuck away from someone like this, but he seemed cute and you were a little bit pent up. Anyways, with him all trashed like that, it would be difficult for him to fight back. Sighing, realizing that this was now your problem, you dragged him into the room closest to your right.

Turns out it was the bathroom.

A sense of relief hit you as soon as you realized how much better it felt to be under constant light and less noise. The music was still pumping blood into your head, you smashed him into the wall, pinning him down.

You finally got a good chance to look at his face. There were beads of sweat pouring down his headband.

This was Rinne Amagi, there was no doubt about it. Clinging to you. High off his ass.

It was a little difficult to not want to take advantage of this situation.

“What the fuck are you on?” you asked, dryly.

“Mo~lly~” he said, singing out each syllable, completely ignoring the music blasting in the distance.

Ah, well that explained it. You hoped your friend chose a clean strain this time.

You grabbed him by the collar and shoved him into one of the stalls, chucking him onto the ground, just short of the toilet seat. You wondered how gross that ground was, you wondered how many people had vomited on it, how many people shot up in here. You hated it here, your friend would have to hire a ride next time.

Rinne leaned forward, grabbing awkwardly at your chest, like he was trying to grope you. Your chest wasn’t particularly sensitive. It’s not like you had tits or anything. You’d never had another guy do that to you.

“Huh?” Rinne asked, furrowing his brow. “Your tits are kinda flat, Jesus christ.”

You frowned at him.

“You know I’m a dude, right?” you asked, somewhat deadpanned.

Rinne blinked incredibly slowly, letting all the blood rush back into his head. Frustrated and high on energy, his hand shot up and ruffled through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He took a deep breath.

“I kinda thought you were masc for a girl. Fuck, guess I’m gay now,” he said, ending with a sigh. “Wouldn’t be the first time, actually.”

Smirking, Rinne sank to the floor, mouthing at the front of your jeans, playing with the zipper.

“So, uh,” he said, his eyes lolling forward. “You wanna get sucked, sir?”

Sighing, you pulled down your pants and underwear, grabbed his head, and stuck your dick, still somewhat flaccid, into his mouth.

As Rinne was too surprised to respond, you decided to push into his lips. At least the warmth felt good around your shaft. He was supporting your body weight, at least. He wasn’t pushing you off.

“Come on asshole, didn’t you say you wanted to suck me off?” you asked, your tone harsh, your length beginning to harden in his lips.

That’s when you felt the tongue and everything started feeling better. He started by sucking his cheeks inwards, creating a nice seal around your dick. Sloppy and wet, Rinne began to move. Putting one shoe against the toilet rim, you straddled his face, adjusting so that you could shove your dick further down his throat. You heard slight choking sounds, the man clearly not used to this.

Not getting enough friction, you grabbed the back of his head and pushed it against you, his whole face smothered by your crotch, his nose resting pleasantly in your pubes. You felt his breath heave, struggling for air. You slammed your hips into his mouth, cutting off any circulation, cutting off any hope of him being able to breathe.

It felt so good to have him choke against you. That look in his eyes. Piercing blue, piercing through you as he was deep-throating you, struggling, in pain. It felt like minutes that you had him there, sucking against you endlessly, gagging, choking.

You felt it all rise at once and you came down his throat. You grabbed his hair and pulled him off of you, his face smeared with thick fluid and a wide grin, cum seeping from his lips.

“Damn! That wasn’t so bad!” Rinne shouted, laughing, slapping his leg. “Where else do I find men like you?”

He was still kneeling on the ground. He was really hard. A part of you wondered if it was a blow-and-go sort of deal or if Rinne expected more. Well, it wouldn’t be too difficult to take care of him when he was like this.

“Up your ass,” you said, answering his question sarcastically. “Now get on the seat and turn around.”

He grabbed your hand, his own still burning, blistering with heat. He licked it, your jizz still smeared across his face.

“How is your skin so tingly? It’s so cold, like an ice-cube. I want to keep touching you…”

You grabbed his shoulders and twisted him around, having him lean over the metal flusher. It wasn’t your first time by any means, but it was certainly your first with someone this trashed. You wondered if he’d even be able to keep his dick up or if the drugs even affected that. You fumbled with the jacket around his waist, his belt, and his zipper before finally pulling his pants down. You figured that you weren’t the first person to be frustrated at how much shit he had on.

It was quite the sight when you got a good look at his ass. It was definitely as toned as you had expected, but a little fattier than it looked on the outside. You put your hand around it and gave it a squeeze, not having much give. He had a nice ass. It made sense why it was so easy for him to slut around like this.

“You got lube?” you asked. “I’m gonna finger you, okay?”

“Jacket pocket,” he responded, barely hesitating.

Of course he had lube in his jacket pocket. You fished it out, avoiding the bags of pills. The bottle was almost empty, too. Lube crusted onto the side, it looked like he never bothered to even close the lid. Squeezing hard, some spat out onto your hand.

He seemed relaxed enough, so you started with one finger. You weren’t sure how often he had taken it up the ass.

“Haaanghn~”

The sound he made was rather lovely. Well, at least it seemed like he liked it.

“God, your dick feels so good~” he moaned into the room.

It was a single finger. You just came. What human would be able to get it up again that quickly?

Sighing, you inserted another finger. His insides were so loose. Clearly, he was comfortable enough to do something like this, clearly, he could have taken more if you were more prepared. He squeezed around you, as if he was caressing a dick, making sure that you felt good, making sure that his ass got as much friction as he possibly could around you. Everything felt like it was on fire, burning, melting, scorched around your fingers, overheating, overwhelmed by warm emotions.

When you pulled your fingers out a bit, you could hear him whine.

You slapped his ass, hard, and he half about choked up a lung. It was a good sound. He was making a lot of good sounds. A lot better than the washed away, thumping bass in the distance. It almost didn’t bother you anymore. If anything, it was a good beat to move your fingers in and out at.

You reached around to grab his dick, burning just like how the rest of his body was. How out of it was. How distracted he was getting. He was starting to bang his head to the music. You were worried he was going to smash it against the metal flushing valve.

Like a noodle in boiling water, you felt him start to go limp in your hand. Rinne still moaned, his ass still clenching around you. He groaned and warm liquid traced down your hand. You didn’t even wait till the smell hit you to shove him off.

His whole body slumped over the toilet, his hips pointed straight down at dinghy tap water. You could hear the stream of liquid pour out as he pissed himself.

You pinched your nose so you didn’t have to smell it.

“Yeah, that’s it, I think you’re done for tonight,” you said, wiping your hand on your pants.

“Aw, fuck,” he groaned out, his voice as sloppy as his body.

Reaching into your pocket, you took out an old receipt and wrote your number on it, letting it float down and land peacefully on his back. Sighing, you slammed the stall door behind you, groaning about the fact that you still had to find your friend.

#ensemble stars #enstars x reader #enstars #rinne amagi #rinne amagi x reader #male reader #dom!reader #w2tmfics

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Text

Grunge-Metal Geralt

Hi, im fucking trash for the idea of Geralt being the front man for a Five Finger Death Punch type band and my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. This music genre is my bread and butter and I think Geralt’s repressed but highly emotional ass would fit right in. Yes im using another Hozier song, no i dont wanna hear anything about it. I’m a basic bitch and ive made my peace with it

Warnings: i honestly have no idea, its a little horny, little emotional, but theres no actual character interaction?, its at a concert venue? idk yall.

_________________________

Jaskier was… out of his comfort zone.

It’s not that he didn’t like the grunge-metal music, he just hadn’t listened to much and he was not used to the energy. People were yelling and screaming and the opener hadn’t even come on yet. He didn’t feel unsafe, far from it. Several people had checked to see if he was okay, seeing as he was the only person in the entire arena wearing a sweater that wasn't ripped or faded to hell. It was just a far cry from the shows he was used to.

He played folky-blues. This was nothing like his shows.

When the lights went down the crowd was deafening, all moving as one to rush the front of the floor, not giving a single fuck about tickets.

The openers were exciting, and Jaskier was surprised by some of the concepts and messages behind the music. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all and he found himself searching them up on Spotify to listen later.

Then came The Witchers.

Eskel and Lambert made their energetic entrance, followed by Aiden calmly walking to his drums and sitting as if he were walking into a college class. But Geralt was nowhere in sight. The one person Jaskier had actually come to see.

He’d seen a video clip from a previous concert where they covered one of his songs, and he was praying they’d do it again. It was lovely in a haunting-almost-threatening way, and the expression in Geralt’s posture alone was enthralling. He had to see it live.

But Geralt was still absent as the band started to build a song. First Aiden with the beat, then Eskel’s bass, then Lambert with a melody on his electric guitar. It built and built and built to a fever pitch, taking the crowd with it. People were already jumping and screeching. Jaskier had to stand on his seat to see the stage clearly.

Geralt’s voice echoed through the venue, low and closer to a growl than singing, but he was still nowhere to be seen.

Jaskier thought he’d been prepared, but his whole body was covered in goosebumps. He briefly wondered if this was what his friends were feeling when they listened to ASMR.

Geralt remained hidden for the whole first verse, getting the crowd even more excited than Jaskier thought possible, only for the band to go completely silent for a whole measure. When the crowd's screams reached their absolute loudest, Geralt dropped from on top of one of the jumbotrons, landing on one of the horse-sized speakers before launching into the chorus.

Oh fuck, he was even more beautiful in person.

He was… well he was a beast of a man. Jaskier really didn’t have another word for the way his muscles bulged and how lithe and powerful he looked springing from the speaker to join his bandmates on the main stage. His thighs filled out his black, tattered jeans and there were clear faded spots where his muscles strained the fabric too often. The thin black tank he wore did nothing but pretend the man was semi-modest. It was so tight, the only thing left up to the imagination was tan lines and the color of his nipple piercings.

Jaskier was most entranced by his long, white, wavy hair falling past his shoulders. As the show continued and he started to sweat, a lot, it got curlier and curlier at the root. Jaskier wanted to give him a mask and some curl cream, but only after a, uhm, rough night of getting to know each other. He’d heard rumors about Geralt from hitting arenas not long after they’d left. He was quite sure they’d have a great time.

As he focused on the lyrics more and more, he was more inclined to want to wrap Geralt up in a hug and worship every part of him until he felt whole again.

Either he’d been shown the shitty side of the genre, or The Witchers were exceptions to the rule of content. Jaskier was almost moved to tears a few different times.

Finally, about an hour into Jaskier mindlessly feasting his eyes on the front man, Geralt leapt onto another speaker and sat down, breathing hard and grinning from ear to ear.

“You still with us?”

The unholy screech from the crowd left no doubt they were just as excited, if not more so, than when they’d arrived.

“Good! Good..” he trailed off, chuckling as he lowered the mic to take a breath, “We’re gonna slow it down for a minute,” he leaned forward and held the mic away as Eskel shouted something up at him to which he laughed and flipped him off.

“As I was saying, we’re gonna yearn for a minute or two and do a cover. Song by Jaskier called ‘Talk’.”

The crowd lost their shit again, various pride flags popping up throughout the stands.

Geralt chuckled and raised his combat boot, showing off the bi flag colored treads, earning another round of screams. If this is what the grunge-metal scene was like, Jaskier had been missing out his entire life. Sure his fans were sweet and supportive and loving when he’d come out. But this was electric and feral and completely addictive.

Lambert struck the opening chord to Jaskier’s song and the crowd settled to a gentle hum, setting the tone immediately, as if they all knew exactly what was coming.

Geralt closed his eyes as he tapped his thigh with one finger, keeping time before his rumbling baritone hit Jaskier like a freight train.

“I’d be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found…”

Jaskier could have collapsed right there. He knew he was staring like a lovesick idiot, but hell, everyone around him was too. When the chorus hit and Eskel came in with a heavy bass line he nearly fell off his chair. Geralt’s intensity raised with the addition of the backup but he didn’t move. He stayed seated, swaying slightly, with his eyes closed as he crooned out the words Jaskier had sobbed as he wrote, broken hearted and miserable.

It was surreal.

Sure he’d seen other covers. Sure they’d been lovely. But he wanted to listen to this and only this as he fell asleep for the rest of his life. He’d never play it again if he could only hear it one more time.

After the last verse Lambert launched into a guitar solo while Geralt jumped off the speaker and meandered to the center of the stage to slot his mic back in it’s stand. He gripped it like a lifeline when Lambert held one last note for as long as his instrument would allow and only started singing the last chorus when it was almost silent.

“I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we could do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you”

His expression looked hopeless and utterly desperate as he crooned out the last two lines. He let his hair fall to cover his face and Jaskier could just barely hear his panting breath over the sound system as the crowd exploded. Geralt tipped his head back and took two deep breaths before straightening up and getting on with the show but Jaskier was stuck.

He was vaguely aware of someone taking a picture of him, but he really couldn’t care less. The fact that Geralt moved right on to a song called ‘Burn Motherfucker Burn’ didn’t matter either.

Jaskier jumped down from his arena seat, whipping out his phone and sending the band a tweet, because apparently that’s what musicians did now?

“Record it. Please. It’s either that or sing me to sleep every night. You choose.”

He stayed for the rest of the show and walked to his car in a haze. Before he backed out of his spot he checked his phone like always and his heart nearly stopped at the two top notifications.

One public reply: “Both? -G”

And one direct message: “If you’re still here and want to grab a drink, I’m just backstage.”

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Kagerou Poject Reboot: RealSound Interview

Jin x Shirakami Mashirou x Yuumao

Their takes on the changes that each of them has witnessed in the past ten years and the things they have been seeing in the whirlpool that is the VOCALOID scene.

Translation commissioned by the amazing @sodasexual!

Celebrating the tenth anniversary of Kagerou Project, the Re:boot project has commenced. An interview has been carried out to ask about its background and prospects.

The ones we have interviewed are a trio consisting of the author of Kagerou Project and multi-creator Jin, as well as Shirakami Mashirou (bass) and Yuumao (drums/Hitorie), who are also production members of the original music piece and were listed as the performance team of “Children Record (Re:boot)”, which was released the other day as the first part of the Re:boot project.

We had them talk about the true intentions behind “Re:boot”, which means “to restart”, about the recordings where they created the concept of “overcoming the original composition” and about the near future, including the new song, along with the steps they have taken in the past ten years.

The “pain” that comes with creating something unprecedented.

——How did Kagerou Project’s Re:boot project begin?

Jin: Kagerou Project was set into motion back in 2011, so this year is the turning point of ten years since then. In that meantime, there were lots of things I fretted over, but as I discussed with the people around me about whether there was anything I could do, we came up with the idea of “remaking the old compositions”. I thought if that’s what we were going to do, then I wanted to try doing it with the original members of Children Record, so I contacted the two.

——How did each of you feel when Shirakami Mashirou-san and Yuumao-san received the proposal of a remake?

Jin: Regarding Mashirou-san, I was contacting him for the first in a long time. “Let’s go out for a drive,” I told him.

Shirakami: Right, right. We went on a car drive together. Just us seeing each other already felt nostalgic in itself, so we talked like normal about lots of things and were like, “Yeah, it was fun back then”. I felt that “Aah, I’m looking forward to this”.

Jin: While talking to the staff, I honestly felt uneasy about creating something new, even though it was a remake. If I had to use a word to represent these ten years in which I’ve been writing novels and making music for Kagerou Project, it was extremely “painful” to me. So I wanted to talk to Mashirou-san first-thing. On a different occasion, when a staff member asked me, “Have you been keeping in contact with Mashirou-san lately?”, I suggested, “If it’s okay, can I contact him myself?”, and then invited him for the drive. Rather than the request for the remake, I firstly wanted to discuss with him, “I’m planning on doing this thing; what do you think?”

Shirakami: There was one more person taking part in that drive, right?

Jin: That’s right. Since the coronavirus was going on, we went driving in three separate cars, and the third person was INPNE-kun, who made the video of Children Record Re:boot. That was INPINE-kun and Mashirou-san’s first meeting. At that time, INPNE-kun hadn’t started working on the video yet, but thinking back on it now, I’m glad the two of them were introduced to each other that way. It feels like our hearts bound the music and the video together.

——Yuumao-san, what about you?

Yuumao: Jin-kun and I were seeing each other constantly. I had received a request to tackle the recordings of the songs he had been making until now. Amidst that, there was a day when I received a request, amongst other matters, and was scheduled to “record Children Record”. Up to around three days before the recording, I spent my time wondering, “What’s this supposed to be?” (laughs).

——Jin-san, what did you think when choosing Shirakami-san and Yuumao-san, the original duo?

Jin: I only felt that I wanted to do it with these two. I didn’t have any other choice in the first place. I’m awfully fond of the contents that they performed in the original song, and I had no complaints other than towards my own abilities for making musical arrangements.

——You said earlier that “the past ten years were extremely painful”, but what kind of feeling was it?

Jin: The year when I began these activities, 2011, was the time when I was attending a vocational school; the band I was playing with back then disbanded midway, but by sheer coincidence, the older brother of a friend of mine was using VOCALOIDs and he taught me about them, so I really started doing it without any backing. Having played in a band until then, there was a lot of passion and many messages that I wanted to convey inside me, so this project was about me taking them and beginning to paddle off, and one of the aspects of it was that VOCALOID made the things I wanted to do into a reality. But that was a period where it felt like the VOCALOID culture wasn’t yet acknowledged. On top of that, other than the music, Kagerou Project had novels, and a lot of it had no precedents, so I believe there were parts of it that were difficult to understand for people who weren’t already into it. I didn’t know if the path I was going through was right or wrong. But the people around me kept telling me “not to take my foot off the accelerator”. In that sense, I definitely have negative memories of it. I also had the feeling that I was estranged from the music scene.

——Indeed, the music of Kagerou Project is unmistakably rock, and I believe it was something that pierced through Japan’s rock culture, but I think you might have felt that you were not understood by the rock bands of back then.

Jin: That’s right. Surprisingly, the people around me, including creators and those who were in bands, gave off an air of ridicule with a “he’s a faker” kind of nuance to it. I understood the awesomeness of rock bands, so of course, there were times when I’d wonder, “What is it that I’m doing?”. During these ten years, there was a moment halfway when I almost broke down. Due to many primary factors, I might’ve been unable to go on – like, there was a time when I found myself thinking that it was weird to keep it up while I was so at loss. There was also a period where I was unable to create anything for Kagerou Project.

——When did that happen, exactly?

Jin: Rather than breaking down all of a sudden, it’s more like I slowly became unable to create any more. Although I was being criticized on one side, I was also being demanded on another, so I was at a level where I was obligated to write. However, while all sorts of emotions were whirling up, I suddenly thought of something. There was a time when I got closure from that feeling of “not being acknowledged” that I mentioned earlier.

——When was that?

Jin: Around the time when I was making the previous album (“Mekakucity Reload”, which was released in November 2018). I was called “inexperienced” and “unskilled” not only in the rock scene but also in the light novel scene, so I made effort to sweep it all away. It felt like I was being treated like a tumor in everything I did. But then I suddenly thought, “Yeah, that’s fine”. There was a moment one day when the mists actually cleared, like, “What was I so at loss about?” It’s not like I’ve been going at it just so that someone would praise me. If anything, I lived my life constantly being made fun of. I’m no good at sports, I’m not smart, and I by no means did I ever excel at communicating with people at all. By the moment that I thought, if this is my character, then maybe being praised isn’t the only right answer, I was suddenly alleviated. If I’m being called a “child deceiver”, then I’m going to do that with all my might and apply myself to it, is what I thought. I refused to go to school for a while when I was in middle school, yet I had the feeling that I wanted to face this part of me, not in a fashionable or trendy way but in a miserable state, and fight him head-on. I guess that’s what suited me best. To me, Shirakami-san and Yuumao-san are people with a “chosen vision”. They have the sense to perceive beauty. I think I don’t have that in me. Which is why I was in pain. I was in a dilemma where I couldn’t grasp music as an art. However, it’s not like I’m making fun of hamburgers, but I started to think that I wanted to compete using something punk, something hamburger-like. It took me a while to get there.

——How do you feel after listening to what Jin-san just said, Yuumao-san and Shirakami-san?

Yuumao: Jin-kun said just now that he was “fretting” and “stuck”, but I knew about his circumstances to a certain extent, so I imagined that he was unable to move on. But while talking about all sorts of things with Jin-kun, when producing stuff in the last three to four years, we had the feeling that it basically boils down to “if we don’t provide this and that, it won’t be interesting”. This isn’t limited to KagePro – I just personally felt that the productions of his works were shifting towards not “making something good”, but rather making something that could be properly verbalized. For me, as someone on the performing side, I was also in a situation where, rather than just providing good content one way or another, I became increasingly able to explain it. In the end, we change just like that, is what I felt. And you base yourself on this to make new songs, right?

Jin: That’s right.

Yuumao: Thought so. That’s why I feel like the stuff that will come from you in the future will have stronger colors.

——Shirakami-san, what about you? How did the scenario change in the past decade and how do you think that you have been progressing as a musician?

