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enviedear · 5 months

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jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

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#billy the kid #billy bonney #billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy bonney fluff #billy the kid fluff #i know everyone’s in their coriolanus era but…

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austinsmutler · 11 months

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hii ,I heard requests are currently open and wondering if you could please pretty please write a masterpiece of a sleepover with virgin!elvis and his girl bff who he has a crush on and not too long hes found masturbating then it turns into a steamy ass night I guess? if you’re not comfy writing it, totally alright! love u and ur work, literally breathe and live on it😭🙏🤭♥️

Anon, are you trying to appeal to my ego? It’s working. I’m loving, living, and breathing from this idea! You know me, I love a bad boy EP, so this is my first take on virgin!Elvis. I’d love to write more, and I LOVE me some friends-to-lovers. And don’t get me STARTED on best friend!Elvis, good lord. The pining. The yearning. The increasing desperation all boiling over… have mercy.

Anyway, hope ya like this one!

Young Dreams - Virgin!Elvis x Reader - 3,600 Words

What you’ll like: Virgin!Elvis, Best friend Elvis who is absolutely weak for you, cute smut

Warnings: Sex, Elvis and reader are both inexperienced, but there's no pain because in this house we practice foreplay. Minors DNI.

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Currently writing for Elvis, Austin!Elvis, and Eddie Munson)

“What do you mean no-one’s home this weekend?” Elvis sounded worried. Your fingers played with the phone cord, not sure how to console him.

“I’ll be fine. My folks needed a break, so they’re staying with Grandma on the coast for a few days. It’s only a few hours away- I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm.” Elvis hummed on the other end of the line. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“Elvis!”

“Alright, five minutes.”

You laughed until the other end of the line went dead. He can’t be serious, can he?

You’d known Elvis your entire life, ever since he’d moved onto the house at the end of the street. You walked home from school every day together, and now that high school was over and you had a job waitressing on the edge of town, he drove you to and from work every day. He said it wasn’t a problem because he drove in and out of Memphis for his own work, but the little diner was on the complete wrong side of town. Still, it meant you stayed close, even after graduation.

You sat on the living room windowsill. The rest of the house felt intimidating, big without your parents to fill it. Elvis knew you didn’t like being home alone, but what was he going to do about it?

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. You looked at the clock and bit back a smile. Exactly two minutes and thirty seconds since he hung up the phone.

“You’re late.” You said, crossing your arms in the doorframe.

“I had to pack.” Elvis grinned and held up a bag. “Can’t wear the same clothes all weekend, can I?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and stepped aside to let him in. Old Mrs Cranston was on her front porch, scowling from her rocking chair with a look that said, Your Momma will hear about this.

You fought the urge to stick your tongue out as you closed the door. Your parents had let Elvis stay over before- granted, you were kids then, but nothing had changed between the two of you since. You were just friends. If there were any feelings between the two of you, they were buried deep; the most private treasure, never to be unearthed.

Elvis had already made himself at home, leaning the bag beside the couch and turning on the radio, quickly tuning into Sam Phillips’ station.

“B.B. King.” Elvis whistled.

“Everyday I have the blues.” You named the track without thinking, and Elvis smiled. Music was the first love you shared, and you both sang along to the tune.

Ooh everyday,

Everyday,

I have the blues

When you see me worryin' baby,

Yeah, It's you

I hate to lose

Elvis’ voice was deep and soulful, honed from years of singing along to the choir every Sunday. You took a seat on the couch beside him as the next song played and he didn’t even pause for breath. Big Boy Crudup.

“That’s alright Mama, that’s alright with you…” He stood up to dance, taking on a completely different persona to the one he held when you sang together. His pretty features screwed together as Elvis sang with an attitude. “That’s alright, any way you do…”

You bit your lip as he lost himself in the music. Was he putting on this performance for you, or for himself? Maybe both. You’d listened to music together hundreds of times- at your home, at his, in his truck, in diners and at the movies. Every time he made it feel like an intimate experience, stirring something inside you weren’t sure you should feel.

“You’re good at that, you know.” You said as the song ended, hoping the heat on your cheeks wasn’t noticeable.

“What?” Elvis sat beside you, not even out of breath.

“Singing. Moving.” You smiled. “Remember that talent show when we were thirteen? You got first place.”

“I sang Old Shep.” He chuckled. “And you did that little dance, in the pink dress.”

“I can’t believe you remember that!” You slapped his arm. “Dunno what I was thinking, I’ve never been able to move. My feet get confused.”

“I liked it.” Elvis cleared his throat. “I like seeing you dance.”

If you weren’t blushing before, you were now. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on that.”

Another rock song came on the radio and Elvis stood again, feet already wiggling as he extended a hand. “C’mon, it’s easy.”