Shirakami: The biggest change that I felt the most on my skin is that the huge Vocaloid movement itself has completely gained familiarity with the public in the last ten years. About a while after I had started associating with Mafumafu-kun, amongst the musicians that I’ve met, the number of people who came up to tell me, “I’ve been listening to Vocaloid” has increased. It’s been one round ever since we began doing this stuff, and the people who were the consumers back then became producers, is what I mean. That’s not us, the first generation – it’s a kind of follower generation, and we’ve completely permeated them. The context of what was born not only from VOCALOID but also the so-called internet culture has blended with the category named “ordinary rock bands”. That’s what I’ve been feeling for three or four years now. Therefore, the “feeling of being a knock-off” that Jin-kun innitially talked about has disappeared with the change of times, so to speak. I feel this keenly even in regards to myself and I think it’s an objective truth. However, from a personal point of view, even though changes are happening in many places, what is fundamentally required of us hasn’t changed much. For example, I believe that VTubers are also getting public familiarity now, but I think the reason why VTubers are trendy is that there are human beings underneath. For VOCALOID, too, the composers, so-called Vocalo-P’s, are the ones who get popularity, and one way or another, there’s also a phenomenom where the songs sung by popular Utaite become widespread. In the end, I think what matters is the fact that there are people behind it. I personally think we have to create stuff that we can be proud of while paying close attention to these things. In short, just because all internet content is intangible isn’t enough; we, the creators, have to carry the literacy of how society is going to approve of us.

Jin: That’s right. I think that VOCALOID music up to this point, Kagerou Project included, will have to be supplemented. Since we have words that are so easy to understand, such as “rock band”, “singer” and “songwriter”, for example, people go, “What the heck is a Vocalo-P, then?” At first, there was this impression that we were being given a weird alias by strangers, and I also felt like the adults, the people who are in control of the media, made us into something easy to digest. In regards to “deceiving children”, in order to earn money the fastest with it and make it spread the widest, the most effective method was probably to make it marketable, simple to understand and easy for adults to put labels on.

Therefore, I think that things such as “What is it that I can’t give up on?” and “What did I even want to do to begin with?” are the true identity of the realization that I mentioned earlier. It’s like wondering whether or not you can say aloud in the middle of a classroom that you “enjoy anime” or “really like cute characters”. Back in those days, I couldn’t to it at all. The class had castes. But I want to say this in a loud voice. Rather than trendy and fashionable overseas music, I much sooner believe in Summon Night EX-THESE’s theme song (“Byakuya” by Matsumoto Eiko) and other such music that I’ve always liked. Therefore, I want to start off from the fact that people think, “Aah, this guy has no sense”. It’s like I’m saying sorry to my middle school second-year self for almost forgetting the feelings I had back then. I seriously don’t care about winning. Being number one or being famous doesn’t matter at all to me. Only, I just don’t want people to act on their own accord like I’m a loser. I think that means I want to do something to fix this.

Earning recognition for creating KagePro content is still a few ways ahead.

——Back in 2013, we had a conversation between Jin-san and Suganami Eijun-san from THE BACK HORN, and back then, Jin-san said, “I’m handing bombs over to my grade school and middle school selves”. And that live concerts were the detonators.

Jin: That’s right.

——Regarding KagePro, I feel that this thing about “handing bombs over” is very prominent. Just as Shirakami-san said, VOCALOID “earned its own rights”, but in KagePro’s case, when I see the responses to the reboot, each and every one of the comments is very passionate.

Yuumao: Lately, be it with KagePro or Hitorie, the number of people who say either that they’re listening or had been listening to VOCALOID in the past year and a half has truly increased a lot. I kind of feel on my skin that many people are getting rooted in it.

——Jin-san, do you feel this too?

Jin: No, I don’t. This is a twisted way of putting it, but I think it’s a few ways ahead for us to receive that evaluation. I feel like it’s not over yet. When I started off by myself and decided to move on from my child self to the future, I wasn’t acknowledged by my elders and seniors. I feel inside me that this still isn’t over. I intend to be in a whirlpool. It hasn’t been proven yet whether I’m a knock-off or not. It makes me really happy that there are people who were influenced by us, but that opinion doesn’t make me change my mind.

——Jin-san, how do you think of KagePro in the near future?

Jin: When I look toward the future, I simply want to finish it. I will be taking my time to create content, but first things first, I want to devote myself to the completion of this project. I definitely won’t abandon it midway. I have this firmly in mind now. As for its contents, it’s mainly two things. For now, firstly, we have started the reboot from Children Record, but of course, there’s also a reboot for the project’s story. Moreover, there will be new developments coming next. There are also new songs and new stuff story-wise. And I want to do them with these two members, for as much as they allow. There’s the possibility that I’ll be making the drums play at 200 BPM when we’re in our 50’s. I think the announcements will be slow, but I’m very positive about this, so I myself am looking forward to it too. And, on the other hand, I also would like to ask these two for their ideas in regards to making music for this project and their opinions, like what they want to work hard on.

——What do you mean?

Jin: I honestly think that Children Record was extremely well-done. When it comes to creating something new, I want to destroy the approach that I’ve been using until now. How about it?

Shirakami: If we’re talking about approach, I believe we’ve been witnessing all sorts of possibilities. We went to studios together the past ten years for that, but we can also do it online like we did this time. Ah, we haven’t gone on a training camp yet.

Jin: I want to go on one.

Yuumao: For sure.

Shirakami: That might be interesting too. Now, if we’re talking just about the bass, it seems this production will turn out as one where I’ll get to confirm once again up to what point I can go – that’s what I thought when listening to you talk. I think the stance of trying to challenge yourself no matter how much you age is, of course, the way that musicians should be and I believe that challenging myself is the path I’m going to take, but there are genres, ideologies and aestheticss when it comes to music makers and performers. Personally, amongst the things that I’ve been producing together with Jin-kun until now, whenever we had a subject in front of us, we would only think about how to do our utmost to give a displayable form to it, but be it with the phrasing, nuance or melody, I feel like we have options for all of them. In a sense, there’s a side of Yuumao and I that has been branded as performers as we worked on productions with Jin-kun. So the extension of the straight line that we have been charting until now is, of course, still there. Now that ten years have passed, if I can make new songs with you from now on, I seriously think it might be okay to reflect once again on how my style is being processed. It’s as if it has matured. I have chosen this job out of free will, so one way or another, I’m aware that it’ll be important to keep polishing it from now onwards.

Jin: Thank you very much. That’s literally it. Even in the current Children Record, I think there’s some aspect of it that was made up from the minds of you two, the rhythm section members. Both Mashirou-san and Yuumao-san make new proposals every time. You never try to trace the past at all. The way you think about sound is insanely serious.

Yuumao: I’m planning to do my best to create sounds in a more loose manner from now on. As for what I mean by “loose”, to put it simply, I think it’s quite important to be inspired by present-time musical instruments, and that we get influence from that, when we’re making the sound details. I think it’s bad if we don’t accept and face these things. In particular, I believe that the bass and drums are the parts that change the most. KagePro won’t change yet it has changed, and I think we should keep bringing out that aspect of it.

――Indeed, as a concept, this reboot is not something made to arrange things in a completely different direction from before. Be it a ballad or programmed music, for instance, there would be nothing of that in it. It’s a remake, a rebuild – at any rate, it felt like you are building it up.

Jin: Thank you very much. In the end, we also shouldn’t think that we just perfomed it over again. So it felt like a rematch. We were all at home, but we did that recording ready to beat our selves from about eight years ago. What should I do to make the original members say that this one “was cooler” than the precious song called Children Record? I think I was able to find an answer to that one.

Shirakami: In a way, using VOCALOID might have been its forte. For example, whenever a band remade a song from ten years ago, I usually felt that “the vocals have none of the freshness that they had back then” or “the reckless feel from that time was better”. But because it’s VOCALOID, that part doesn’t change. It might be that we managed to grant positive changes only to the good points.

Jin: I see. I think that’s possible. My mindset this time was to play the guitar so much that my fingers would bleed. I want to take on more challenges from now onward too.

#kagerou project #kagepro #mekakucity actors #kagerou daze #kagerou project reboot #jin #shirakami mashirou #yuumao #realsound #interview #my translation

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

spellbound

pairing: jimmy page x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of substances, one (1) swear and a little nsfw at the end

words: 3k

summary: when in new orleans, there’s always something new and exciting to experience. when the boys take shelter in a quaint jazz lounge, they discover a hidden gem.

author’s note: this was an idea born from @timetraveller4 and her lovely mind, so thank you for that ash <3 no beta as always, and i really hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

It was Bonzo’s idea, originally.

The drummer had proposed that the band, accompanied, of course, by the infamous Richard Cole, go to a lounge for the night. See what the music scene was like, outside of their little bubble.

Touring had become almost monotonous, the endless flow of groupies blending into a hazy background of alcohol and drugs. They were in New Orleans for the night, and needed a release from the antics; a release of pressure.

Walking along the cobbled streets, lit only by tall, blinding streetlights, the hunt for the perfect spot continued. Rain twinkled like stardust upon them, landing in their hair and falling down their backs. Jimmy shivered, burrowing further into his coat, a rich navy blue, butterflies made of sparkling sequins fluttering across his shoulders. Cigarette dangling from lush, pink lips, he sighed out a faint white cloud of smoke. His long, dark hair stuck to his face and neck, and a swear burst past his lips. His curls hid emerald eyes from view like a curtain of darkness, and he shook his head.

It’ll be fun, he said. Don’t worry about it, he said. Just relax.

Robert, unaware of the glare the raven-haired guitarist was sporting, strolled ahead, eyes catching on a glowing sign, slick with rain and slightly weather-beaten. The place must be old, he thought.

Sliding closer, he gazed up at it, ocean eyes squinting against the rain that seemed to pour harder, faster, the further they ventured from their hotel. The sign, neon lights blurring into haloes of colour, read ‘The Whispering Wind’. Underneath sat a truly artistic rendition of wispy winds fading into a cloud, the pure ivory of its light cascading across the damp sidewalk like a graceful stream. You could almost feel the warmth and hospitality behind the closed doors, and Robert, whose smile seemed to light the path better than any streetlamp could, turned to his companions.

“This looks like a fine place, doesn't it?”

“Let’s go inside. Better than staying out here,” Jonesy replied, slipping past the singer to grasp at the ornate golden handle of the mahogany door. The bassist pulled the door open and stepped through, and almost immediately, he was enveloped by the comforting heat that seemed to settle into his chilled bones. “Definitely better.”

One by one, the boys stepped into the lounge, smiling as they took in the atmosphere. By the door sat a long bar, maple wood shining in the dim light filtering out from the fixtures hanging from above. Paintings of old Hollywood royalty decorated the taupe walls, while a spotlight affixed to the ceiling bathed the wooden surface of the stage against the wall in faint yellow light. The ruby red of the curtains complimented the exposed maroon brick of the opposite wall, and booths, with scarlet upholstery streaked through with pristine gold, littered the floor.

It was cramped and dimly lit, certainly not fit for the rock gods it sheltered. It was perfect.

Jimmy stood just outside the door, taking a final drag of the cigarette burning between his lips. Glancing around the cove of the entryway, his eyes locked onto a poster plastered across the wet brick of the building. The silhouette of a woman stood against a simple black background, gripping a microphone stand in manicured hands, mystery and class in the subtle curve of her lips. Half of her body was painted in a silvery light, and Jimmy stared at the long crimson dress she was wearing. Tantalizingly long legs are just visible from the slit that splits the gown.

In bold white lettering, a collection of dates are scrawled across its surface, but it’s the name that rippled across the paper that caught his eye.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Hm…”

Must be tonight’s performer, he thought. She’s gorgeous, from what Jimmy could tell; the sultry gaze, the teasing uptick of her rosy lips. The guitarist just hoped that she’s as talented as she is beautiful.

Jimmy let the cigarette in his hands drop to the floor, crushing it under his heel, smoky ash mingling with the scent of petrichor. Grasping the frigid metal of the door handle, the man’s ebony curls flew in every direction as he shivered once more. Slipping through the open door, a wave of comfort rushed over him, warmth settling into his core. The light din of unimportant conversation settled over him like a plush blanket, calming his perpetually racing mind.

Jimmy, spotting his friends at a table far back from the stage, sidled up to the bar, signalling for attention. Ordering his favourite of gin and tonic, the dark-haired guitarist walked back over to join the group, sitting down right next to Robert. The blond glanced over at him and grinned, wrapping a tanned arm around his shoulders.

“It’s a wonder you’ve stopped frowning, Pagey.”

“I was warned I’d get stuck like that, you see,” Jimmy grumbled, the hint of a smile that graced his lips shattering the image of dissatisfaction. “Hasn’t happened yet, but who knows what the future holds.”

“Ah. If it weren’t for your sunny disposition, we’d be in trouble.”

“You—”

The retort died on his tongue, and his mossy green eyes went impossibly wide.

An alluring voice, smooth and rich, rang clear and sharp through the air, charming the patrons of the lounge. The rasping tone made Jimmy’s mind go utterly blank, too entranced to react. Mingling with the droplets that danced from the black grand piano, the performer made his heart pound in his chest like a bass drum. Shaking Robert’s arm off, he turned to face the stage, and promptly forgot how to breathe.

“I put a spell on you, because you're mine. Oh, mine…”

Up on the stage, stood the most beautiful woman Jimmy had ever seen. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, a lovely contrast to the skin of her exposed shoulder. The woman fluttered around the stage, her dress, the colour of a midnight sky, swaying as she moved. She was full to the brim with restrained confidence: she knew she could dazzle the audience, but really, she didn't need to. They were already eating out of her palm.

Jaws hit the floor and every eye in the room was firmly trained on her, and the graceful smirk painting her features served as proof. She was a siren, and the audience her doomed admirers. Jimmy couldn't tear his eyes away through the whole performance, and his distracted clapping as she curtsied alerted his bandmates.

“You okay, Jim? Looks to me like,” Bonzo started, glancing over at Robert with mischief shining in his dark eyes, “You’ve got yourself a little crush, no?”

“I’m… She’s just—”

“Perfect? Gorgeous, talented,” Jonesy interrupted, catching the guitarist’s attention. A smug grin at home on his lips, the bassist shrugged, turning to face his friend. “And… standing right over there.”

Following the path pointed out by Jonesy’s outstretched finger, Jimmy’s eyes locked on a familiar figure, floor-length gown shimmering in the dim light. Stood at the bar, she rested her arms on the surface as she leaned closer to talk to the bartender. Throwing her head back in a genuine laugh, she bares her throat, and Jimmy’s mouth goes dry. The performer takes the drink offered to her, a glass filled with what looks to be whiskey in her manicured hands. A finger lazily traced the rim. The beautiful woman turned towards them then, locking eyes with the guitarist over her shoulder. She winked, and walked away, a ring of condensation on the tabletop all that was left of her.

“Hey, Cole,” Jimmy whispered into the silence that had fallen over the table, and turned to the man, whose only response was a telling smirk. “Would you… Could you, uh…”

“On it, boss.”

In a split second, the man shuffled away from the table, his parting gift a wink at the sable-haired guitarist.

------

As you step on stage, the crowd’s chatter continues, and you smile to yourself. Nights at The Whispering Wind were always like this: the snippets of conversation fading into a symphony of white noise. It calms you, being so used to the bustling New Orleans streets. This is a little slice of paradise, in your eyes.

You flatten down your dress, velvet soft against your hand, and gaze over to your pianist. Nodding back, he launches in, soft at first, but crescendoing soon after. His hand raised in the air, he looks over to you.

Your cue.

You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoky air, and sing your heart out. Light and shade battle for dominance as you play the audience like a fiddle. Your voice, full of lust and desire, floats around the room, and you smirk to yourself, looking at the sea of faces in front of you. Everything is hazy, the spotlights blurring your vision, but you can swear someone is staring at you. A man, it looks like. His dark hair shines in the faded light, and his eyes sparkle with intelligence and, interestingly enough, appreciation. It takes effort to tear your eyes away from him, but you succeed, and belt out the last line. Your smile rivals the bright lights shining down on you, and you curtsy. The cheers of the audience serves as your soundtrack, as you step off stage, scurrying over to the bar. It takes a special effort not to gaze at the mystery man as you pass.

“Lovely evening for a drink, isn’t it? I’ll have whiskey, neat.”

“Coming right up, Madam,” The bartender winks at you, a smile blossoming on your face. He sets the drink into your waiting hands, and leans against the counter, smirking at you kindly. “Wonderful show, tonight. You’re a talent, my dear.”

“Well, thank you,” you reply, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. Your smile grows brighter, and your giggle is featherlight as it floats past your lips, “It’s what I love to do.”

Your conversation is interrupted by the sounds of whispers from behind you, and you look over your shoulder. Those eyes, the bright shade of green you had seen from the stage, were looking right back at you. He looks shy, nervous even, almost hiding behind his tawny-haired friend. From your spot at the bar, you can tell, now, just how handsome he truly is. His dark hair falls in tastefully mussed curls, and his skin looks clear, almost like porcelain. His lips are petal-pink, and look soft. His jaw is sharp, and he’s rather thin; scrawny even, but he’s still gorgeous.

Holding his gaze, you wink, and his eyes go impossibly wider. You tip the bartender and walk away, a “thank you” thrown over your shoulder. A safe distance away from the mystery man and his posse, you chance a look back, and spot a man standing from the table, patting the black-haired beauty on the back. To your surprise, he weaves through the crowd towards you.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he says, catching up to you. He smooths down his button-up shirt, and sends a charming grin your way, holding out a hand to shake. “May I ask your name?”

“It’s Y/N. And yours, if I may?”

“Richard Cole.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cole?” This is met by a chuckle from the man, his hand going up to stroke his dark beard.

“Well, lovely, do you see that man over there, with the black hair?” You follow his outstretched hand, and your eyes fall upon your mystery man. He’s looking back at you, hands fiddling with each other. His gaze finally drops from yours, and the tell-tale blush rising on his cheeks makes you laugh softly. “He’d love to have a chat with you.”

“If he wants to talk to me, he can come over here himself and tell me that.”

Cole chuckles, and shakes his head fondly. Glancing over at the mystery man, he waves him over. From your spot, you can see the way he approaches on shaky legs, and you smile, recognizing him instantly. With a pat on the back of the curly-haired man, Mr. Cole is gone, and you're alone together. This is going to be fun.

“What’s your name, darling?” You ask, though you already know the answer. It’s not every day that a world-famous musician stops by ‘The Whispering Wind’, after all.

“I-it’s Jimmy… uh, Page.” His hands, you notice, are clenched into fists, and he shuffles from foot to foot. You press closer to him, and he blushes harder, cheeks almost aflame.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jimmy. I’m—”

“You’re Y/N, aren't you? I saw the poster outside, and I thought you were beautiful,” Breath hitching as he realizes what he just said, Jimmy slaps a hand over his mouth. His emerald eyes signal that he’s embarrassed, but you can only giggle. “I only meant that—”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Jimmy’s thin hand flies up to scratch the top of his head, and his hair falls in his face, effectively blocking him from view. You can see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you. I, uh… you’re an amazing vocalist. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, your stage presence was… arresting.”

“So you admit to staring at me?”

“Well, I… You…”

I’m just playing, Jimmy,” Your laugh twinkles as it fills the silence, and Jimmy’s lips quirk up in a small smile upon hearing it. “If anything, I should be the one staring. Led Zeppelin’s a big deal, y’know.”

“You… you recognized me?”

“You boys aren't exactly rising stars. Being as famous as you are, I didn’t think you’d be this humble.”

He chuckles under his breath, and looks up at you through his eyelashes. It seems he’s grown more confident now, and you smile, gaze drifting down to his mouth. If you leaned in, just a little, your lips would meet, and you could finally know if his are as soft as they look.

“We’re in New Orleans for another day, uh… I was wondering if, well… God, I’m terrible at this.”

“Jimmy—”

“Could I… take you out, sometime?” His halting, nervous speech only makes him more endearing, and you gaze into his eyes as he squirms. Jimmy sputters, trying to take his words back, but you silence him with a hand on his bicep. Lean muscle ripples under your hand, and you smile at him.

“Jimmy.”

“Oh God, I’ve fucked it all up, haven’t I? J-just forget what I said, I don’t know what—”

“It’s—”

“Seriously, it was probably a mistake to ask you that. I mean,” Jimmy’s head droops, hair shielding him once more, and you can’t help the fondness that rushes through you. Unaware of the smile that nearly splits your cheeks, he presses on, hands flying back and forth to prove his point, “You’re absolutely divine, and I’m just— Uh...”

Close enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, you put a hand to his shoulder, wiping off imaginary dust from his coat. Your fingers catch slightly on the bedazzled butterflies that adorn it. His eyes follow your hands as they dance and twirl across the fabric, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath echo in the slight space between the two of you. A lone finger finally finds his chin, and you lift his head to look at you.

“Eyes on me, chéri.”

His gorgeous green eyes meet yours from under his curly fringe, and you push a stray lock to rest behind his ear. His cheeks redden even more, something you hadn’t thought possible, as he stares into your eyes.

Pressing close to him, his scent surrounds you, and your lips brush against the curve of his ear.

“Tu veux un rendez-vous? Tu dois travailler pour cela, chéri.”

You pull away, and he is left with the ghost of soft lips against his cheek, the scent of your perfume floating after you as you walk away. Jimmy stands in place, too stunned to even react, until a hand at his back makes him jump. Glancing over his shoulder, he spots his bandmates, smirks at home on their faces. Jonesy pipes up, looking him up and down.

“You okay, Page? You’re looking pretty red…”

“It seems, and correct me if I’m wrong,” interjects Bonzo, as he slips an arm around Jimmy, guiding him back to their table. Jimmy slumps into a chair, stunned into silence, a hand raising to his cheek. Bonzo chuckles, and continues, “Like your crush just got a lot more serious.”

------

Safe behind the door of his hotel room, Jimmy trudges to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Slipping out of his clothes, that he folds neatly on the bed, the guitarist steps in. Steam curls in tendrils around the small bathroom, and Jimmy takes a deep breath. Hand settling on his cock, he begins stroking it slowly; experimentally. The pleasure feels incredible, euphoric even, as his mind drifts to the intriguing woman he had met just an hour ago. Her image is seared into his mind, and every touch she had given him felt like a wildfire licking at his skin. His groans match the speed of his hand as he speeds up, gripping the tiled wall for support.

The scent of her perfume, something floral, unplaceable, lingered in his nose, and he wishes to see her again. To have that scent invade all of his senses, again. Jimmy’s whimpers, quiet, yet keening, echo off the walls, as he reaches his peak. He imagines her there with him, raking a hand roughly through his hair, her hands roaming every inch of skin they could reach.

His muscles twitch as warmth spills over his hand, a soft grunt slipping past his gritted teeth. He’s in ecstasy, something better than any drug. Something he doesn’t ever want to come down from.

As he recovers from the high he had just experienced, his gasping breaths fill the space. Knees trembling from exertion, he grips onto the slippery shower wall, and whispers into the steam that fills the room.

“Y/N…”

------

(the french sentence: you want a date? you have to work for that, darling)

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages (let me know if you want to be added!)

#jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page x reader #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic #reader insert

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petals42 · 4 years

Text

been so long and now...

Alright, not writing the fic but this is the fic I want to read for julie and the phantoms (okay updated note: I wrote it basically). Going to try to keep this quick (LOL it’s 7k). We’re starting after season 1 here.

[7k, Reggie-centric, Julie POV, child abuse mention, Ray is a good dad.]

Alright, the boys can now touch Julie (sometimes) and can still be seen when playing music, but other than that, it’s not super clear how much actually changes. And after that day in the garage, life seems to even out a bit. Which means Alex is off looking for Willie and Luke and Julie are spending a lot more time writing music together (and okay, maybe that’s new but if both of them ignore it, it's fine) and Reggie is back to hanging out with Ray.

Ray can’t hear him or see him and the conversations are by necessity very one sided. Either Reggie filling Ray in on his day slash his ideas on ghosthood or Ray talking to himself/the computer but somehow it becomes fairly commonplace for Julie to walk downstairs and find her dad talking to (around?) her dead teenage bandmate. And there are times, sure, where she is like is this weird?? Should i say something about this??? But Reggie is kind of being left on his own a lot and she never really wanted to listen to her dad mutter about cameras and if that’s how Reggie wants to fill his days then… well that’s not her business. Neither party seems to mind. Probably because her dad doesn’t actually know.

Of course, the Julie-magic power does eventually start working more and more and then Carlos knows they are ghosts and then her dad hears them talking in Julie’s room when Luke accidentally starts humming and then catches a glimpse of them in garage when there’s no lights on so he doesn’t see how the hologram is working and--

“It’s time to tell him, I think,” Julie says to the boys and Luke nods and looks excited and Alex twists his hands around his drumsticks the way he does when he is a little anxious (but mostly okay) and when Julie glances over at Reggie, she expects that large megawatt smile that he directs at Flynn or Carlos but instead, he looks even more uncertain than Alex.

“I dunno,” he says, one shoulder raised. “I feel like we have an okay system?”

His concerns get drowned out by Luke and Alex and Julie herself pointing out that her dad is in photography, at some point he is going to realize that this hologram technology does not obey the laws of physics and/or light, plus he keeps almost seeing them just around his house and…

They play a song to tell her dad and lately, the boys have been able to be seen longer and longer, especially when they are just in the studio and don’t officially bow so once her dad gets over the initial shock (which, admittedly, takes him a little longer than Flynn or Carlos), there are introductions and--

Julie finds herself glancing at Reggie the whole time. Waiting for him to bound forward and say that actually he knows all about Ray and actually they’ve hung out quite a bit and actually, it was him that’s been slowly doing the puzzle with Ray in the corner room and maybe the other boys do too because there are a lot more awkward pauses that she thought there would be but Luke seems to realize it halfway through so suddenly he is taking the lead (and maybe trying to impress her father like omg what???) and so it kind of gets forgotten. (especially afterwards, in her room, when her dad lowkey tries to grill her about her relationship with these boys and she doesn’t have good answers and ugggggh maybe they should’ve stayed holograms).

Anyway, things are still mostly normal after that. The boys are not often seen or visible (except more and more to Flynn and sometimes Carlos) and so Reggie is often back to hanging around her dad and one time Julie does ask him “Do you let him know that you’re here?” and “Oh no,” Reggie says. “I wouldn’t want to bother him.” And Julie guesses that’s true, Reggie is normally chilling with her dad when he is editing photos so, alright. Again, she has lots of other things going on. There isn’t much point in digging into this.

Except then-- then the boys start being seen more and more around the whole house. It starts in the studio and then sort of spreads and it’s a weird new normal for sure, them still walking through walls whenever they want so you can’t forget they’re ghosts, but you sure can see them around a lot. And if Julie is around and can make them solid, they can eat and so it become a not rare occurrence to have the boys come eat dinner 2ish times a week or at least try to (Julie’s “powers” only work about a fourth of the time, to be honest, but they can be seen so they usually hang around.)

And right around when that becomes common place, suddenly Reggie stops hanging out with Ray.

I mean, it’s not something that Julie notices right away but suddenly Reggie is around the studio a lot more and sometimes she assumes he is in the house only to find out he has been hanging by the beach or with Alex and Willie and there’s no real reason for worry but it sort of… lurks in the back of Julie’s mind. A weird sense that something isn’t quite right there, that Reggie used to love hanging around her dad and giving her dad full reports of their days and, okay, maybe it was weird but still… it bothered her. Now that it was gone.

And then, her dad asks her about it.

Not directly, but he comes sort of frowning into her room, asking if the boys are okay, and “yeah, why?” Julie says and..

“Oh, I dunno,” her dad answers, looking over his shoulder and drumming his fingers against his thigh. “It just feels… I don’t know, the house feels empty? Like… sometimes I think there should be someone and-- you know what, nevermind. It’s probably in my head.”

“No, no,” Julie says because she’s lied to her dad enough. “You’re right. I mean, Reggie used to hang out in the house all the time.”

“Reggie,” her dad says. “The bassist. He did?”

“Yeah, he was probably… what you were sensing.” and Julie has an awful moment of wondering if her dad thought that presence around him was her mom and if Reggie being more busy with other things was like losing someone all over again and--

“That’s what that was!” her dad sounds happy. And relieved. “Sorry. Who. Who that was. I thought I was going crazy.”

“No,” Julie shakes her head. “He’s real. And he was around a lot.”

“Hm,” Ray says and turns to leave. Then turns. “You know… he’s still welcome, you know? Unless you guys are practicing more…”

“I’ll tell him,” Julie laughs. And then shoos her dad out because she has got to work on this chemistry homework and sometimes it sucks -- having three ghost bandmates who should be in high school but who never have to do anything and don’t even try to help her and--

*^*^*^

“Hey,” Julie says, plopping down next to Reggie on the couch. It’s a few days later but this is the first time they’ve been alone-- Luke and Alex, realizing they were solid enough to go eat and running for the kitchen, Reggie opting to stay behind.

“Hi, Jules!” Reggie says and he doesn’t seem any different. With her and the band, he talks just as much as always, big bright smile, whining about the need for a country song, laughing at all their mishaps.

“I have a question.”

“What’s up?” He twists to face her, giving her all his attention. He does that, she realizes. Focuses on her. All the boys do, to some extent, but with different energies. Reggie’s is the biggest, she thinks. Honest and open.

“So… I’ve sorta noticed that you haven’t been hanging out with my dad as much anymore?” Julie tries to keep her tone casual. She’s not accusing him. She’s just… curious.

“Oh,” Reggie says and his head tilts as if confused by her confusion. “Well, yeah.”

There’s a beat. Julie thinks Reggie is going to keep talking. Reggie does not. Reggie turns back to where he was tuning his bass. “Uh, why?” she finally asks.

Reggie frowns at her. “Well, he can see and hear us now,” he says, as if this is very obvious.

“So?”

“So like… I don’t want to bother him,” Reggie says. “He does a lot of work during the day. It was one thing when he couldn’t hear or see me but now you know… I’m annoying.”

It’s Julie’s turn to frown, even though Reggie is already looking down again. There’s something about the way he says it, I’m annoying that bothers her. He says it as if it is an obvious fact. As if everybody knows it. As if it’s true.

“You’re not annoying,” she says. “I don’t think you’re annoying.”

He blinks at her. “Well, no, you don’t,” he allows. “And Luke and Alex don’t. Most of the time.”

“And Flynn and Carlos,” she adds.

“Most of the time. But still, see, all kids. Teens,” Reggie says. “But old people… parents are different. You have to--”

He cuts himself off and for a moment, his hand grips the neck of his bass tightly and there is a tension in his shoulders and suddenly Julie thinks she maybe is in a little too deep here. She doesn’t want to upset him.

“You’re dad is really nice but he still… It’s different,” he says and he shoots another smile at her, but it’s tight and fake and he jumps up the moment Alex and Luke burst back into the studio.

“So close,” Alex mutters as they come back in. “I had the sandwich IN MY HANDS.”

“Dumb choice,” Luke says, mouth still clearly full of something. “You gotta just hit the snacks, my friend. Focus on what’s quick and easy.”

The boys all head for their instruments and the moment is passing, Julie knows, and she also knows she now has clues that maybe she should put together but she doesn’t have time and why couldn’t her powers last just a little longer this one time? But-

“You should still go hang out with him again,” she tells Reggie as Luke starts tuning up and Alex gets settled behind his drums. “He misses you.”

There’s no time for Reggie to ask any questions but his frown of confusion as she turns away says it all.

*^*^*^

It grows, this curiosity and she realizes she doesn’t know much about Reggie’s parents. Luke’s, she obviously knows very well and she knows the story very well and she has heard enough about Alex’s to know that they are not worth seeking out but Reggie’s…

She’s never even heard him mention them. Not even in all their conversations about Luke’s. And this is a sensitive topic for all the boys and she doesn’t know how much to push or even whether to push so--

“What were Reggie’s parents like?” she blurts one day. Luke startles and looks up at her and that’s fair as they had been in the middle of writing a song and there was no reason for her to ask.

“What?” Luke says and she gets to watch as he tries to switch his brain over from music-mode to conversation-mode.

“Reggie’s parents,” she repeats. “What were they like?”

And she knows she’s hit on something when Luke’s head goes down and his shoulders come up and “I dunno,” he says. “It’s… we didn’t hang out there that much.”

“But you must know something?” Julie presses. “Like… did they ever come to see you guys play?”

“No,” Luke says and he’s leaning further away, eyes cutting to the door. “Look, I--”

“Were they against him playing music?”

“Uh- I don’t… Why are you asking?”

The question forces Julie to pause. And she chews her bottom lips as she tries to figure out the answer. Why is she asking? What does she think? What does she actually need to know?

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I just… he’s never even mentioned them.”

“Well, then… we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” Luke says and that’s fair, she knows it is, but she can’t help if she doesn’t have some information. And going to Luke was at least better than just googling.

“So there is something to talk about,” she says softly.

“No, I don’t… look,” Luke says and takes a breath. “Reggie never…. He never said anything about them, really. Not even when we were alive. He just… I don’t know. I told you, we never hung out at his house.”

“So you think they were…?” Julie lets the sentence dangle. Luke glares at her a little. Then takes another breath. Fiddles with something on his pants. Doesn’t speak. “You know I’m just trying to help, right?” Julie asks. “I just--”

“Reggie was really quiet,” Luke interrupts. “When we met him, I mean. He was… he was really shy.”

“Reggie?” Julie asks and she can’t help the disbelieving tone. That doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “He was a great bass player, obviously, and nice enough but… really quiet. He… didn’t even laugh really. He just hung back a lot and… it’s weird to think about. Now that I know him.”

“You think he was that way because of his parents?”

“I mean… I dunno. Maybe?” Luke shrugs. “The few times he met my parents, he was… really weird.”

“Weird?”

“Just… weird.”

Julie opens her mouth to ask more questions, to say that that answer wasn’t specific enough, but Luke finally meets her eyes and suddenly she knows that this conversation is going to end.

“Look, if you want to know more, you can probably ask him,” Luke says. “Or like… don’t. It’s not like it matters anymore now, right?”

And there’s a trace of bitterness in that and a trace of please stop and more than a trace of I am uncomfortable with this conversation and so Julie lets it go.

“Yeah,” she says, worried she pushed too hard. “Yeah, you’re right.”

*^*^*^

The clues are all there and Julie isn’t sure what they point to, so she tries to listen to Luke’s advice and remember that it doesn’t really matter. Reggie doesn’t have to see his parents again and it doesn’t matter and he continues to seem absolutely fine with the band. Fine and happy and--

“Helloooo?” she hears him call from the front door, just as she’s hitting the top of the stairs. She turns, a bit confused because the boys never bother announcing themselves but she opens her mouth to tell him she has to finish homework before rehearsal today and then closes it when she says that he is not looking at her at all, but towards the kitchen.

She walks down a few steps. Bends over so she can peer down and see what he’s looking at.

Her dad is sitting at the counter.

“Hello!” Reggie is louder this time, and then waves his arms a little bit for good measure and her dad doesn’t see him, she realizes, doesn’t even flinch at all the noise and the arm flailing and she is about to tell Ray that Reggie is there when suddenly, Reggie’s face bursts into a grin and, seemingly satisfied that he is undetectable, the teenager plops himself down in the stool next to Ray.

Julie watches as her dad continues muttering to himself for a minute and then he pauses, and shifts, and glances, and she doesn’t know if he caught a glimpse of Reggie or if he can just sense it but his mouth quirks into a slight smile and he talks more now, at maybe a higher volume, but still to himself and Reggie doesn’t seem to notice the change, so she leaves them to it.

Reggie is still there when she finally finishes her homework two hours later.

*^*^*^

It doesn’t really get that much better. Reggie still avoids the house when he is visible and, when she catches him with her dad, she somehow knows that he had made sure he was undetectable before risking it and he doesn’t talk as much now, not when he’s learning from conversations with Flynn and Carlos that sometimes it’s part way through a conversation that they are suddenly audible, but she hopes it’s a little bit nice, at least, that Reggie is there at least part of the time.

*^*^*^

They play a particularly good show and the boys stay visible for 5 straight days. Reggie avoids the house the whole time.

*^*^*^

It’s a Friday night when Julie finally gets her biggest clue. It’s a rare quiet Friday. They don’t have a gig all weekend so there’s no rehearsals and Carlos is home and the boys aren’t visible or audible to anyone but Julie so most of her time is spent laughing at what they say and then having to explain to her dad and brother and she thinks they are going to try to play a game, maybe like Clue? Something all the boys can play, though Luke is pushing for twister even though the boys can literally go through people so that doesn’t seem fair at all and--

Something (a ball) whizzes past her head as she and her dad are bent over trying to remember the Clue rules and then she jumps as there’s the unmistakable sound of breaking glass.

There’s a moment of stillness and then it makes sense. There’s a vase broken on the ground and a baseball rolling under the kitchen table and she turns to see Carlos, looking shocked, mouth already open to apologize.

“Carlos!” her dad says, standing and moving, doubtlessly to go get the broom. But there is glass everywhere and his voice comes out angry because this is not the first kitchen object Carlos has broken by a longshot. “How many times have I told you not to play--”

Things move very fast then.

Her dad is moving towards Carlos because that’s where the broom is and Carlos is standing still and looking down because he already knows he’s going to get in trouble and then just as suddenly, Carlos is sort of stumbling back because he’s been pulled back and Reggie is standing where Carlos just was.

Squarely between her dad and her brother.

“It was me,” Reggie says. And he sounds sort of breathless but also certain and he’s not moving from where he stands.

Carlos is still sort of gaping that he was just pulled back by a ghost and Julie can see the other two boys processing that fact, the fact that Reggie just managed to touch another person and Ray jerks to a stop because a full teenage boy has just popped into existence in front of him. So no one says anything.

“I threw the ball,” Reggie repeats. More firmly this time. A lie, Julie knows, because Reggie had been on the couch with Alex. Nowhere near where the ball had come from. “It was my fault.”

His voice is still firm and his eyes stay on Ray’s for a second before looking down and his hands tighten into firsts before going slack and he swallows and--

He’s scared, Julie realizes. Scared, but still.

“It was my fault. So--”

“Reggie!” Her dad exclaims and he’s beaming, she can already see it, and then without a thought to whether Reggie is still solid or not, her dad is throwing her arms around Reggie as if he is a long lost friend

(Which in a way, maybe he is)

Reggie stays solid and his arms are pinned to his side and Julie sees him stiffen, sees his face frown in confusion.

“You’re here!” Ray says, still grinning. He leans back and slaps Reggie on the arm. “And solid, I see. Thank goodness. Come, come help me on this puzzle. You’ve been slacking and I swear this dark spot near the left corner is driving me crazy and-- Oh, Carlos, go get the broom and clean this up. No throwing balls in the house! Honestly, you’d think after the last time-- Reggie, wait, whatever happened with that telenovella you guys were watching, you haven’t updated me in forever.”

And then her dad is dragging Reggie away, who still looks shell-shocked, still looks like he was expecting something different, and Julie hangs back, partly to help Carlos clean up, partly to enjoy hearing Reggie slowly start to stammer out answers to her dad’s many, many questions.

*^*^*^

“Oh shoot,” her dad says an hour later, when family puzzle night is brought to an end because the three boys have abruptly vanished from existence. He looks at where Reggie had been sitting (roughly). “Well, we’ll finish next time.”

*^*^*^

What happens next, Julie calls in her head, the Period of Cautious Testing.

She sees it play out.

Reggie comes into the house, waves hi to her, but doesn’t say anything and then he goes and sort of… lurks near her dad, watching carefully and if her dad seems to be in a good mood (which he is often, to be honest), Reggie will either say hello or obviously pull out a stool to make it clear he is there and--

“Are you free?” Reggie asks. Or “Do you mind?” or “Hey, can I--?”

He says it when Ray can hear him and writes it if there is pen and paper nearby and even when there’s not, he stays tense and ready to fly if he’s not wanted, but--

“Of course!” her dad says. “Sit down.” “Come look.” “Oh, Reggie, check this out--”

And Reggie stares and listens and there’s this smile he has, not his usual huge grin, but a smaller softer sort of wonderful-filled smile and he pays attention to her dad as if he might be quizzed on the information later, still starts out not talking as much but--

“Okay, well tell me about,” her dad says. “Oh, do you think--?” And “Wait, I want to hear what it was like to--”

*^*^*^

“Your dad is really nice,” Reggie tells her one day. He says it right as they are starting rehearsal and doesn’t really look at her when he says it, looks more somewhere over her left shoulder and he is basically running away towards his mic stand but still…

It makes her smile.

*^*^*^

“Come play with me,” Carlos asks her, throwing his ball in the air.

“Where’s dad?” Julie responds. This is usually her dad’s territory. Whatever talents she had in singing and music and sort of dancing do not translate into sports.

“With Reggie,” Carlos says, throwing the ball up, tilting his head up to watch as it comes down and catches it. “They are talking about… I don’t know. Something. He said he’d be out but you know how they get.”

Julie does. And it doesn’t bother her but..

“Are you mad?” She asks, just to be certain. Carlos had been the only son. Still is. But also… “That they are hanging out so much?” Her brother is still young. Her brother maybe doesn’t--

“No,” Carlos says. “Not like I want to learn about cameras at all.”

Julie laughs.That’s true. And her dad sure can ramble.

“Also,” Carlos starts…. And then he is glancing at her and he is young and stupid and her ilttle brother, but when he looks up at her, he looks older and serious.

“Also, I think It’s nice. Reggie hanging out with Dad. I think he…”

He fiddles with his ball, but doesn’t throw it. “I think he probably needs that, you know?”

Julie did know, she just didn’t know that Carlos knew. And understood. And was willing to share Dad like that because he knew. She feels her face start heating up with pride.

“How did you--” she starts. Then stops. She knows how she figured it out and she had mostly relied on being able to see when Reggie was around and how he tried to stay away for so long and her conversation with Luke.

“Oh. Uh. Well, he started a stash of food in my room,” Carlos says. Julie blinks at him. “I went up there one day and he was shoving granola bars in a box in the back of my closet. That was already filled with other stuff.