You shook your head, hugging yourself. “I’m fine right here.”

“Nah.” Elvis pulled you up with one almighty tug on your arms, pulling you into him. You weren’t so close that someone watching through the window would get the wrong idea, but you could still feel the heat radiating from his body, feel the strength in every motion as he moved. “Just feel the music and let it move you. Don’t think.”

You tried, and nearly tripped over your own feet before he caught you. Both of you broke into laughter at your awkward movements, but by the end of the song something loosened up. Were you a good dancer? Absolutely not. Next to Elvis you were even worse, but that didn’t matter.

Every time he grinned over at you, a little bit of that self-consciousness melted away until you were spinning in time to the music, so hard your poodle skirt lifted to show a flash of the underskirt beneath with every movement. It was the most delicious kind of dancing- free and fun, and certainly not allowed at school dances.

The room seemed to heat up, sweltering by the end of the song. Both your chests heaved with heavy breaths and you fanned yourself as you and Elvis stopped, staring at each other.

His blue eyes were dark, mouth open slightly as he looked at you. You’d seen that look before. Usually it was just a flash, when you laughed in the back of his truck, when he picked you up from work, when you listened to a brand new record together. This wasn’t a flash- this was written all over his face. Hunger.

“I should, uh…” You gulped. “It’s getting late, I’m gonna make dinner. Momma left me some things to reheat in the fridge, that okay?”

Elvis blinked and the look was gone. “Sure.”

He didn’t follow you into the kitchen, and you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or not. There had always been space between you, but it was always full of something. That look…

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you put two dishes of leftovers into the oven and set it to a low heat, along with a kitchen timer for ten minutes.

Sweat started to creep onto your skin, and you tried to shake away all the thoughts of Elvis, the molten look in his eyes, the way his jaw flexed as his eyes trailed down to the bust of your dress…

You needed to cool down, you decided, heading to the bathroom.

Only to open the door and be greeted to the sight of Elvis leaning against the sink, eyes closed and head tilted back, lips murmuring your name as his hand moved frantically over his-

You slammed the door with a yelp.

“Sorry!” You headed back to the kitchen, blood rushing to your face. Had you really just walked in on him touching himself?

He was whispering your name. He was whispering your name, and touching himself.

Elvis stumbled into the hallway, safely tucked into his pants. You tried to keep your eyes on his face and not on the obvious tent in his jeans. His face was just as red as yours must have been as he stuttered,

“M’sorry, you- you weren’t supposed to see that- I wasn’t-”

Your eyes flicked down, then to his face, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I was-” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I won’t- god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Were you thinking about me?” You asked, ignoring the way your voice wavered.

Elvis froze, before his eyes finally met yours and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

“You do that often?”

The look on his face told you all you needed to know. He shrank back as you walked up to him, hands shaking at your sides. Suddenly all those looks, all those flashes of hunger were making sense.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. It- it won’t happen again, I’m sor-”

Elvis was cut off as your hands wrapped around his head and pulled him down for a searing kiss. He froze again, before a moan rumbled up from deep in his throat and he grabbed at your lower back, pulling you against his hardness.

You devoured each other’s lips until there was no more oxygen in your lungs and you had to break apart or pass out.

“Why did you never say anything?” You breathed against his lips. Elvis licked at your bottom lip, humming another kiss into you before responding.

“I never thought you’d feel the same.”

Shock pulled your jaw to the floor. You weren’t sure whether to slap the man or kiss him again, but you decided on the latter. “I’ve never felt anything for anyone but you.”

Elvis growled and spun you around so you were against the wall, his hands on your waist, his tongue on your neck devouring every inch of exposed skin. The only thing in the world was the heat radiating from his body, dancing with yours. He lifted you up and your legs wrapped around him instinctively, the sudden contact of his hand on your bare thigh pulling a moan from your throat.

When Elvis pulled back to look at you his eyes were wild and raw. He ground against you, holding you in place against the wall as he moved. He rubbed against just the right place and heat shot through your body, releasing a sound you’d never made before, echoing up from your core to the tip of your tongue.

“That good?” Elvis asked and you nodded against him. He hit the same spot again, and again, grinding hard through your clothes until your entire body shook and you were sure you were about to die, or explode, or-

A sharp ringing cut through your moans. Damn timer.

“D-dinner.” You gasped. “Elvis, I- it’s in the oven…”

Elvis reluctantly put you down and you stumbled over to turn off the heat.

When you turned back to look at him, he was flushed, black hair messy from your fingers running through it, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them now that you were out of arm’s reach.

His dark eyes met yours and he stuttered out, “I’ve- I’ve never… Never done anything before. With anybody.”