“He was acting really weird. I mean, nervous and I dunno. I asked him why and he said it was always a good backup in case you couldn’t go downstairs and then I asked why I wouldn’t be able to go downstairs and I think he was embarrassed but still insisted it was safer and--”

Carlos shrugs. Flushes because he realizes he had been talking a hair too fast.

“I don’t know. It made him feel better so I kept it. And it honestly is sometimes easier than going all the way downstairs.”

“Carlos!”

“He has one in your room too!’ Carlos says, laughing. “Basket tucked under your bed, I think. I’m telling you, once you get used to access to rice krispy treats in the middle of the night…”

“Oh my god,” Julie says and they are laughing about this, because what else is there to do but…

“So it’s really okay,” Carlos says. “Plus I figure now you and me can play catch?” He turns on those big brown eyes for that last part and he is so good that Julie can barely stand it.

“Oh alright,” she makes sure to roll her eyes so he knows that she is not falling for him for a second. “Let me put my bag down.”

*^*^*^

The boys are not supposed to be on her computer (there has actually been talk of getting them their own computer to uphold this rule, but none of them really seem to have much interest in technology (besides TV) given that they can always just poof to whoever they need to talk to and force Julie to do the research for them) so it’s a surprise when Julie walks into her room and finds Reggie, glaring at the screen.

“Reggie!” she says, fully intending to yell at him. She has private things on there!

And then he looks up at her. He looks dark and serious and--

“Will you help me?” he asks. “I don’t know how-- this thing is so complicated.” And Reggie isn’t the one who will get frustrated-- that’s Alex when his anxiety gets to be too much or Luke when a song isn’t going well or even herself when having three rambunctious boys who can pop in on her literally any time gets to be a little much-- but he’s frustrated now.

“Okay,” she says, her earlier rant about privacy flying out of her head. “Okay, yes, let me help. What do you need to do?”

With the boys, it could be anything. Alex wants to watch videos of skateboarding so he can pretend he knows something about what Willie talks about, or there was the week he discovered Sense8 and then Luke really just wants to google guitars or also there was that week Julie tried to get him on music producing software and then he just wanted to read articles about how digital music was destroying the industry (like some old grandpa).

“I’m--” Reggie stops and stands. Takes a breath and blows it out. Julie waits. He looks somewhere toward the ceiling. “I’m trying to find my parents.”

Julie stills.

That is not what she was expecting.

“Oh,” she says and it’s a struggle but she keeps her voice carefully neutral. She also takes the moment to look down and see that Reggie has type “goo-gull” into the windows search bar.

He doesn’t add anything and so she sets herself to opening the real google and seeing what she can do. Contrary to popular belief, it can be a little hard to find people if they aren’t famous and have fairly common names.

“What are their names?” she asks and instead of answering, Reggie just passes her a piece of paper. It has their names on it. And what she assumes to be his old address. She senses the mood and doesn’t say anything else. At least he comes and sits next to her to see the search results pop up.

There are a lot of them.

“Don’t worry,” she says when she sees his eyes widen. “Even if I can’t do it today, I can put Flynn or-or my dad on it and I’m sure one of them can--”

“No,” Reggie says. “I don’t want-- not them.”

Julie nods and keeps scrolling. She doesn’t know what Reggie’s parents did for a living so she doesn’t know if some of these websites apply but she scrolls slowly and hopes he’ll tell her if he sees something.

After two pages, “Let’s switch to images,” she suggests. “Maybe you’ll see them.”

Reggie hesitates but then nods.

After some more silent scrolling, the silence gets to be too much -- “Why do you--?”

“There.”

Julie stops scrolling and, yes, there-- there’s something slightly familiar about that woman’s nose and the darkness of that man’s hair. She clicks to enlarge it, but it’s still a blurry picture, pulled onto google search from Facebook, if she had to guess and--

And she knows that you can’t really judge someone off of a photograph, especially not one that’s older and blurry but she…

They don’t look nice, she decides. Even though both of them are smiling. The smiles look tense and forced and they are standing a hair too far away from each other to be called close.

“That’s them,” Reggie tells her needlessly.

“Oh,” Julie says again. He doesn’t sound excited. He sounds… she doesn’t know what he sounds.

She waits, risks glancing at him to find he is still just staring. And the silence drags and then right- right as she knows she’s got to say something, anything--

“I thought it was normal,” Reggie finally says softly. “They. I thought they were normal. I mean… I thought everyone’s parents were that way.”

He’s still not looking at her. Still just staring at the screen.

“I mean… Luke fought all the time with his parents and Alex’s were just… always too religious and a bit off even before they knew and so I just assumed that everyone… you know.”

Julie did not know. Not really. Not at all.

“I knew they hated me,” he says and he finally glances over at her. He’s not crying, but his voice is tight and the nod he gives her is jerky. He looks away quickly. “For forcing them to get married. And for forcing them to stay together too, I guess, though… it wasn’t just…”

His leg is bouncing now. Jumping up and down even as his fist clenches and presses on top of it.

“It’s not even just that though,” and his voice rises now, almost desperate. “They hated me. They said I was loud and annoying and stupid and I… I thought that was normal. I thought they were right.”

He shoots up now, solid enough that her little table gets pushed back when his shin hits against it, but he doesn’t seem to notice and he swipes at his eyes, but he’s not crying. Just red and Julie’s almost crying, she realizes, but she’s also tense and her stomach hurts and she doesn’t know what to do.

“They were my parents and they hated me and I thought-- I thought that was normal. That everyone would always hate--” He cuts off and Julie opens her mouth again but she doesn’t know what to say. The boys… the boys are young and happy and they are all an open book, even when they try not to be, but now… Now Reggie clenches his jaw and stops himself. The boys never stop themselves.

“It wasn’t right though,” Reggie says and he’s angry now. More angry than Julie’s seen anyone. “It wasn’t fair. What they did. Making me feel… yelling at me all the time and-and sending me to bed without dinner so often that I- I fucking thought everyone snuck snacks into their room and shoving me around and even when they were happy, I just knew it could turn so quickly, that even one mistake could just ruin everything and I- I-”

He cuts off, breathing hard.

“Reggie--” Julie starts. She stands but he takes a step away from her so she stills.

“It wasn’t fair,” he says and he’s quieter now but it doesn’t feel calmer. He meets her eyes and his are wet. “I just don’t get how they could-- why they--”

“It wasn’t fair,” Julie agrees and this time when she comes closer, he doesn’t move. So she gets to put a hand on his shoulder and breaths a small sigh of relief that he is solid right now.

“I had to die, Jules,” he says, looking at her again finally. And this is… being dead is something the boys rarely acknowledge in a real way. It’s usually a joke or an offhand comment or their comeback for why they shouldn’t have to help her with calculus. It’s not this. Soft and serious and then followed by a dark chuckle. “I literally had to fucking die to figure out that they were bad parents. And I bet-- I bet they were glad.”

Julie opens her mouth to say that of course they weren’t, that any parent would be heartbroken, that he can’t know that but--

But she doesn’t know them. She doesn’t know if that is true.

“Well,” she starts but Reggie backs away and cuts her off.

“I have to go,” he announces. And then he glances at her and realizes she’s crying and maybe realizes what just happened because he runs his hand through his hair and guilt enters his eyes but “Sorry,” he says. “Sorry about-- You weren’t supposed to-- I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Julie tries, but he’s already gone.

*^*^*^

Her first instinct is to run and get Luke and Alex, to tell them to poof to all the most likely spots for Reggie to be, to tell them everything that had happened and then maybe run and tell her dad too for good measure and to probably cry a little more but she--

She doesn’t.

She doesn’t know what stops her or why instead of yelling and rushing down the stairs, she takes a breath and falls back onto her couch, but… that’s what she does.

She falls back and stares at the picture she’d found a little longer and--

I hate you, she thinks. You didn’t deserve him.

And then she closes the tab without saving it.

And she doesn’t tell anybody.

*^*^*^

Reggie is a little late to rehearsal that day, but not enough to attract much notice.

He comes in cautious though. Julie sees it, since she knows to look for it.

He poofs up outside the garage and then slowly walks in and he’s waiting, she sees, for someone to say something or act weird or for them to all stop talking at once in an obvious display of “we were just talking about your breakdown earlier.” He’s tense and cautious and--

“Dude, awesome,” Luke says in greeting, waving a hand at him. “You’re here. We can get started. I think I have a killer idea for a harmony echo thing in the chorus of--”

Reggie looks suspicious for a beat longer, eyes flicking between Julie and Luke and then Alex, but Alex is too busy trying out a new spin move with his drumsticks to really be paying much attention and Luke is still droning on about his latest idea and Julie just gives him a smile. And a nod. And hopes that her eyes convey she didn’t actually say anything.

She knows it was the right call when the tension leaves Reggie’s shoulders.

Reggie gives her a smile and a nod and then they all do what they do best.

They play.

*^*^*^

That night, Julie spots her dad alone (actually alone) on the couch, fiddling with something on his laptop, and when they were playing music together, she didn’t think about it but now it all comes rushing back.

The hurt and the anger in his voice and the fact that she didn’t know what to say or do and it was the right call, not to tell anyone Reggie’s private business, she thinks, but she suddenly feels very sad again and the only thing for it is to plop down next to her dad and curl into his side.

He hums in greeting and keeps his eyes on his screen and she just enjoys it. His warmth and smell and marvels in the fact that he is always there. That she can always do this. That she has a dad who will always let her sit with him and who has to be coached into being angry and just loves her so damn much.

“Honey?” he says and he’s closing the laptop to twist and look at her. There is concern in his eyes. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and trying to ignore the heat behind her eyes that tells her she might cry. “Nothing’s wrong. I just-- It’s been a long day.”

“Too much practice?” he says.

“No, not that. Just… you know. One of those days.”

“Oh okay,” he says and then he’s lifting his arm so he can wrap it around her and squeeze her more firmly into his side. “Okay.”

They sit for a long moment, just breathing and Reggie should do this, she thinks, just sit and be calm and be held and she hopes one day, he does. That he is solid enough and comfortable enough and maybe he can’t tuck all that way into her dad’s side like she can but he should still… he should still try. One day.

She knows her dad would let him.

“Thank you,” she says. “For being such a good dad.”

Her dad’s soft laugh answers her. “Well, you know that’s my job.”

“Yeah, but… also for everything else too. With the band and the music program and for-for being so good to Re-- the boys. All the boys.”

She doesn’t know if he hears the name she almost said, but he tilts his head as if he knows. He probably does somehow.

“They’re great kids,” is what he says instead.

“Still,” she insists. “I know it’s a lot. But they- he- just thank you.”

He looks at her for a long moment and finally nods.

“Anytime.”

*^*^*^

“Thanks,” Reggie says, the next day, drifting over to where she is resting on the couch while Alex and Luke get into a semi-argument, semi-productive debate on a certain rhythm. “For not saying anything to the guys.”

“No problem,” she says. “But if you want to talk more or--”

“No, no,” he says, waving a hand as if that is going to make her forget the entire thing. “It’s not a big deal. It’s--”

“Reggie.” She says it firmly. She says it and then waits until he actually looks at her. “It is a big deal. Your parents were-- They were wrong and mean and fucking horrible and if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your right and I won’t say anything. But it is a big deal. Your feelings are a big deal. You are a big deal. So talk to me or to my dad or to no one but don’t tell me it’s not a big deal.”

Reggie blinks at her and Julie flushes. But doesn’t back down. Keeps glaring at him.

“Uh. Okay,” Reggie says. “I- I will. Or I won’t. Tell you that.”

“Good,” Julie says, nodding once. And then Alex and Luke turn back to them and it seems they have compromised (Or maybe Alex won and Luke is just saying they compromised) and they’re back to it.

*^*^*^

As far as Julie knows, he doesn’t talk about it. At least, not with her.

But, gradually, he stops hesitating before announcing himself to her dad and he starts buzzing with the same kind of energy that he does in the garage in the house and, then later, she goes downstairs for a late night snack and Carlos is there too, half-heartedly complaining that his stash has run out and he had grown accustomed to a certain style of living and--

“Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray Ray RayRay,” Reggie says, running into the house, tripping over his own feet somehow and skidding into the counter, knocking over the fruit bowl in the process. Her dad idly straightens it with one hand, the other reaching out to collect the apples and oranges that had rolled everywhere but Reggie grabs it and pulls. “You gotta see this, there’s a bird and the light-- bring your camera!”

“A bird?” her dad says, and he sounds a bit doubtful but he is already grabbing his camera.

“Huge bird,” Reggie says, waving his hands as if to indicate. “Biggest bird ever. I think it’s a condor!”

“A condor! A California condor??” her dad’s eyes go huge and then he’s throwing one camera at Reggie and grabbing another out of a drawer and there are apples and oranges everywhere and her dad almost brains himself stepping on one and flying forward but Reggie catches him and suddenly, Julie is in the kitchen by herself, surrounded by fruit, staring at a pancake her dad was supposed to flip.

She rolls her eyes and smiles to herself and grabs the spatula.

She doesn’t think they’re coming back any time soon.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #my fic #reggie #ray molina #julie molina #fanfiction #bullet point fic #but it is 7k #also yes i just pulled the title from finally free #it seemed to fit

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melisa-may-taylor72 · 4 years

Photo

QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

PART 1:

BRIAN MAY, 1984 & THE LEFT HANDED MARRIAGE

JOHN S. STUART AND ANDY DAVIS DIG DEEP TO UNCOVER THE PREVIOUSLY UNDOCUMENTED AUDIO LEGACY OF ONE OF THE WORLD’S MOST CHERISHED BANDS.

This month the beginning and end of Queen come together like the cosy ending of a contrived Hollywood drama. While fans wait with bated breath for the band’s final album, “Made In Heaven" — completed by Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor with the aid of Freddie Mercury’s last demos — author Mark Hodkinson launches a new book in which, in greater detail than has ever been attempted before, delves into the pre-fame histories of Queen’s musical antecedents.

With previously unpublished photographs of Roger Taylor's the Reaction, John Deacon’s the Opposítion and even more impressively, Freddie Mercury’s Sour Milk Sea, ‘Queen The Early Years’ is a treat fans have waited too long to read. Coincidentally, six months ago, we commissioned Queen historian, John S. Stuart, to research the definitive article on the band’s pre-fame recordings, and as you’ll see, the results complement Hodkinson’s broader picture with hitherto undocumented details of Queen's 60s recordings.

We've touched on Larry Lurex and Smile before, of course, but the vinyl output of those two acts barely scratches the surface, so to speak: literally hours and hours of privately- recorded material of Freddie, Brian, John and Roger survive to this day — as evidenced by the recent discovery of the Reaction’s ‘In The Midnight Hour’ acetate ( see RC 191). So, while the rest of the world comes to terms with the fact that Queen’s recording career is effectively at an end, we unravel the untold history of four individuals' first tentative steps in front of the microphone, beginning with the 1960′s exploits of Brian May. Next month, we’ll embrace Smile, and John, Roger and Freddie's hidden amateur recordings; but first, 1984 and the Left Handed Marriage.

1984

Around late August, or early September 1963, as the Beatles celebrated the birth of Beatlemania with sessions for their “With The Beatles” LP at EMI’s Abbey Road Studios in North London, another rock legend was developing just around the geographical corner. In a semi-detached house in Feltham, Middlesex, electronics engineer Harold May began an 18-month task, helping his sixteen-year-...[ ]

[ ]...old son, Brian, to construct the world's most famous home-made guitar, the ‘Red Special'. In the mean time, Brian would have to be content with thrashing away at the small Spanish acoustic his parents had bought him for his seventh birthday. (Brian evidently mislaid this childhood guitar shortly afterwards; and didn't see it again until 1991, when at a ‘reunion’ of former members of 1984, his schoolfriend and first musical collaborator, Dave Dilloway, returned it to him. Brian was so thrilled, that he featured the guitar in the video for Queen’s “Headlong" single).

By 1964, Brian and Dave Dilloway were already recording amateur duets together, and by linking up their two reel-to-reel tape docks, they discovered that they could lay down guitars on one machine, and perhaps bass, percussion and sometimes vocals on the other. Although the technique was crude, and despite the occasional disaster, the effect was often surprisingly good. One of the earliest tapes from these primitive recording sessions survives to this day, and features Brian belting out Bo Diddley’s eponymous R&B standard, "Bo Diddley".

“This is a mono quarter-inch, reel-to-reel I found buried among various other oddments from the era”, recalls Dave Dilloway. “It certanly dates from before the formation of 1984. It was recorded in Brian’s back room in Feltham, with Brian on lead vocals and guitar, and myself on bass and drums. The track is basic, but Brian’s vocals are clear and recognisable. The guitar playing is fairly basic as well, but competent, without any real solos as such”.

“ This is the only tape in my collection of those double-track recordings. I’m unsure whether Brian himself has retained the tapes we made at the time, but I believe he usually ended up with the finished versions, so he may still heve them somewhere.”

The duo also recorded four-track instrumental cover versions of several Shadows tunes — “Apache”, “FBI”, "Wonderful Land” and "The Rise And Fall Of Fingel Blunt” — as well as “Rambunkshush”, which they learned from the Shadows’ American counterparts, The Ventures. Also on the same tape is their reading of Chet Atkins' “Windy And Warm".

Yet another reel reveals an attempt at Cliff Richard’s "Bachelor Boy", on which Brian, once again, takes the lead vocal. Dave Dilloway's theory is probably correctt; May is known to have a meticulously catalogued personal collection of Queen (and pre-Queen) recordings and memorabilia, which almost certanlly contains unfathomable reels of similar early material.

In the autumn of 1964, Brian and Dave formed a rapidly-evolving band, through which many schoolmates passed, but which eventually settled with a line-up of bassist John 'Jag' Garnham, drummer Richard Thompson, and harmonica-playing vocalist Tim Staffell. After rejecting names such as the Mind Boggles and Bob Chappy & the Beetles, the quintet named themselves after George Orwell’s futuristic novel ‘1984’. Their look was far from sci-fi, however, and they happily adopted the classic, clean-cut beat- group look of the day: jackets, or in Brian's case a cardigan, and narrow trousers; and beat boots. Tim Staffell even acquired that year’s fashion accessory, a pork-pie hat.

The band rehearsed regularly at Chase Bridge Primary School Hall in Twickenham (located next to the rugby ground), and on the 28th October 1964, gave their first public performance at the nearby St. Mary’s Church Hall. It is believed that either one of the rehearsals, or the gig itself, was recorded, but unfortunately, no tape of this debut, performance has survived the years. Although 1984 recorded almost all of their live concerts for their own critical appraisal, to save on the expense of new tape they often wiped over old reels once they’d listened to them. Nevertheless, evidence of Brian May playing live does survive from this period, and the earliest example dates from an unknown gig (Shepperton Rowing Club is the favoured consensus), recorded in late 1965. This wasn’t a 1984 performance, but rather an ad-hoc trio comprising Brian May on bass and vocals, Pete ‘Woolly’ Hammerton (a school friend of Brian’s) on guitar and vocals, and 1984's Richard Thompson on drums. The tape reveals the trio turning in versions of Martha & the Vandellas’ “Dancing In The Street", the Beatles' “Eight Days A Week”, “I’m Taking Her Home” — a song by the group Woolly later joined, the Others — and a brave attempt at the Who’s "My Generation".

The Others comprised older boys from Hampton School, who in October 1964 had issued a single of their abrasive reading of Bo Diddley’s “Oh Yeah", backed by “I’m Taking Her Home", on Fontana (TF 501). “That was good!" claims singer, Tim Staffell. “I’ve still got that record buried somewhere deep in my mind — I remember the singer, Paul Stewart's voice and the quality of the guitar sound. The Others were a pretty significant influence. Maybe not in terms of the music, more in the sense that they were already doing it, which proved it was possible."

As evidenced by the photograph included in this feature, the Others clearly had attitude, something which 1984, or Tim Staffell at least, could only aspire to “If I had tried to push 1984 in any direction," reveals Tim, “then that would have been it. Without hearing any of these tapes of our band — and I didn't even know they existed! — l’d say we probably sounded a lot safer than the Others. Mind you, they were different to us. Their guitar style was very much inspired by American R&B, whereas Brian’s never was. Brian was a unique guitar player: he was able to extemporise a much more original way than most guitar players could. I hope he’ll forgive me for saying so, but I never perceived him as having the dangerous image which was necessary at the time — the cardigan says it all!.

LIGHTWEIGHT

“In retrospect, 1984 was lightweight, a bit fluffy” concedes Tim. “It was impossible not to be naively ambitious — that was part and parcel of it — and the primary motivation to do it was what we saw in the media as the end results of success. But I guess we were realistic about it — we were at school, after all. Also there was a good deal of pressure in the 60s from our parents, and the conservative generation, to conform."

Although a version of “I’m Taking Her Home” by 1984 was captured live on the Shepperton tape, and Brian occasionally guested with the Others on stage, it's worth stating once and for all that — despite the persistent rumours — he definitely doesn’t feature on "Oh Yeah". In fact, Pete ‘Woolly' Hammerton doesn't even play on the record — he only joined the band formally later on.

In the autumn of 1965, leaving Hampton Grammar with no fewer than four 'A' Levels and ten ‘O’ levels, Brian enrolled at Imperial College in Kensington, London, to read physics and infra-red astronomy. Before breaking up for the Christmas holidays that year, he played the first in a series of gigs with 1984 at the college, a tradition he continued later with Smile, and in their formative days with Queen. Although the exact date of the event has long since been forgotten, a very poor- quality tape still exists of 1984‘s college debut. The set was a typical one, comprising the group’s broad blend of pop, R&B and soul covers, and included the following songs: “Cool Jerk" (originally by the Capitols), ‘Respect" (Otis Redding), "My Girl" (the Temptations), “Shake" (Sam Cooke), “Stepping Stone" (the Monkees), “You Keep Me Hanging On" (the Supremes), “Whatcha Gonna Do Ahout it" ( Small Faces), “Substitute” (the Who), “How Can It Be” (the B-side of the Birds’ final single, “No Good Without You Baby”), “Dancing In The Street", “Dream" (Everly Brothers) and the Small Faces’ "Sha La La La Lee".

“Our repertoire was a little too eclectic to have developed into any particular style” reckons Tim Staffell. “But the Small Faces were quite influential. When we were at school, the songs were dredged from all sorts of areas. I’d always liked rhythm’n’blues. Brian’s input would have been Beatles-orientated, Dave’s as well. Richard Thompson would have been more into R&B, and Jag didn't really have an agenda as far as songs were concerned. Because of the nature of the material we covered, our approach to the gigs was almost schoollboy cabaret. 1984 was not a dangerous, moody rock band! Which may have something to do with the way Queen evolved."

1984 oponed 1966 with a couple of gigs at the Thames Rowing CIub in Putney; and once again, a tape recorder was set up to document the group’s progress. Two reels from January that year exist: the first is dated the 15th, and features “Im A Loser” (the Beatles), “I Wish You Would" ( the Yardbirds), “I Feel Fine" (the Beatles), “Little Egypt" (the Coasters), "Lucille” (Little Richard), “Too Much Monkey Business" (Chuck Berry), "I Got My Mojo Working” (Muddy Waters), "WalkingThe Dog” ( Rufus Thomas) and “Heart Full Of Soul" (the Yardbirds).

The second, dated two weeks later (29th January), demonstrates the great variety and confidence of a band which consistently renewed its repertoire. The show began with Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City", moving into the Cookies' “Chains" (popularised by the Beatles), “Walking The Dog", “Lucille", “Our Little Rendezvous" (Chuck Berry), “Jack O’ Diamonds" (Blind Lemon... (cont)

(cont) Jefferson, popularised by Lonnie Donegan), “I’ve Got My Mojo Working”, “Little Egypt" and Bo Diddley’s “I’m A Man”. The band’s finale was a versión of Sonny Boy Williamson’s "Bye Bye Bird".

For an amateur band with little real pretension towards stardom, or even a serious attempt at securing a recording contract, a staggering amount of live 1984 material has been preserved on tape. Dave Dilloway, for instance, is the guardian of a seven-inch reel-to-reel, which he says reveals either a very long performance or a compilation of various unknown dates.

Either way, the tape is divided into five distinct sections, which might make tedious reading, but is an invaluable reference: 1) “Route 66", (unknown instrumental), “I’m Taking Her Home", “Too Much Monkey Business’, “Yesterday" (featuring Brian May on lead vocals), “Walking The Dog", and “ Lucille"; 2) “Little Rendezvous", "Keep On Running”, “I Feel Fine”, “Walking The Dog”, “Jack O’ Diamonds", “High Heeled Sneakers", “I Want To Hold Your Hand", “I Got My Mojo Working*, and “I Should Have Known Better”; 3) “Little Rendezvous", “Jump Back Baby Jump Back", “I Feel Fine”, “Bye Bye Bird", “Little Egypt", “Crazy House". “Lucille”, “Oh Yeah”, “Heatwave”, “Too Much Monkey Business", “I Should Have Known Better", and “I Got My Mojo Working"; 4) “My Generation", “Little Egypt", “Dancing In The Street", “Whatcha Gonna Do About It", “I’m A Man", “Heatwave", “Lucille", and “Bye Bye Bird"; and 5) “Heart Full Of Soul", “Too Much Monkey Business”, “Something’s Got A Hold On Me", “Keep On Running", “My Generation", "Tired Of Waiting", “Bright Lights. Big City" and “Happy Hendrick’s Polka".

“These are all domestic quality, single microphone recordings of early-era 1984", reveals Dave Dilloway. “It's mostly bluesy material, with some soul and Beatles songs. While the quality is basic, the sound is intelligible, although there isn’t a large amount of identifiable Brian guitarwork. That came later in the band's history, when we included covers of Crearn and Hendrix. Brian's solo vocals on 'Yesterday' (on the first segment) are quite clear, however."

For much of 1966, the band carried on in a similar vein — Brian's and the others' college work permitting, of course. For Brian May and his unsigned, Twickenham-based covers band, the highlight of the following year, 1967, was undoubtedly the gig he secured via through his contacts at the college — supporting Jimi Hendrix at Imperial. The date was 13th May, the day after the release of Hendrix's debut, “Are You Experienced". Brian May idolised Hendrix to such an extent that he'd been nicknamed “Brimi" — a combination of the two guitarists' names—so although 1984 had seen him perform before, it goes without saying they were thrilled when backstage, they actually bumped into the ascending star as they filed past his dressing-room. It’s a familar story, but it's one worth repeating: Jimi enquired memorably, “Which way’s the stage, man?*.

BLOSSOMED

1984's act had certainly blossomed by this point. Their attire was now obligatory Swinging London — or Swinging Middlesex — fare: frilly shirts, Regency jackets, striped hipsters secured with a white belt, and hairtyles extending inexorably over the ears, and indeed the eyes. “Somewhere along the line, there was an external influence there", says Tim Staffell. “There was someone calling the shots. I don’t think all that was self-motivated. It’s something I’ve never been comfortable with, which explains why I split away from it early on — certainly from Smile onwards — because it was going that way; as indeed it ended up with Queen. It's fair enough, but that sort of flamboyance is just not me. I look fairly uncomfortable in the picture of the band from that period. My idea of a rock musician is one with hair down his back, a dirty pair of Levi's on, looking at the floor, thoroughly unconcerned with the visual and external trappings, playing the most extraordinary virtuoso guitar. That was my attitude."

Back in February 1967, Brian’s local paper, the ‘Middlesex Chronicle’ caught up with the band, and captured Tim Staffell in an equally decisive mood; although here, he was more enthusiastic about the latest trend. "Psychodelic music is certainly here to stay”~he claimed. "It makes more of music than mere sound, it makes it a whole and complete art form." Dave Dilloway, who also handled the group's light show, added: “We use everything in our act, including things like shaving foam, and plastic bricks we throw around”.

The ‘Chronicle’ was obviously impressed, and its reporter had this to say about a performance by what it called “one of the most foward-looking groups today". “Standards, like ‘Heatwave' receive a very original treatment, mostly due to the sounds that Brian coaxes out of his guitar. Jazz chords and electronic sounds add feeling and nuance to numbers that are often churned out wholesale. Using two bass drums for a fuller sound, Richard's drumming, combined with the full bass riffs of Dave and the steady (rhythm guitar) work of John, provides a firm basis for experiments in sound — an opportunity which is not wasted."

“To be quite honest with you, there’s more substance in the literary content there, than in the musical," laughs Tim Staffell. "If someone genuinely thought that, then I'm surprised! Brian might have used a fuzz-box. but generally, it was au naturel. I remember in the Smile days, somebody wrote about ‘humming chords of wonder’, referring to my bass playing. The reality of it was that sometimes I did try and play chords on the bass guitar, which might have come out as a deep-throated roar, but actually sounded like a load of crap!"

“We did use to tickle about with a few lights, suggests Dave Dilloway, “but being a local band, money was tight and there wasn’t a fortune to spend on the band." As to 1984's psychodelic sound, Dave adds: “Brian did use a bit of fuzz, yes, and Pink Floyd influences and a bit of screaming guitar. He’d actually built a fuzz box into his guitar, which was fairly unique for the day, but typical Brian. If you look carefully at recent pictures of his “Red Special” you can see the fuzz switch taped over."

In September 1967, no doubt boosted by their praise — sincere or not — in the local press, the continuing evidence of their performance tapes and their recent Hendrix support slot, 1984 entered the local beats of a battle-of-the-bands competition at the Top...[ ]

...[ ] Rank Club in Croydon, just south of London. Effectively a promotion for Scotch tape, entrance to the contest could only be secured via a demo recorded on a Scotch reel. 1984’s effort duly arrived in the form of a two-track master, featuring covers of Marvin Gaye's “Ain’t That Peculiar?" and the Everly Brothers’ “Crying ln The Rain" (on stage, both tracks were usually enhanced by characteristic Brian May guitar solos, but conservatism prevailed, and they were absent in this instance). A copy of this recording still survives, carefully guarded by the custodian of the 1984 archive. “This tape is a quarter-inch, mono reel-to-reel," recalIs Dave Dilloway. “Tim took lead vocals on 'Ain't That Peculiar?’, and Tim and Brian duetted on ’Crying ln The Rain’. Brian's vocal style and tone can be clearly discerned, if one knows his voice. The songs were recorded in single takes, using a single microphone fed directly to the recorder. There was no mix facility so it has a ‘live' feel, a very good clean sound”.

The mix was achieved using the old fashioned technique of microphone position and relative volume levels of the amplified Instruments. “As far as I am aware, only the one (master) copy of this tape exists.”

As has been well-documented, after two sets at the competition (one of which saw Brian, Dave, John Garnham and drummer Richard Thompson acting as the back-up band for a singer called Lisa Perez), 1984 won the contest, and walked away with a reel of blank tape (Scotch, of course) and an album each on the CBS label. (Tim took the top prize, Simon & Garfunkel’s “Sounds Of Silence", Brian had to make do with a Barbra Streisand LP, and Dave Dilloway became the proud owner of an album by Irish bandleader Tommy Makem!). More importantly, their demo tape was forwarded to the CBS A&R department for the national showdown, although, clearly, they didn’t win.

True to form, 1984's performance that evening was committed to tape — for an unpublished review by ‘Melody’ Maker, no less — but was probably erased shortly afterwards. The twenty-minute set consisted of the Everlys’ "So Sad", Hendrix’s “Stone Free”, Buddy Knox’s “She’s Gone" and Eddie Floyd's “Knock On Wood". After the gig, the band were invited by a visiting promotor to participate in the all-night gala event which has since gone down as one of the key gigs of the London underground scene: Christmas On Earth Continued, at London's Olympia Theatre, on December 23rd 1967. 1984 was the lowest profile act at this decidedly high-profile event, and after Jimi Hendrix, Traffic, Pink Floyd, the Herd, and Tyrannosaurus Rex had all taken to the stage, they only got to perform their humble set of covers at 5 o’clock in the morning. When Brian finally plugged in his ‘Red Special’, 1984 played a thirty-minute set to a very small, and less than enthusiastic, audience.

Also from 1967, and of far more interest, is 1984′s professionally-recorded Thames Television demo tape. During his first-year of study at Twickenham Technical College, Dave Dilloway had made friends with a number of technicians, or trainee technicians, at the Teddington-based ITV company which served the London area. The station had recently invested in new recording equipment, and rather than hire professional musicians at the usual union rate, in a set up similar to the first Queen sessions at the De Lane Lea studios, 1984 were let loose in the studio to record at their leisure. Dave Dilloway's carefully preserved tape still plays perfectly, and includes the following songs: "Hold On I’m Corning", “Knock On Wood“, “NSU", *How Can It Be”, two early run-throughs of the original May/ Staffell composition “Step On Me” (which eventually became the B- side to Smile's “Earth"), “Purple Haze", “Our Love Is Driftin* ”, and medleys of “Remember”/”Sweet Wine" and “Get Out My Life Woman”/ ”Satisfaction". The session ended with a run-through of "My Girl”.

AMALGAM

"What an extraordinary amalgam!" declares Tim Staffell today. “There’s Tamla, Cream, Hendrix, Lee Dorsey . . ‘Our Love Is Driftin' we’d have heard by Paul Butterfield. I’d forgotten there was such a large soul component in 1984!".

Dave Dilloway has the technical details: “This tape is the most recent, best and most representative of 1984 that I'm aware of. It is mono, but since it was made on good quality TV studio equipment and was carried out along the lines of a proper studio recording, with separately-mixed microphones for each source, it is remarkably good quality for its age. The material, except for ‘Step On Me', is aII cover versions, but as it dates from the late 1984 era, Brian’s playing is more prominent and effective, with his own style starting to show through. All the performances are competent — particularly Tim’s vocals and Brian's guitar; although the mix is a little heavy on John's rhythm guitar for some reason, probably the ‘ear’ of the recording engineer at the time. All tracks were laid down in one take, i.e., no overdubbing at all, so the sound is predominantly simple, as per our live versions."

And that was 1984′s swansong. In the spring of 1968, shortly afler the Thames recording, mainly due to the pressures of infrequent meetings and university studies — coupled with increasing musical differences — 1984 scaled down their operations drastically. Brian May left the band, and Tim Staffell took over on lead guitar for a while. A little later, Tim himself quit, leaving Dave Dilloway, John Garnham and Richard Thompson to rebuild the group, which soldiered on into the 70′s, content merely to play for fun. They all conceded that 1984 had been a good, solid, and popular local band, but that it didn’t have the necessary spark or originality to transform into a great one.

The Left Handed Marriage

ln the summer of 1965, in another corner of Hampton Grammar School, Brian May’s old friend Bill Richards (who had been a fleeting, early member of 1984 before it acquired its futuristic name), and his colleagues Jenny Hill (née Rusbridge), Henry Deval and Terry Goulds, formed a folk-rock band called the Left-Handed Marriage, named after an archaic form of marrying beneath oneself. By January 1967, the quartet had progressed to the point where they had issued their own privately-pressed album, “On The Right Side Of The Left Handed Marriage", which ran to just fifty copies (and, incidentally, has since acquired cult status among collectors, with a £600 price tag to match).

Although naturally familiar with the album, Brian May as yet had not been involved with the band. That changed in March 1967, after Bill signed a twelve-month contract with EMI's music publishing company Ardmore & Beechwood — a deal secured through the efforts of Brian Henderson, a former member of Edinburgh beat outfit the Mark Five, and more recently, the bassist in Patrick Campbell- Lyons' 60′s psychodelic band, Nirvana. Bill approached Brian to help him create a “fuller" sound for the Left Handed Marriage, with a request to provide guitar and backing vocals on some recording sessions.

On the understanding that the project wouldn’t interfere with his commitment to 1984, Brian agreed. On 4th April 1967, he joined Jenny, Henry, Terry and Bill in AMC Sound, an amateur studio in Manor Road, Twickenham, to record four songs: “Give Me Time” (later changed to “I Need Time"), "She Was Once My Friend", “Sugar Lump Girl” and “Yours Sincerely” (which was basically “Give Me Time" backwards, with new lyrics pinched from the Russian author Pushkin).

The songs were all cleanly-recorded, melodic atempts at 1967 pop (despite the Left Handed Marriage's later classification, there's little actual folk music in evidence). “She Was Once My Friend" is the pick of the bunch, thanks to its Kinks-like structure — complete with Bill Richard's/ Ray Davies-soundalike vocal and, albeit way down in the mix, flashes of that distinctive Brian May 'Red Special’ guitar sound. Acetates of the AMC EP were cut, and the idea had been to release the songs as a commercial EP. Instead, the set merely became the Left Handed Marriage’s first demo for their publishers, although it did lead to the offer to record at a more professional session — at EMI’s prestigious Abbey Road studios.

The Abbey Road session took place on 28th June 1967, when Left Handed Marriage were joined by Brian and 1984′s Dave Dilloway, who was drafted in to play bass. Two further tracks were cut: the reworked “I Need Time",...[ ]

...[ ] and a new song called “Appointment". At this stage, there was more talk of issuing a record, this time a single, and a release date of August was even discussed. This never materialised either, and again 7″ acetates are all that remain.

Although Ardmore & Beechwood were pleased with the results, they still thought the Left Handed Marriage could improve their sound even further, and on 31st July 1967, they booked the band into another studio, this time Regent Sound in central London. As Dave Dilloway was not available, another friend, John Frankel, was called upon to play bass and piano. The eight-track Regent Sound machine was something of a technological marvel, and the session was flawlessly recorded, resulting in new versions of “I Need Time”, “She Was Once My Friend" (which also remixed and edited for the abandoned single), and "Appointment".

Despite the studio quality of the tape, Ardmore & Beechwood failed to place the songs with a record label, and like so many groups before and since, the Left Handed Marriage quietly disappeared from view. It was left to frontman Bill Richards belatedly to issue the fruits of this last session, when in February 1993, he tagged the three Regent Sound recordings — the final mix of “I Need Time”, the abridged version of “She Was Once A Friend Of Mine” and the final mix of “Appointment” — onto the end of “Crazy Chain”, a CD recorded by the reformed Left Handed Marriage, which itself was prompted by collector's interest in the group’s original 1967 LP, “The Right Hand Side Of...” . Most of the master tapes for the LHM recordings featuring Brian May have Iong since disappeared along with the Regent Sound studio, and (with the exception of "She Was Once My Friend") the Richards/May collaborations on the CD were digitally remastered from acetates.

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 195, NOVEMBER 1995

➡NEXT: ROGER TAYLOR’S REACTION

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#Queen Before Queen #Pre-Queen Series #Brian May #Tim Staffell #1984 #The Left Handed Marriage #🎤🎵🎸👑⭐

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dccomicsimagines · 4 years

Text

You are in Love - Tim Drake x Reader

Requested by azul23blue - Hi! Do you write song fics? If you do could you write a Tim Drake x Reader with the song "You Are In Love" by Taylor Swift?

***

One look, dark room Men just for you Time moved too fast You played it back

Tim sighed, leaning against the wall as the people mingled around the ballroom in front of him. He rolled his shoulders and suppressed a yawn. Galas were never his thing, but since it was a Wayne Foundation fundraiser, he had to attend. He took a drink from a waiter’s passing tray when he saw you.

You were on the dance floor with Dick Grayson. Tim’s eyes widened as he saw Dick was smiling. He spun you around, making you laugh. You were so beautiful when you laughed. Tim’s heart sank. Dick already charmed you.

Tim downed his glass in his misery as the song ended. You and Dick left the dance floor. Tim tensed when he saw you both heading toward him.

“Hey Timmers, you mind taking care of (Y/N) for me? I got to go mingle with the old money,” Dick said, flashing Tim a knowing smile. Tim frowned, wondering if Dick was up to something.

“Hi,” you said shyly. Tim’s heart skipped a beat when you gave him a halfhearted wave.

Realizing he should say something, Tim cleared his throat. “Sure. Hi.”

Dick chuckled, walking away. You leaned against the wall next to Tim. Tim’s entire body threatened to burst into flames. Damn Dick for doing this to him.

A waiter came by again. Tim put his empty glass on the tray and took another one. He took a sip before he realized he should have taken one for you and quickly grabbed another glass as the waiter left. The drink sloshed dangerously close to the edge. “Here.” He choked, handing it to you without looking at you.

“Thank you.” You laughed. It rang appealingly in his ears. He sneaked a glance at you only to find you looking back at him. You winked, and Tim lost his heart to you all at once.

***

Buttons on a coat Light hearted joke No proof not much But you saw enough

“Look at this place,” you gasped, walking ahead of Tim. “It’s beautiful.” You spun back to look at him. Tim’s heart fluttered at how good you looked in his suit coat.

“Gotham always is at night. At least from far away.” Tim reached out to take your hand as you both stood next to the railing of the roof.

You hummed, squeezing his hand. “I only moved here a month ago, and I’ve only went from my apartment to work and back.” Your other hand played with the buttons on his suit coat. “Tonight is the first night I’ve been out.”

“You picked an interesting place for your first night out,” Tim chuckled. Once he got over his nervousness, being with you was easy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation with someone that wasn’t about patrol or case solving.

“I had to come for work.” You let go of his hand to lean against the railing, looking out at the view. Tim watched you, awed. “I started to get harassed by Mr. Elliot when Dick asked me to dance.”

Tim snorted. “I thought you were Dick’s date.”

Your laughter filled the air as you turned to face him, pulling Tim’s suit coat tighter around you. “No. He was just being nice to me.” Relief washed over Tim. You weren’t interested in Dick. “What do you do for fun?”

Tim jumped. “Not much.” He bit his lip, torn between wanting to impress you. “I’m working on rebuilding my computer.” It was the bat computer, but he couldn’t tell you that.

“Ooo, that sounds interesting.” You smirked. “I don’t know much about computers, but I do know not use "beef stew" as a computer password. It's not stroganoff.” You laughed when Tim blinked at you.

“Wow, that’s good.” He chuckled once he pushed aside his surprise. “I could help you sometime if you want?” His heart pounded like a bass drum.

“I think I’d like that.” You smiled. Tim’s heart skipped a beat. He felt like his life would never be the same.

***

Small talk, he drives Coffee at midnight, the light reflects The chain on your neck He says look up And your shoulders brush No proof, one touch You felt enough

Tim took a sip of his coffee as he drove toward the manor. You were beside him, drinking your own coffee. After helping you with your computer, Tim took you out for dinner. The spark between you hadn’t died, and long after dinner, you both drove around until it was midnight. Even then, neither of you wanted to leave. Tim bought the coffee and decided he’d take you to the manor to show you the gardens.

The manor came into view. “Wow, so you used to live here?” you gasped.

“Yeah, Bruce adopted me after my dad died. I lived here until I was eighteen, then I moved into the city. Not as long of a drive to work that way.” Tim smiled, putting himself in your shoes to see the manor as you saw it.

“Are you sure Mr. Wayne won’t mind us stopping by at midnight?” You took a long sip of your drink. Your eyes still studying the manor.

Tim bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “Oh, he’s not home. He’s a night owl.”

“Kinda like us, huh?” You got out of the car once Tim parked. Tim followed you.

The two of you only made it halfway to the garden before Alfred mysteriously appeared from around a corner. “Oh, Master Tim, I didn’t expect you here today,” Alfred said, eyeing you. You gave him a sheepishly wave. Tim reached back to take your hand.

“Sorry, I wanted to show (Y/N) the gardens.” He blushed when he saw Alfred eyeing your joined hands.

“Of course, enjoy yourselves.” Alfred smiled knowingly at Tim before slipping away. “It was nice to meet you, Mx. (Y/N).”

“It was nice to meet you too.” You blinked in surprise.

“He calls everyone that. It’s just what he does.” Tim chuckled, leading you outside. The garden was beautiful. Tim heard your breath being taken away. He squeezed your hand.

The two of you wandered the gardens, sipping at your coffees for a long time. Tim stopped you suddenly, nodding up at the sky. “Look up.”

“Woah, a shooting star,” you laughed in awe. Your shoulder brushed with his. Tim’s entire body jolted as if it was a spark of electricity. He looked at you, making a wish that this was the start of something wonderful where he would never be lonely again.

***

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you You can feel it on the way home, way home, you You can see it with the lights out, lights out You are in love, true love You are in love

Tim smiled, glancing over at you as you slept. He was driving you home from the manor. Part of him wanted to ask you to stay the night, but he knew it was too soon. Besides, he didn’t want your first meeting with Bruce and Damian to be after you spent the night.

The car was quiet. The only sound was your breathing, slow and even. Tim reached over to take your hand. In your sleep, you squeezed his hand back.

Once he parked outside your apartment building, he gently woke you up. You blinked. “Oh, did I fall asleep? I’m sorry.” You yawned, stretching.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Tim knew the smile on his face was dopey, but he didn’t care. “Do you want me to walk you in?”

You glanced at the building then back at Tim. “Sure.” Tim turned off the car, and got out. He came around to open your door. “Thank you.” You climbed out, yawning again. The two of you walked to the door. You entered your code and lead Tim inside. He wrapped his arm around you as you both entered the elevator.

“This was an amazing night,” Tim whispered. You rested your head on his shoulder. He loved the weight of it, the trust that came with it.

“It was.” You buried your nose into his shoulder, breathing deeply. “We should do this again.”

Tim’s heart threatened to burst. “How about the day after tomorrow? Give ourselves a day to see if we can stand each other.”

You laughed. The elevator doors opened and you both walked down the hall to your door. “Or to see how much we want to see each other again?” You paused outside of your door and took out your key. Unlocking your door, you turned back to Tim. “Call me.” You quickly kissed his lips before disappearing inside.

“Wow.” Tim chuckled, touching his lips with his hands. “I will.” He walked back to the elevator, yet every part of him didn’t want to leave.

***

Morning, his place Burnt toast, Sunday You keep his shirt He keeps his word

“Damn it,” Tim hissed as dark smoke floated out of the toaster. He ripped out the plugin and set the toaster out on the balcony before the fire alarm went off. “Maybe I should just order breakfast?” he mumbled to himself. He went back inside to grab his phone and opened the uber eats app.

“Good morning,” you yawned, coming out of Tim’s bedroom in only his shirt. Tim swallowed hard, focusing on his phone before you both ended up in the bedroom again. “What’s burning?”

“The toast.” Tim bit his lip nervously. “I was making you breakfast, but I failed and now I’m ordering it.”

You laughed, coming up to hug him from behind. Tim melted into your arms. “Thank you.” You kissed his cheek. “Where are you ordering from?”

“That one place where we met for lunch last week,” Tim said, turning to kiss your lips.

“Yum.” You pulled away to get a cup of coffee.

After breakfast, you got ready to leave. “Are you still coming by my place later?” you asked as you grabbed your bag.

“Of course.” Tim kissed you one last time. “How could I not be?” You smiled, kissing him back before disappearing out the door.

It wasn’t until hours later when Tim was looking for his shirt that he realized you were still wearing it when you left. He laughed, loving the idea you were still in his shirt.

***

And for once you let go Of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much, but it said enough

“Two Face is holding up the bank on King Street,” Batman said as the batmobile zoomed toward said bank. It was about two in the afternoon. The batmobile attracted a lot of attention for being in the daylight. “I should have known. The bank just received a rare shipment of double sided coins.”

Tim’s blood ran cold from the passenger seat. “Oh my god, (Y/N) was supposed to go to that bank. They were setting up an new account.”

“TT, who cares about your lover, Drake?” Damian snapped from the backseat.

“Damian.” Bruce growled dangerously. Damian blushed and looked down.

“Drive faster,” Tim said, his heart in his throat. He took out his phone, texting you to see if you were still at the bank. You didn’t respond. He traced your phone. His stomach dropped to his feet when he saw you were still at the bank. “Shit.”

Bruce glanced over at Tim. “Your...friend is there?”

“His whore, you mean?” Damian snapped, snarling. Bruce glared back at him in warning.

“Shut up.” Tim swung back, sticking his finger in Damian’s face. “I love (Y/N) and they are in danger. I don’t need your insults right now.” Tim didn’t realize he just said he loved you. His fear overwhelmed his thoughts.

Damian pushed Tim’s hand away, but stayed quiet. Tim turned back around. “Don’t lose your head,” Bruce said as he parked the batmobile in an alley nearby. “Go through the skylight. Robin and I will enter through the air vents. Take out Two Face’s men quietly and quickly. Leave Two Face himself for me.”

Tim nodded, jumping out of the car and grappling to the roof of the bank. He rolled to his feet to land right by the skylight. He saw Two Face’s men patrolling the bank with only one group of hostages in the main lobby of the bank. His mask zoomed in on the crowd to find your face, but you were nowhere to be seen.

In a smooth movement, he slipped inside and grappled silently onto the rafters. One by one, he took out Two Face’s men without detection. Once they were all down, Tim heard Batman swoop in on Two Face. He grunted, only then did he allow himself to trace your phone again as he hid behind a file cabinet. You were a floor below him. Tim frowned. That was where the vaults were.

“Did you find them?” Damian said, appearing beside him. Tim flinched.

“I think they’re in the vaults.” Tim growled, getting to his feet. Batman had Two Face down, handcuffing him. Tim marched over to him and kicking Two Face in the side. “Did you lock people in the vaults?!” His voice dark and menacing. If Tim wasn’t so worried about you, he would have be proud of sounding so much like Batman.

“Red Robin.” Batman grabbed Tim’s shoulder. “Calm down. The bank manager is over there. Ask him to open the vaults.” He pulled Two Face away from Tim. Two Face groaned, switching between Harvey and Two Face as they argued with each other.

It took far too long to get the vaults open. Tim almost lost his mind, calculating how much air you would have left. Eventually as the managers fought over the passwords, Tim just hacked the vaults and ran inside. He instantly went lightheaded, the air was almost gone from inside. Fresh air swarmed in. Tim found you unconscious behind a stack of freshly printed money.

“(Y/N).” Tim collapsed beside you, taking you into his arms. You stirred as fresh air filled the vault.

“Wha...” You opened your eyes before gasping in panic and grabbing your throat. “I can’t breathe. Get me out of here!” Your entire body shook in his arms.

“You’re okay. Breathe with me,” Tim soothed, surprised by your reaction.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please. The walls are closing in. Help me.” It hit Tim like a ton of bricks what your issue was.

He hummed, picking you up into his arms. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here. You’re fine.” You buried your face into his neck. Damian met both of you outside the vault. He eyed you.

“So you told them?” Damian huffed, leading the way back up the stairs to the car. Tim cursed him when you pulled away from his neck in surprise.

He saw you search his face. The realization dawned in your eyes before your lips slammed into his. Tim grunted, shocked before relaxing into the kiss.

“TT, disgusting.” Damian shook his head and marched off ahead.

***

You kissed on sidewalks You fight and you talk

“You son of a bitch.” Your hand cracked against Tim’s cheek. He took the hit, stunned. “How dare you just come on in here and make a mess of everything?!”

“(Y/N), that’s not what I meant.” Tim held his cheek, looking at you bewildered. “I was trying to be nice since you said you were working so much.” You looked around your apartment. Things were in boxes, your furniture all over the place. You were moving in with Tim, but work kept you from packing.

“How do you think packing my apartment will help me?” Your eyes narrowed dangerously.

Tim swallowed hard. He looked around your apartment and put himself in your shoes. Yes, if he came home from work to find you packing his things to move, he would also be pissed. “Okay, I screwed up. I get that. I’m sorry.” He held up his hands.

You sighed. The anger drained out of you. “I’m sorry I freaked, but I just didn’t want to deal with this when I got home.” You sat down on your couch that was pushed up against a wall. “I know we wanted me to move into your place by next week, but work is so crazy.”

Tim sat down beside you. You moved to lay down with your head in his lap. “Tell me about it,” Tim whispered softly, stroking your cheek.

The two of you talked for a long time. You went over work stuff while Tim told you about one of his cases.

When Tim finally went home, you walked him down to the street. You both kissed sweetly on the sidewalk. Someone shouted get a room, but you both ignored them.

***

One night he wakes, strange look on his face Pauses, then says, you're my best friend And you knew what it was, he is in love

Tim jerked awake to find you missing from the bed beside him. His heart skipped a beat. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah?” you whispered, coming into the bedroom with a cup of water. You crawled back into bed beside him, pressing the water into his hand. “Drink.” Your hand pressed against Tim’s forehead. Tim felt clammy, weak. His hand shook as he took a sip of water. “Your fever is down.”

Tim blinked, setting the glass on his bedside table. “You’re my best friend.”

You smiled. “And you’re mine.” You kissed the corner of his mouth and pushed him to lay back down. Your body cuddled into Tim’s side. He relaxed, your presence like a soothing balm. This was what love was.

***

So it goes You two are dancing in a snow globe, go round and round And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

Tim spun you around before bringing you back into his arms. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “This is the happiest day of my life,” Tim whispered into your ear.

“I know. It’s mine too.” He dipped you as the song ended. People around the two of you clapped. Tim righted you. You kissed him sweetly.

“Okay, I think I should dance with the bride/groom,” Dick said, tapping you on the shoulder. You and Tim shared a look before laughing.

“Go ahead.” Tim got pulled away by Wonder Woman.

You turned to Dick as you began to dance. “I never thought me asking you to dance would get you married to Tim.” Dick spun you around and brought you back to him.

“What? Thought I’d get married to you instead?” You bit your lip, watching Tim blush at something Diana whispered to him.

“No, you’re too classy for me.” Dick kissed your cheek. “You make Tim better. Thank you for that.”

“He makes me better too.” You met Tim’s eye over Dick’s shoulder. Tim’s eyes were wide, his nerves getting the best of him. “You better go save him. I think he’s about to have a nervous breakdown dancing with Wonder Woman.”

Dick glanced over and laughed. “He’s fine, but I’ll step in. Bruce, you’ll take over, huh?” Before you could react, Dick spun you into Bruce’s arms.

“Hi.” You laughed.

“Hello yourself.” Bruce danced with you for at least two songs. Eventually, Tim got back to you and refused to let anyone else dance with you for the rest of the night. It was the photo from the last dance of the night where you and Tim were almost asleep on your feet that Tim framed and put on his desk at work.

***

You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars And why I've spent my whole life try to put it into words

Tim relaxed on the couch, eyeing the kids that were a mix of himself and you as they settled on the floor in front of the TV. You came in with two bowls of popcorn, giving one to the kids and the other to Tim. Tim smiled, kissing your cheek when you sat down beside him.

“Did we decide on a movie?” you whispered. Your oldest turned on the movie. The other kids munched on the popcorn, watching with big eyes.

“Yeah, I had to talk them out of the horror movie Jason left here.” Tim took some popcorn. “I know he left here on purpose.”

“Of course he did.” You kissed Tim’s cheek. “Just be glad they didn’t watch it behind our backs.” Your youngest got pushed away from the popcorn, and ran to you for support. “Hi baby.” You pulled them into your lap and they happily munched from Tim’s bowl.

The movie ended about two hours later. Tim looked at his family to find everyone asleep. You had your head rested on his shoulder with your youngest sprawled out between your and Tim’s laps. The older kids were passed out on the floor. Tim sighed, content. He understood how lucky he was.

Tim kissed the side of your head, and he could hear it in the silence.

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #batman #batman imagine #batfamily #batfamily imagine

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darker-soft-starker · 4 years

Photo

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

> I’m doomed > paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll. > help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End.

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared.

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest.

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth?

It’ll be fine.

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air.

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does.

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot.

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge.

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?”

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter.

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory.

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle.

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?”

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease.

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face.

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts.

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body.

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl.

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned.

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.”

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room.

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious.

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture.

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue.

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream.

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back.

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing.

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye. Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

#starker #ironspider #high school au #enemies to lovers

331 notes · View notes

tangledstarlight · 3 years

Text

i’ll say it with petals (you’ll ink it in my skin)

julie works at her families flower shop and luke works in the tattoo parlour next door. one time he plays his music a little too loud, one time julie decides to have a word.

it just a lil flower shop / tattoo artist au

i honestly had so much fun writing this one and it really truly did get away from me. i didn’t mean for it to be 11k words long, my bad. it also lowkey covers the ‘how do you passive aggressively say fuck you in flowers’ prompt, so the flower meanings are at the end.

but anyway please enjoy!!!

also on ao3 (in source!)

trigger warnings! death mentions (julies mom), mild swearing, underage drinking (literally a single beer) needles.

When she was little Julie remembers always being excited to get to go to work with her mom at the flower shop. Because she liked to spend time with her mom, but also because Julie really loved all the flowers.

Walking into the shop when she was little always felt a little like walking into a magical world. Somewhere full of bright colours and loud scents and soft instrumental music always playing in the background. It felt a lot like home too.

With her mom singing and her tia laughing and Julie trying to join in with both. She remembers, when she was little, always pulling one of the tall chairs up to the counter, greeting customers with a gap toothed smile and asking in her best voice ‘what can I help you with today?’ but she’d a little bit of a lisp and the chair would wobble and the customer would smile politely but ring the bell for her mom or tia to come bustling out.

Walking into the shop still feels a little bit magical even now she’s nineteen and no longer full of childhood wonder, but it’s also tinged with a melancholy feeling that has her sitting at the front counter on one of the tall chairs and humming quietly to herself.

When Julie thinks back on her childhood now, it’s full of music and laughter and flowers. When she closes her eyes, when the shop is quiet and she’s alone in the backroom, she can almost hear her mom singing about flower names to her and hear tia talking away to a customer and her dad dropping by to kiss her hair and leave lunch. It used to hurt, and sometimes it still does, but mostly it just makes her smile.

Until the sound of heavy drums and a loud guitar breaks her peaceful afternoon.

Julie accidentally snaps the stem of the lily in her hand as she glares at the wall that connects their shop to the tattoo parlour next door. For the last two weekends this has been happening on and off. The music would start blaring at random points in the day and abruptly stop. Only to start again a little later on.

Now see, despite what people at her school might have said in senior year, Julie still loved music. She liked to play it just as loud as the next person, and she didn’t even mind whatever band it was that was playing. They had some very catchy riffs and melodies, from what she could hear.

But when your music echoed through the walls so loud that someone next door could hear the words, your music was too loud.

Putting the snapped lily down, Julie wipes her hands on her apron and glares a little more at the wall, like the person on the other side would be able to see her, when there’s no change she glances at the clock. Twelve o’clock. So much for having a quiet lunch break and watching an episode of Schitt’s Creek. The only silver lining was that the music didn’t normally last for long. Twenty minutes at most.

By one o’clock, when the music is still blasting and she’s starting to gain a headache and she’s started looking up obscure flowers that could mean ‘shut up’, Julie decides she needs to do something.

The tattoo parlour has been in business next door to Petal Pushers for the last six years and as far as Julie knows there’s never been any issues between them. (In fact, Julie knows that her mom had gotten her last tattoo there and that her tia often gave them leftover arrangements for their front window and four years ago, when the flower shop had undergone a rebrand, one of their artists had designed their logo.)

All she had to do was go next door and ask whoever it was to turn the volume down. Easy.

She finds herself waiting another half an hour, just in case, but she can still hear the crashing of drums and the pulsing bass.

So she slips her phone into her back pocket and picks up her keys, turns the sign on the door to ‘back in ten minutes!’ and walks the eight steps to the right, pushes open the door to Etched in Ink and is immediately attacked by music. There’s a more authentic feeling to it now she’s in the shop, something alive about it, but it might just be the volume and how she can see the bowl of lollies on the front desk actually vibrating.

“Hello?” Her voice gets lost in someone singing about time moving slowly as she steps further into the shop, eyes glancing around. She’s been in before –– she came when her mom got her tattoo and she’s dropped off flowers on occasion –– but it’s been a while. There’s some new art work on the walls she thinks, and band posters. Fingers tapping on the desk she shouts a hello again but isn’t surprised when it’s once again swallowed by the music

Rolling her eyes Julie steps around the desk and through to the main area of the shop where the music is impossibly louder, but there’s still no one around. Honestly, it would be so easy for someone to walk in and rob the place.

Her fingers walk along the arm arm of a chair as she walks through the space and towards a slightly ajar staff door at the back. Julie knocks, to be polite, but huffs out a breath when there’s still no response. Honestly, she can barely hear herself think in this place, let alone hear someone at the door.

Pushing it open, her mouth opens to reprimand whoever is inside but instead she’s left standing both thoughtless and speechless at the guy bouncing around the room.

He’s wearing black jeans and an orange beanie that contradict with the sleeveless band shirt covering his torso. Because that’s all it’s covering, and doing a poor job at that. Julie watches, a little transfixed, as his biceps flex, sleeve of tattoos dancing with the movement as he plays along with the guitar riff of the song on the electric in his hands.

Idly, in the back of her mind, she finally understands why the music had felt different when she stepped into the shop.

He nods his head in time with the music and the crashing of a cymbal, eyes shut tight and biting his bottom lip in concentration.

And okay, Julie knows she came over to yell at the asshole playing his music too loud and is now just gawking at him. But in her defence, she didn’t know he was going to be so hot.

Julie’s still standing in the doorway staring at him, her mind trying desperately to regain control, when he opens his eyes and looks right at her. His eyes widen a fraction in surprise, and she notices his fingers slip, just a little on the frets, before a smirk curls at the edges of his lips.

In mild horror and joy, Julie watches as he takes a step closer to her, fingers moving across the strings as he follows along with the song and stares right at her.

Swallowing, and trying to ignore how warm her cheeks suddenly feel, Julie crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at him as the song finally seems to come to an end.

“I knocked!” She blurts out the second he hits pause on the cd player in the corner of the room and she resists the urge to move hair in front of her face when he looks at her with a single raised brow. “But it’s no surprise you couldn’t hear me over this racket,” she waves vauley to his guitar, careful to avoid eye contact with his arms.

“You work next door, right?” He asks, sitting on top of the table in the middle of the room, his feet resting on the chair while he rests his guitar on his lap, folding his arms on top, muscles flexing and oh god. She really needs to stop staring at his arms.

“Mhm,” she manages to get out along with a nod of her head, eyes darting up to his face. But from the look in his eyes Julie’s pretty sure she’s been caught staring.

“I’ve seen you around,” he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and he smiles and Julie thinks that might be worse to look at then his arms. Fucking hell, “I’m uh Luke, by the way. Started here a few months ago.”

“Right,” this conversation was not going the way she anticipated. Pushing aside his employment history and his name –– though she is grateful to have it –– Julie clears her throat and pulls herself up a little straighter. “That’s great. I came to ask you to turn the music down. I can barely think next door.”

“You don’t like the songs?” There’s a slight pout on his lips that almost distracts her and has her saying she does like the songs.

Instead she shakes her head, “It’s not exactly the soundtrack I want when making a funeral arrangement.”

Honestly, she had been expecting him to nod in understanding, apologise for the loudness and promise to keep it down. She didn’t expect him to let out a laugh –– which was bright and clear and made his eyes crinkle in such a cute way that it totally distracted her from his biceps –– or lean towards her with a grin.

“Are you kidding!? A song about how life is short and you’ve got to live it like it’s now or never––” he sings the line and suddenly Julie is hit with the knowledge that the music she’s been hearing over the last few weeks is apparently his, ”Is the perfect soundtrack for a funeral arrangement. Also possibly christenings. But I don’t know if flowers are a thing for those.”

“Of course there’s –– No, no stop,” she closes her eyes, throwing her hands up before she really loses track of the conversation, “I’m not here to talk about flower arrangements. I just came to ask for you to please turn the music down,” she pauses, eyes darting to his arms and the guitar they’re resting on before pointing at the amp its plugging into, “And if you’re going to play, to do it at a 1, not a 10.”

“Even if I play something arrangement appropriate like You Raise Me Up?” Luke leans a little more forward, pushing himself to the edge of the table until his guitar is almost touching the back of the chair.

“Even if you played Danny Boy,” Julie doesn’t know when she’d copied him, tilting forward at the waist so they were almost eye level, but when she notices she can make out the details of the book inked into his skin she realises they’ve drifted closer. Cheeks warming, she stands up straighter and brushes her hands down her apron.

“Just–– keep it down. Please,” she turns to walk out the door but hesitates, turning to look at him over her shoulder, eyes firmly on his face, “If not for my sake then for your own. Anyone could walk in here and rob you, and you wouldn't hear a thing.”

“Hey wait! You didn’t tell me your name! Can’t spend the whole conversation staring at my arms and not give me something.”

Julie pauses, lets her eyes wander from his fingers resting on the neck of his guitar, up his inked forearms and biceps before landing on his face, quirking her lips a little, “Think of it as payment for disrupting my lunch.”

She’s halfway through the main room when she hears him stuttering out a laugh and calling after her again, and it takes all her willpower not to turn around.

Unfortunately that means she’s a blushing mess by the time she makes it back into her shop, shaking her head as she tries to stop smiling.

After their first encounter Luke doesn’t play his music too loud anymore, but Julie suddenly starts seeing him all the time anyway.

A Tuesday morning when she’s opening up, blinking back a yawn and fumbling with her keys and he’s wandering up with a wide grin and too chirpy hello. She’s fairly certain she grumbles something about daylight and needing coffee before dealing with him and an amused smile on his lips. (The next Tuesday when he’d strolled up he’d had a carrier with two take out cups and handed one to her without a word. Julie had stood stunned for a few seconds before her brain kicked in and she’d opened the door with a muttered thanks.)

A Thursday evening when she’s lugging a bag of garbage out to the bins at the back of the shop and Luke’s sitting on the old deck chair in his shop's yard, notebook open on his lap and pen tapping on his knee. He’d gotten up, pen tucked behind his ear and book stuffed in his back pocket, and come over to help her. After she’d said thank you they’d hesitated in each other's space and shared a smile before going their separate ways. (Later, Juile wrinkles her nose when she realises it’s the first time they’ve both smiled at each other and it had been next to the god damn bins.)

A Friday at lunch time when she’s bringing out a tray of flowers to give to the hearse driver parked on the street and Luke walks past humming the tune to Danny Boy under his breath, making her burst into a fit of giggles that makes him grin and the driver frown and her blush. (She sees him walking past again half an hour later and waits until she’s sure he’s inside before hitting play on their sound system, You Raise Me Up starts blasting through the shop and she grins to herself when she hears something hit their connecting wall.)

A Sunday afternoon when she’s collecting all the leftover bouquets from out front of the shop and Luke walks past her, hands in his pockets and guariar case slung over one shoulder. He pauses as she straightens up with a collection of rose bouquets in her arms, she raises an eyebrow at him and Juile could swear he blushes, but it’s probably a trick of the dying light. He’d given her a two finger salute, muttered something about having a good afternoon and then hurried away. (Julie had spent the last hour of her shift before closing thinking about the way the denim jacket he had been wearing did very little to hide the definition of his arms.)

So Julie’s used to seeing him around now.

To their little quips and shared coffees on Tuesday mornings and the way the ghost tattoo at the bottom of his bicep seems to dance whenever he shoots her a wave.

But she’s used to seeing him outside.

Never inside Petal Pushers surrounded by flowers or tilting his head as he listens to the softly playing music.

But on a Wednesday afternoon as she comes out of the back room when someone rings the bell on the counter she’s greeted by Luke doing just that. He’s got one hand pushed into the front pocket of her jeans while his other is idly tracing a pattern on the counter top, it’s only when she gets a little closer that she realises he’s tracing music notes.

“Hi, welcome to Petal Pushers. I’m Julie, how can I help you today?” The words leave her mouth before she can stop them, mind working on autopilot at the sight of a customer.

A slow smile spreads across Luke’s face as he looks down at her, his fingers stilling on the counter, “So you’re name’s Julie,” he says and Julie doesn’t think she’s ever heard anyone say her name like him. Like it’s the lyric to a song they’ve been trying to finish or a missing puzzle piece.

Letting out a sigh she gives him a nod, chewing on her bottom lip as she really looks at him. Over the last few weeks Julie has learned that he doesn’t work Wednesdays, that he has a real aversion to sleeves and when he knows no one is booked in for an appointment he uses the time to practice for his band. She’s also learnt that he bites his lip way too much for her health, has a tattoo on his ribs that she’s dying to fully see and that he rubs the back of his neck when he’s nervous.

Like he’s doing right now.

“It is. Did you just come in to finally find out or did you need some flowers?” She tilts head at him and smiles.

“I uh––” his hand is still rubbing at his neck and Julie watches his tongue run over his lips and she has to blink quickly to refocus her eyes when he starts talking, “I heard that flowers have different meanings, right?”

“Uh yeah,” she nods, still blinking, but more in confusion now. This isn’t quite what she thought the conversation was going to be.

“Okay cool. So um, how would you say fuck you in flowers?”

Julie blinks, opens her mouth to say something only to close it again. Huh. Really wasn’t what she expected him to ask.

“Well, do you want to say it subtly? Passive aggressive? Just a straight up fuck you?” Her mind is already thinking about possibilities and what they have in stock.

“Straight up fuck you,” he nods once before muttering, more to himself then her, “I don’t think Bobby would even understand subtly.”

Squinting for a moment, Julie knocks her knuckles on the counter top once before pushing away from it and starting to move around the shop. She picks out a few pink peonies and pale pink geraniums, she looks at the different carnations they have out, pursing her lips in thought.

“What exactly has this Bobby done? Dumped you for someone with better biceps?” She teases, glancing at him over her shoulder as she deliberates between the yellow and purple.

“I wish. That would have been better,” he sighs and Julie frowns at him, brows drawing together as she watches him tap on the counter. “He uh he used to be in my band? But he left because of ‘creative differences’, which was basically because he wanted us to sell out to the first big name label.”

He looks up at her, eyes wide and disgusted at the mere thought of it. And well, she understands that. From the little she’s heard of their band through the walls Julie’s fairly certain they don’t need to sell out to make it big. So she nods at him, tilting her head and hoping he gets that she understands.

“So he left and that was–– it was shit really because we’d all been friends for years. Me and the boys, we tried to keep in touch with him because he left the band but we didn’t think it meant we’d stop being friends, y’know?” Luke moves away from the counter now, wanders over to her and fingers the brushing gently over the petals of a rose as he frowns, “But he cut us off. Found out why yesterday.”

He pauses, fingers still moving over the rose and Julie takes the opportunity to pick out a few of the orange carnations, mentally deciding to fetch two sprigs of meadowsweet from the back when Luke starts talking again.

“He signed with some big shot label and has an album coming out in November. Seven out of the ten songs on it are mine,” as he says it he pulls a little to hard on the petal, tearing it in half, “Fuck, sorry.”

Julie waves away his apology, picking the damaged rose out and adding it to her arms. There’s a dull sort of roaring in her ears as she walks back to the counter, still trying to wrap her head around his story.

His friend had stolen his songs. Had stolen his songs and sold out.

She looks down at the flowers on the counter, stupidity and disappointment and uselessness and anger. Glancing up at Luke, who’s wandered back to the counter, hands pushing into his pockets and looking a little lost.

“He really stole your songs?” She asks gently. It’s been a long time since Julie played her own music, even longer since she wrote a full song, but she knows how much it would hurt her if someone ever stole them from her. Especially if that person had been her friend.

“Yeah,” Luke breaths, resting against the counter and shrugging at her.

“Okay then.”

Holding up one finger she hurries into the back room, picks up a roll of cellophane and the worst ribbons they have, two sprigs of meadowsweet and plucks a single orange lily from the bucket against the wall. Luke’s still leaning against the counter where she left him, staring at the collection of photos on the wall behind it. Most are just photos of their most popular bouquets but mixed between them are photos of her and her mom and her brother and her tia and her dad.

“Your aunt owns this place, right?” He asks casually. Too casually. Like he already knows the answer. Glancing up at him she hums, waiting to see where he’s going with it. “That’s cool. She brings us flowers for the front sometimes. Willie did your logo design, I think.”

Julie smiles at the mention of Willie, he’s a year older then her and had been working at Etched in Ink for the last four years, her mom had picked his design out she remembers. The rough sketched dahlia with music notes hidden in its petals and a rose in the centre. A combination of her moms and her tia’s favourite flowers and music that had always brought their family together.

“My mom said he really managed to capture our family business in it,” she chuckles, moving a carnation and adding one of the meadowood springs. Which might have been true, but Julie also knows they’d picked it because her mom only had a few months left and her tia wanted their new logo to still have something of her in it.

“He’s pretty good at doing that,” Luke agrees and the way he smiles at her lets Julie know that he knows about her mom. And she’s glad he doesn’t mention it, doesn’t try to offer any condolences. “He’s helping Reg re-do our bands logo.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow though her eyes are still on the flowers. In go the peonies and geraniums, colours clashing.

“Sunset Curve. You should uh––” he hesitates for long enough that Julie looks up at him, at the faint blush on his cheeks and one hand at the back of his neck. “You should check us out. We’ve got a few videos on youtube. Or I could uh I could get you a copy of our demo.”

She looks at him for a heartbeat, at his pink cheeks and the way he’s biting his lip despite smiling and the blank space of skin on the underside of his arm. Julie gives him a half smile, eyebrows flicking up as she teases, “Okay, Sunset Swerve, right?”

“I’ll go back to playing our demo super loudly,” he tries to glare at her, but it's ruined by the way his lips stick out in a pout and the lock of hair falling across his forehead.

“Mhm, and I’ll just call the police with a noise complaint,” she grins at him.

“If you were gonna do that you’d have done it already,” he points out and yeah. He has a point there.

“Maybe,” she concedes looking back at the flowers and sticking the lily straight in the middle. No better way to say fuck you then with an orange lily. Without measuring she cuts off a length of the bright lime green ribbon and lays a section of cellophane on the counter top.

“That’s a terrible colour,” Luke points out mildly and when Julie flicks her eyes up she sees him grinning. She wraps two elastic bands around the flower stems and cuts them all down to the same size before laying them on the plastic wrap and rolling them together.

“Can you––” she gestures with her finger for Luke to hold the ribbon and cellophane in place while she ducks down to find a packet of flower food to attach. She might not like who the flowers are going to but that doesn’t mean the flowers should suffer the price. Tying the ribbon into a bow over Luke’s finger, she taps him lightly with her pinky to move it before pulling the loops tight.

“Do you want a card?” She asks, wondering which of their options would suit this type of bouquet best. Maybe just one of the plain yellow ones.

“Oh yeah. Can it say ‘Hey Bobby, fuck you’.”

Julie pauses with her pen hovering over the card, waiting to see if he’s going to add anything else.

“Just–– just that? Nothing more?” she looks up at him but Luke just shakes his head, nodding down to the card for her to finish. Shrugging she does, using her best cursive so he knows the sentiment is meant. She holds it up for Luke to inspect and when he grins she slots it into the flowers, stepping back a little to admire her creation.

It’s absolutely horrendous. It’s perfect.

“This is great,” Luke grins as his eyes roam across the flowers and Julie’s pretty sure he has no idea what any of them mean. But he’s definitely picked up on how awful it looks which seems to be good enough for him. “How much do I owe you?”

“Do you want them delivered?”

“Yeah that would be good,” he pulls his wallet out and Julie has to bite hard at her bottom lip to stop from laughing as she notices the chain attached to his belt.

“That’ll be $15,” she presses a few buttons on the cash machines screen, the card reader lighting up as she waits to see how he’ll be paying but Luke’s just frowning at her.

“That can’t be right. It says the orange and purples ones alone are like ten dollars.”

“Mhm, I’m only charging you for delivery,” she can tell he’s about to argue so she’s quick to speak, “As someone who once thought of herself as a musician, anyone who steals songs deserves worse than an ugly bouquet of flowers. Fifteen dollars Luke.”

There’s a different look in his eyes as he taps his card on the reader, something assessing. Like she’s just handed him another piece of a puzzle when he thought he’d completed it. Julie looks down at the card reader, ready to tear off his receipt so she doesn’t have to wonder what he’s seeing when he looks at her.

“They’ll go out this afternoon, be with Bobby by seven pm at the latest,” she says, pushing the post-it note with the address firmly onto the cellophane and gives Luke a smile.

“Thanks,” the smile he gives her in return is a lot softer than she’s used to from him. But she likes it. “I’ll uh, see you tomorrow?”

It’s a question, hesitant and careful. Almost like he’s worried she won't want to see him tomorrow. Which is silly. Seeing Luke, even briefly in passing, has quickly become her favourite part of the day. Not that she has any intention of letting him know that. That would be embarrassing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Luke.”

“Bye. Julie,” and there’s her name again coming from his mouth that’s curving up into a smile. All she can do is wave awkwardly as he leaves.

A gasp of air leaves her lips as the door shuts behind him and she slumps forwards on the counter, nudging the flowers with her elbow, “Oh fuck.”

The saturday after the fuck you flowers Julie is handed an envelope by Victoria when she walks in for her shift at twelve o’clock. Julie gives her credit, she doesn’t start asking questions about ‘the puppy eyed boy’ until after she’s at least put her bag down.

“He all but pouted when I said you weren’t in yet, mija,” from the way Victoria wags her eyebrows Julie gets the feeling she might have ‘accidentally’ let slip when she was due in.

“I think that’s just his face tia. He made the same one when I said pizza was overrated.” Which was the wrong thing to say as Victoria’s eyes light up.

“And why were you talking about pizza?” She leans on the counter, handbag slipping down her shoulder at the movement.

“Because he mentioned he was getting pizza with his friends, that’s all. Nothing is going on between us, we’re just friends,” Julie tries to put as much stress on the word friends as she can. But Victoria just lets out a small hum, a knowing smile on her lips that Julie doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“If you say so Julie. Right, I’m off. See you for dinner tomorrow?” She pushes herself off from the counter, pushing up her bag and pointing one manicured hand at Julie.

“Papi’s making enchiladas, so there’s no need to bring anything.”

“Of course,” but they both know she’ll still bring something, perhaps a salad. Perhaps a whole meal. Victoria blows her a kiss and then turns in a flurry of skirts out of the door, leaving Julie shaking her head after her, a smile on her lips.

As soon as she’s sure that Victoria isn’t going to come bustling back in having forgotten something Julie unseals the envelope and pulls out a cd case with a post-it note stuck to the front. It takes her a while to work out what it says, but it’s easy enough to see the number scrawled at the bottom in a different handwriting.

It makes her smile, thinking about Luke writing the note and then asking one of his friends to write his number, like he wanted to make sure she could clearly read it. It almost makes her think he really wants to know her thoughts.

Making sure no one's about to come into the shop Julie slips into the back room and over to their sound system, taking out the cd of classical music and replacing it with the Sunset Curve demo. It doesn’t take her long to recognise the opening guitar riffs as the song that Luke had been playing along too when they’d first met, laughing a little to herself, she goes back to the front. Pulling one of the chairs over, she sits down and flips through the little leaflet that the cd came with.

Three faces looking out at her and one scribbled over in black sharpie. She’s going to hazard a guess that that’s Bobby. There’s writing underneath the photo and peering at it closer Julie sees that someone's someones written their names. Alex, Luke and Reggie. She shakes her head at the way he’s added his own name for her, just in case.

“Idiot,” she mutters fondly.

Luke doesn’t come back in, which is probably for the best because Julie keeps his demo playing for the rest of the day.

By the third play through she’s started to memorise the lyrics and by the fifth she’s adding in imaginary keys to parts of the songs and by the sixth she can harmonise along with them.

Around four, when she’s waving goodbye to a customer who came in asking for something blue she decides to take a break, turning the sign on the door as she presses Flynn’s name in her phone. She’s just turning the volume down on the sound system when her best friend answers.

“Okay, what’s the latest with Mr Arms?”

“He left me his demo and number, Flynn,” she whines, flopping down on the lumpy sofa, head hitting the wall softly.

“Is it bad?” Flynn asks and she can practically hear the frown in her voice. After the flower incident Julie had driven to Flynn’s dorm room and told her everything, and then they’d spent two hours looking through youtube for their videos. And they were good. Really good.

“No. It’s great. Amazing. Listen,” Julie pulls her phone away from her ear and hits the speaker button as the chorus of Late Last Night starts and she quietly sings along with Luke’s voice.

“Oh this is catchy,” she mutters, voice echoing through the room and Julie nods before remembering this is a phone call and her friend can’t see her.

“I know,” she groans, “Flynn. He’s hot, he plays guitar like a rockstar, he’s funny and helps me take out the garbage and his arms, Flynn. His arms!”

“I know babe. He’s got the arms of a greek god. You’ve told me,” there’s a teasing note in Flynn’s voice that just makes Julie groan again, slipping further down the sofa.

“What am I going to do?”

“Well, now hear me out, you could just text him. And ask him out.”

When she says it like that it sounds so simple. Julie frowns a little, absentmindedly nodding her head along with the outro to the song as she thinks about it. Texting him. Asking him out. Because what if he doesn’t like her like that? Sure they’ve been sort of flirting for a few weeks but he probably does that with everyone. With his face and personality, not to mention the whole band thing, he could get anyone he wanted, so why would he go for her?

“Okay Jules stop, I can practically hear you spiralling through the phone.”

“He might not even like me like that. He probably just wanted an opinion on his music,” she tries but it sounds weak even to her.

“Right, first of all you are hot. And anyone would be lucky to go out with you, more than lucky, they should be honoured that you’re even considering going out with them,” Julie laughs a little, but there’s no stopping Flynn when she’s on a roll, “Second the boy has taste if he’s asking for your opinion on his music because you have amazing taste. And third, they’re playing a show tonight at the Grange so meet me at mine at eight so I can judge your outfit.”

It takes Julie a moment to register what she’s said and then she’s blinking, pushing herself up on the sofa until she’s sitting up straight, “What? How do you know that?”

“They’re on twitter. And they really need some help on that front because there are so many typos,” Flynn trails off for a moment before her voice is back, “If it works out between you and Mr Arms I might consider offering them my services.”

“Isn’t the Grange a 21+ club?” She asks as her last argument but she already knows what Flynn is going to say. The fake ID in her purse is practically laughing at her.

“Fakes baby. Eight o’clock. Bring some of your dad's brownies.”

Julie doesn’t have a chance to think of any reasons why she can’t go before Flynn is saying “Love you bye!” and hanging up. She makes sure to carefully put the cd back in its case and slip it in her bag before locking up for the night, if they’re going to see them play Flynn should get to hear the whole demo.

The club is already busy when they show their ID’s to bouncers and wander in. Bodies press into each other on the dance floor in front of the stage, moving along to whatever the dj is playing so loudly it just sounds like bass to her. Flynn wraps a hand around her wrist and tugs her over to the bar, pushing through a group of boys around their age until they’re leaning on the counter.

“This place is smaller than I expected,” Julie shouts, shooting the bartender a smile as he puts down two beers in front of them and takes Flynn’s money.

“I guess unsigned bands can’t be picky,” Flynn grins at her as she picks up her drink and the two of them weave back through the crowd to one of the tables off to the side of the dance floor. There’s no chairs, but they don’t mind standing, “I wonder what time they’re on,” she taps the screen of her phone to check the time and Julie peers over as 9:32 flashes up.

Julie looks around, idly taking a swig of her drink as she watches a group of girls dance, laughing and giddy. The one downside to opting to take a year off before college is that she’s missing out on all this every week.

The sneaking into clubs and drunken dancing and shitty beer and new friends. Flynn always invites her when she goes out and she’s gone a few times, but it’s not the same. And anyway she’s meant to be using this year to decide what she wants to do. Who she wants to be. She’s pretty sure she’s not going to find it at the bottom of a bottle or on a sticky floor.

She pulls at the hemline of her black high waisted shorts, wiggling her hips a little as she tries to pull them down while trying to keep her lilac off shoulder crop top from riding up. It’s a delicate balance and she’s feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey,” Flynn’s hand appears in her line of sight and Julie follows it up to her face where she’s peering at her through gold shimmering eyes, “You look amazing. Stop fussing.”

Julie blows out a breath, dropping her hands from her shorts and lifting her drink to her lips and drinking. Flynn’s growing smile is enough for Julie to try and relax. And then the DJ is pausing the music and announcing the last band of the night, there’s a loud cheer from the gathered crowd as the three members of Sunset Curve stroll onto the stage.

The dark haired bassist, Reggie, waves at the crowd as he checks his bass is plugged in, throwing a wink at someone in the front row with a grin. Alex seems to be looking for something in the crowd and finds it if the wide smile on his face is anything to go by. But Julie doesn’t really spare them much more than a sweeping glance as her eyes land on Luke.

Apparently the lack of sleeves extends to the stage, as does the beanie –– which makes zero sense and she will be teasing him about it if she doesn’t melt into a puddle of goo by the end of the night –– , but there’s an ease to the way he walks up to his mic, guitar strap across his body and plucking a pick out of his mouth. He grins at something Reggie says that none of them can hear, and his face lights up and Julie knows that whatever they’re about to see is going to be incredible.

“Hey, thanks for coming out tonight. We’re gonna kick this off with something from our upcoming EP. This is Now or Never.”

Luke nods at Reggie and Reggie nods at him and then they’re playing. She’d thought their demo was good, had thought their badly recorded covers on youtube were good, had even liked the little she’d heard through the walls three weeks ago, but hearing them live is another feeling altogether.

They’re better than good and amazing doesn’t feel strong enough. Their whole performance is high energy and makes you want to get up, to dance, to sing along. So they do.

Julie downs the rest of her drink and then clutches Flynn’s hand as she pulls them through the crowd until they’re in the middle of the floor. Bodies pushing in around them, all jumping and swaying and some even singing along when they know the words. She lets herself get lost in the music, in the feeling of the drums through the floor and how the bass line reverberates through her.

It’s when they start In Your Starlight that Luke’s eyes find her in the crowd.

She knows the moment he does because his eyes widen a little and his fingers slip, playing the wrong note as he stumbles a half step backwards. And then he’s smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners as he nods at her, tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth before he starts to sing. While looking directly at her.

Maybe it’s the alcohol in her system or Flynn’s pep talks have finally clicked in her head, but she doesn’t look away, she sings his song back to him. She liked to think the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks by the end of the song is because of that.

They close with a cover of Everybody Talks and when Luke raises an eyebrow at her and nods to the side of the floor where the booths are she doesn’t hesitate to nod with a grin.

“Thank you! We’re Sunset Curve!” Luke shouts into his mic, wiping sweat off his face as he grins out the crowd.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie chimes in, winking at someone and then they’re walking off the stage and Julie is pulling Flynn over to the booths. For a moment, she hesitates as she looks at them, not sure where to go because they’re all occupied. And then a familiar face is waving them over and Julie breaths out a sigh and a smile at the sight of Willie.

“Molina! I didn’t know you were coming!” He grins as Flynn slips into the booth first and Julie slides in after her.

“Sort of a last minute thing,” she laughs nervously, because now that she’s here and knows they’re about to come out she’s suddenly second guessing everything. “This is my best friend Flynn. Flynn, Willie, he works at Etched in Ink too.”

“Oh! You did the logo right?” Flynn asks and then they’re talking about designs and colours and how sometimes a simple line drawing is better. Julie’s half listening, trying to feign interest but her eyes keep going to the side door that she knows leads to backstage, waiting for it to open.

Somehow, despite constantly looking, she still misses them coming out because suddenly a pair of arms are around Willie’s neck and a blonde head is pressing a kiss into his cheek. Julie looks up to find Luke already grinning at her, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Hey,” she thinks he’d have probably whispered it if they weren’t in a crowded club that’s started blaring music again.

“Hi,” and she waves.

God, why did she just wave at him? Before she can do something else embarrassing, like hiding her face in her hands, an arm appears around Luke’s neck and Reggie’s face is next to his grinning from ear to ear.

“You must be Julie.” Something about the way he says her names makes her want to run, like she’s walked into a trap without realising it. Instead she nods hesitantly.

“That’s me. You must be Reggie,” she tries to imitate the way he said her name but she’s not sure it works, but Luke elbows his friend in the side and then he’s sliding into the empty space next to her.

“I’m Alex. Ignore Reg. What he meant to say was we’ve heard a lot about you,” Alex smiles at her and there’s a teasing sort of tone in his words that makes her think she’s missing out on a joke. But she focuses on the other bit of information and turns to look at Luke.

“Aw, you’ve been talking about me?” She nudges his knee with her own, only realising just how close they’re sitting after the fact.

Luke shrugs at her, but he’s smiling and there’s a flush to his face that could be left over from their performance but she doesn’t think so, “Course I have.”

The simple way he says it, accompanied by the unbroken eye contact is enough to make her blush.

“I’m Flynn by the way. Julie’s best friend,” Flynn cuts through, leaning on the table to look directly at Luke who finally looks away from her and there’s definitely a flush on his cheeks.

“Did you uh, like the show?” He asks, and it’s to the table, but he glances at her.

“You guys were awesome, as always,” Willie says, lifting his hands that have been linked with Alex’s since the three boys sat down and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“You were better than I expected you to be,” Flynn shrugs and Alex lets out a disgruntled sound as he looks at her which starts a debate on what she thought they were going to be like. But Julie isn’t paying much attention and neither is Luke, because he’s looking at her expectantly for her answer.

She considers for a moment, tilting her head as she looks up at him, “You were–– you were amazing up there. More than amazing but I don’t know the word to describe it. All of you, but–– I liked watching you the most. You’re–– spectacular.”

“Really?” His eyes are searching her face, as if he can tell just by looking at her if she’s lying, but she just nods her head at him and smiles, he nods his head a little, biting his lip as he smiles too.

“Though I do have question why the fuck you’re wearing a beanie.”

“I told you it was stupid!” Reggie shouts and his hand is reaching across the table to hover in front of Julie’s face, waiting for a high five. Luke shakes his head at her, but she grins and claps her hand to the bassists.

“I thought we were friends,” Luke whines, a hand over his heart as he pouts at her.

“The beanie is so stupid,” is all she says, giggling as he pouts more and pulls the hat off his head, hair sweaty and a mess and she tries really hard not to look at his arms as he runs his fingers through the brown locks. Biting her lip again as she looks away, her eyes catch Alex’s who shoots her a knowing grin and she’s suddenly very grateful for the low lighting as she blushes.

“You really liked the show, though?” Reggie asks, bringing them back to the original question.

“You guys were great,” she smiles at him and Alex, “I especially like the drum solo in Lakeside Reflection? And oh my god the way you go back and forth in the bridge for Late Last Night, is amazing. Have you ever thought about mixing up the order you come in on it?”

She glances over at Luke as she says it, and there’s a moment, where their eyes meet when he’s got this soft sort of look on his face, like she’s once again handed him another puzzle piece and then she blinks and it’s gone and he launches into talking about their songs.

Later, after Flynn has unlocked her dorm room and the two of them have collapsed on her bed giggling and exhausted, Julie pulls her phone out of her bag and finally texts the number she saved hours ago back in the shop.

Luke replies within seconds and Julie clutches her phone to her chest with a giddy smile as Flynn teases her for being in love. She doesn’t even know what to say to deny it.

They start texting a lot after that. Silly memes they see and questions about if modern rock is better than classic and do different coloured roses mean different things.

It feels –– and Julie hasn’t said it out loud but she thinks it an awful lot –– like they’ve become real friends. Which makes it so much more awkward as her stupid crush on him grows. Because now he’s more than just the hot guitarist next door that she occasionally talks to. Now he’s Luke, the hot guitarist from next door who she talks to every day and is her friend.

Flynn just laughs at her, insisting there’s really no issue here and that she should just ask him out already so that she can sort out their social media situation without seeming pushy. Julie pointed out she could just offer but Flynn has said that would be weird.

And okay so, logically, Julie knows that he probably does like her. They’d spent the whole night after his show pressed together in that booth, knees touching and talking about whatever came to mind and she’d finally gotten a chance to look at the tattoo on his side.

(The detailed heart and a gramophone horn and the music notes that she’d hummed out loud. She could swear his eyes dipped to her lips as she did so and Julie had almost reached out to trace the lines inked into his skin. Instead she’d looked at his arm, at the tattoos littering his skin and listened as he explained some of them to her. The story of his life, really. She’d started tracing the outline of the guitar on his forearm, the year when he’d first met Alex and Reggie inked at the base, when she’d started talking.

“My mom had tattoos. We were supposed to go and get one together when I turned eighteen,” she’d trailed her finger tips up the neck and over the scrap of cloth attached to it, vaguely noting the way he seemed to shiver, “We had the designs all picked out and I promised her I’d still get mine. But… I’ve been putting it off,” she’d smiled ruefully up at him then, nose wrinkling.

Luke had put his hand over hers on his arm, thumb gently running over the back of her hand as he’d said, “When you’re ready to do it, book it for a Saturday.”)

And he’d started lingering on Tuesdays when he passed her her coffee, to talk about their weekends and if they had busy days and if she wanted to come watch them rehearse on Wednesday and how Bobby had apparently tried to reach out after the flowers. None of them had responded because now the ball was in their court and when they got to initiate the cutting off it was better.

And if she looks at it all. The little moments and touches and smiles and lingering looks, Julie logically knows that he likes her. But there’s still a chance, small as it might be, that he doesn’t.

And it terrifies her.

Surprisingly, or really, unsurprisingly, reassurance comes in the form of a drummer and bassist strolling into the shop on Tuesday morning two weeks after she saw them play for the first time. Julie smiles at them, albeit a little awkwardly, closing her pen in her notebook as she takes in the coffee holder in Alex’s hands and the way Reggie looks around the place in wonder.

She hadn’t seen Luke this morning, though he’d sent a text to say he was sick and wouldn't be around, but that doesn’t explain why she has two members of Sunset Curve in her shop.

“Hey guys, you need anything?” she raises an eyebrow at them, folding her hands on top of her notebook.

“Nah, just here to drop this off for Luke,” Alex smiles at her, freeing the coffee cup and putting it down in front of her.

Julie blinks at it, mouth parting slightly before looking back at Alex confused and chokes out, “What?

“He said he brings you coffee on Tuesday mornings and asked us to do it today because he’s being all dramatic in bed over the flu,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond sort of tone in his voice that does little to help her confusion.

“But he–– I don’t…” Julie trails off as she frowns at the coffee. Luke was sick and he was still worrying about her getting her coffee? She feels like the world is spinning on a different axis.

“Can you make me a yellow bouquet for under $20?” Reggie pulls her out of her spiral and she blinks up at the two of them, catching the tail end of the glare Alex shoots at him and the shrug Reggie gives in response. But it pulls her out and she blows out a breath, pushing thoughts of Luke to the side as she nods.

“Any flowers in particular?” She asks.

Half an hour later the boys leave, with Reggie clutching his little posey of various yellow flowers –– that cost over $20 but if she could change Luke only $15 on a $50 bouquet, she could make an exception for the happiest bassist she’d ever met –– and Alex sniffing the twelve roses he’d bought for Willie. But not before they’d both leaned on the counter as she tied a bow around the posey and Alex had stated, “Luke’s pretty dumb sometimes.”

Julie had fumbled the ribbon as she looked at them confused.

“What we mean is,” Reggie cut in “He’s our best friend, and the best song writer we know. But when it comes to his feelings and doing something with them, he’s dumb. And always pretty terrified.”

She’s still thinking about it an hour later as she sweeps up cuts and hums along with the radio. She taps her pen on her notebook as she looks down at the page she had been doodling on, and then throws it down to pick up her phone. It only takes a few minutes of googling for the number she needs and ten minutes later she’s got plans for next Saturday at one thirty.

“Julie,” Victoria’s voice cuts through her thoughts and she turns from where she’d been staring at a bucket of sunflowers to blink at her tia.

“Hm?”

“You’re going to be late mi ciel,” and she nodded to next door, eyebrows raised. Blinking, Julie glances at her phone to check the time and swears.

“Fuck. Right. I’ll um, I’ll come show you when it’s done,” she smiles at her aunt who smiles back, dropping one eye in a wink before she gets out the door.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll see it tomorrow at dinner,” Victoria blows her kiss before the door shuts and then Julie is on the sidewalk and Etched in Ink is eight steps away. Blowing out a breath she pushes her phone into the back pocket of her dungarees and walks.

When she opens the door there’s music playing faintly in the background and she smiles at how different it is from the last time she was stood here. This time she recognises the Sunset Curve poster on the wall and shakes her head at Luke’s shameless promoting. Like last time there’s no one at the front desk as she walks up to it, leaning her hip on the edge as she tilts her head to try and hear for someone in the back.

“Hello?” she calls and then there’s something crashing to the ground and someone letting out a string of curses before Luke comes stumbling through the archway and up to the desk looking breathless.

“Hey!”

She’s not as taken off guard by the sleeveless shirts and curling hair and teasing smirk as she was last time, but it still takes all her willpower to not just stare at him. Especially as he leans his hands on the desk, muscles and tattoos on display. She’s starting to think he does that on purpose.

“I have an appointment,” she breathes, looking at him and they’re so close she thinks she could count his eyelashes if she had time. God she wanted time to count his eyelashes.

“I know, I saw,” he smiles softly at her as pushes off from the desk and gestures for her to walk into the main room, “I was just getting things set up. Come on.”

Luke guides her with a hand on the small of her back over to the area he’s got set up, wagging his brows a little as she sits down that makes her laugh. Julie looks at the collection of inks and needles and bottles on the little tables next to her chair, chewing on her lip with a growing sense of trepidation.

“So,” Luke plots himself down on the stool, feet on the bar as he spins to face her with a smile, “You got a design for me to follow?”

“Oh! Yeah, right,” she sits up to dig through the front pocket of her dungarees and pull out a sheet of plain paper that’s been folded and refolded too many times to count over the last three years, she hands it to Luke, suddenly nervous about what he’ll think.

Carefully, as if he knows how important it is, he unfolds the sheet of paper and smooths it out on the arm of her chair, biting his lip as he looks it over and quietly, she can hear him humming the notes to himself as he tries to work out what the song is.

“It’s um––” Julie clears her throat as Luke looks up at her, gesturing to the drawing and starts singing faintly, “You are my sunshine.”

Luke looks at her with wide eyes and an expression she can’t quite understand and looks back at the page, quick to fill the silence, “Mom was going to get ‘my only sunshine’ but–– it’s what she used to sing to me when I was little and wouldn’t go to sleep, and it’s the first song I learnt on piano so it’s y’know, sentimental I guess.”

He still hasn’t said anything and Julie’s starting to get worried she’s done something wrong when he blows out a breath and blinks at her, small smile on his lips, “It’s beautiful.”

Then he turns to the table, gathering supplies and pulling on gloves and when he turns back to her he seems to have gotten control over his emotions again and is grinning at her, antiseptic wipe in one hand and numbing gel in the other.

“Are we feeling brave?” He teases and Julie rolls her eyes at him, laying her arm flat on the arm rest, wrist up and flipping him the finger before relaxing them back down.

“Just start stabbing me in the arm with a little needle Patterson.”

“Ooh brave it is huh.”

Gently, he holds her wrist with one hand as he cleans her skin and doesn’t let go when he turns to throw it away and to pick up the tattoo gun. His fingers tap on her palm as he looks at her, raising an eyebrow, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” she blows out a breath and nods at him. But he still hesitates for a heartbeat, searching her eyes before he smiles gently and brings the gun down to her skin.

At the first stab of pain Julie hisses in a breath, fingers of her other hand gripping at the spare armrest and when Luke looks up at her she nods her head with a smile that’s almost a cringe, “I’m okay. Keep going.”

And he does.

After a while it doesn’t hurt quite so much, and she loosens her grip on the arm of the chair. She still hisses in a breath on occasion but it’s bearable, and she can sort of understand why people like getting tattoos. It doesn’t hurt that from this position she has a clear view of his bare arms and can stare at them shamelessly for as long as his head is bent over her wrist.

“Is that––” Julie lets out a laugh, eyes squinting as she tries to peer a little closer as the tattoo above his elbow, “Is that a hotdog?”

“Huh? Oh,” he looks up, blinking at her and then at his arm, joining in with her laugh as he shakes his head. “Yeah. Me and the boy got wicked bad food poisoning from some bad dogs when we were seventeen. Almost died.”

Julie blinks at him and tries really hard to stop her laughter, but it keeps bubbling past her lips, “So you got a tattoo to commemorate the time you nearly died?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, grinning at her before going back to work.

They make idle chit chat for the rest of her tattoo, talking about music they love and films they want to see and how Willie’s been trying to teach Alex to skateboard for 2 years and can still barely stand on the thing.

“And you’re done,” the buzzing suddenly cuts off and it takes Julie a moment to get used to lack of it, blinking at Luke who’s nodding down at her arm.

Carefully, slowly, she lifts up her arm to inspect his work. Five lines spanning the width of her wrist with little music notes dotted along it and she hums the tune to herself, blinking back the tears that fill her eyes as she just looks at it.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers, biting her lip as she looks at him. “Thank you.”

Luke shakes his head, pulling the gloves off his hands and balling them up before throwing them into the bin and picks up a roll of plastic wrap, tearing off a length to spread on the arm of the chair, patting it for her to put her arm back down on, “Nah, all I did was basically trace your work.”

“No for––” she gestures with her free hand around them, trying to encompass everything of the last two months. For the coffees and the laughter and the music and the conversation. “So much,” is what she settles on, and just hopes he gets it.

When he’s finished wrapping her wrist he trails his fingers up to her hand, squeezes her fingers once and then stands up, and she hurries to follow, not wanting him to let go of her hand just yet. Julie follows him back to the front of the shop, their fingers still linked and she tries to listen to him talk about aftercare and which creams are best and what to avoid. But all she can really think about is the calluses on his fingers and how she wants to know what they’d feel like brushing across her lips.

So Julie pulls them to a stop before they reach the desk, blowing out a breath as she looks up at him. She’s just gotten her first tattoo and only cried at the end, she’s feeling brave. She can ask the hot guitarist out.

“I was wondering if um you maybe–– if you wanted too––” she stutters, brows furrowing a little as she tries to get the words out and Luke just smiles at her, which isn’t helping. “Stop doing that with your face, I’m trying to ask you something,” she mutters.

It just makes him smile wider, and his fingers are detangling themselves from hers and she honest to god lets out a small whine at the sudden loss of contact. Luke’s smile turns into a smirk as he hears it, tailing his fingers up her arm and over her shoulder and up her neck and suddenly he’s cupping her cheek and Julie thinks she’s forgotten how to breath.

“Jules,” he whispers, leaning towards her and she can feel his breath ghosting across her face as she lets out a noncommittal sound, “Can I kiss you?”

A breath rushes out of her and her hands skim up his biceps and around his neck, “God please do.”

And he does.

It’s soft, just a press of their lips against each other at first and then Luke brushes his thumb across the top of her cheek and she lets out a sigh, pulling him closer as he slips his tongue into her mouth.

There’s teeth nipping at lips and her fingers running through his hair and Luke chuckling at her whine of protest when his lips leave hers to trail across her jaw, down her neck where he sucks and she moans and he has the audacity to laugh again.

So she pokes her fingers into his sides, grinning triumphantly when he tries to wiggle away, scrunching his nose up as he looks down at her.

“That’s rude,” he mutters, but there’s no heat behind it and he presses a kiss into the corner of her mouth.

“Hm, I’m sure I can think of some way to make it up to you,” Julie purses her lips, pretending to be in thought before leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him, slowly, drawing it out.

When they break apart this time they’re both a little breathless and smiling giddy smiles.

“What were you going to ask me?” he whispers, brushing his nose across hers as he tries to pull her closer and it takes Julie a moment to understand what he’s asking, her mind blank on anything that’s not Luke lips on her skin or his fingers trailering over her neck.

“Oh. Um I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner. With me. Like a date,” she wrinkles her nose at how awkward the question comes out but Luke leans back a little to grin down at her.

“Julie Molina, are you asking me out?”

“Oh shut up, you kissed me first,” she grumbles, tilting her head forward to hide in his chest and Luke laughs, she can feel it rumble in his chest and it makes her giggle a little too.

“Yeah I did. Best decision I’ve made since playing my demo way too loud,” he sounds proud and he presses a kiss into the top of her head, “I’d love to go get dinner with you.”

“Hm,” Julie agrees, trying to hide her smile in his terribly pointless shirt. Honestly, she’s never been more glad that he played his music too loud, it was totally worth the headache she had for the rest of the afternoon.

“Hey Luke,” she pulls back a little to look up at him, and he raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah?”

“Did I ever tell you I have a thing for guitarists with tattoos?” She smiles innocently up at him and is rewarded with the same curling smiling on his lips from the first time they met.

[ flower meanings: - pink peonies: passive aggressive anger - pink geraniums: stupidity - dark purple carnations: disappointment - meadoweed: uselessness - orange lilies: hatred (if i got any of these wrong please let me know i got my information from google fghdj) ]

ao3 link

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #julie molina x luke patterson #jatp fic #alex mercer #reggie peters #willie #flynn #*fics #people i had a freaking blast writing this lemme tell ya #bobby is mentioned but im afraid he is a dickhead my bad

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