You froze. “Not even with Dixie?”

He shook his head. “We only went to prom. She wound up dancing with Reggie from her band practice, and he took her home. That’s why I spent most of that night third-wheeling with you.”

You nodded, remembering the night. You’d been surprised when Elvis told you he’d found a date, but then a guy from the football team had asked you out and you’d reluctantly said yes.

Turned out he’d just wanted to get close to one of your friends. By the time Elvis came over, you were a third wheel on your own date. The only redeeming part of prom was driving home with him and listening to Fats Domino.

“I should’ve asked you.” He spoke, voice soft. “I was scared.”

“I would’ve said yes.” You swallowed. “I’m saying yes now.”

Elvis tilted his head. “To what?”

You closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his. “Everything. Anything.”

You bit back everything else, all the thoughts suddenly floating to the tip of your tongue: I’ve always wanted you. I want everything you have to give me. I don’t even know how long I’ve wanted you, but you’re under my skin and I want you deeper.

Elvis hummed into your mouth, picking you up again and placing you on the table. Dinner was left forgotten on the countertop as he devoured your lips, then your neck, then lower to nip at your neckline.

“Elvis,” You whimpered, “Wait.”

He stopped immediately to look at you. “Is this alright?”

“I don’t want to… not here.” You bit your lip. “Let’s go to my room.”

Elvis’ eyes widened, then went so dark they were practically black as he understood. He helped you off the table, but you led him up the stairs on shaky legs. The whole thing felt like a dream- a good dream- but the warmth of his hand in yours grounded you to reality.

Elvis was your best friend. He’d been in your room before, but suddenly the space felt smaller; more intimate. You lay back on the pale pink sheets, watching as he drew the curtains, shrouding the room in half-light.

He paused and looked at you, eyes trailing from your face all down the length of your body.

“I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

“Come kiss me.” You smiled, ignoring the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Elvis lay beside you, cradling your face in his hands before tracing his way down to the zip at the back of your dress, where he stopped again.

“What is it?”

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” He smiled, avoiding your eyes with a shy smile.

“Neither do I.” You reached behind yourself to pull the zip of your dress down, tugging at the top to reveal your bra. Elvis reached out with a shaking hand and you closed the gap, sighing as his fingers pulled you in.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

Your confidence brought a smile to Elvis’ face- a crooked, curled-lip smile that melted everything else away.

Your hands shook as you unbuttoned his shirt, peeling the army green away to reveal a body tanned from the summer and toned from years of hard work. You’d seen Elvis shirtless before- summer heat waves meant swimming down at the creek- but this was different. Slower. Your eyes could linger, hands touch every muscle, drawing ragged breaths from the back of his throat.

Elvis breathed your name as you tugged the rest of your dress away, leaving you in just your underwear.

Then you were flush together, tasting every inch of skin. Frantic. Like you’d been waiting all your lives for this moment, and now that it was here it could all be over in a flash. Elvis hissed as your fingernails dug into his back, pulling him closer to you.

“I want you. I need you.” Elvis panted, biting back more words- as if a mountain of confessions was stacked up in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “Baby, tell me what you need me to do.”

You took Elvis’ hand and guided him beneath your underwear, showing him exactly where to touch. You both groaned as his finger pressed on your clit, rubbing softly at first, then hard. You cried out at the sensation, before Elvis pulled away to loop his fingers through the elastic of your panties.

“I need to see you. Please.”

At your nod, he took off your underwear and you made quick work of your bra, leaving you completely bare for him. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you, wet, gleaming, ready for him.

“How… how far do you want to go?” His eyes flicked up to yours.

“I need you in any way I can have you.” You replied.

He frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” You smiled, and he was on you again, between your legs, thrusting against you through his pants. You pulled his lips down to meet yours, grinding hard together.

“Wait,” He panted, stopping your hand from undoing the button. “Just… slowly.”

He pulled back to look at you again. “I want to take my time with you. What this is… I want it to be special.”

You moved your hands to stroke the hair back from where it had fallen in his face. “Okay. Slow.”

The heat between your legs begged for more, and Elvis didn’t complain when you wrapped your thighs around him, moving your hips to meet his every thrust. Every brush against your clit had the heat pooling deeper at your core until you were throbbing, body begging for him inside you.

Elvis was listening, learning, and every time you moaned he repeated his movement, smirking against your neck when your sounds started getting louder and louder.

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes,” You panted, “Please, Elvis, I need- I need-”

He pulled back at the desperation in your voice, so new and exciting. He didn’t wait for you to finish your sentence before pulling his pants and underwear away in one swift motion, stopping to pick a condom from the wallet in his pants. You looked at him questioningly.

“They were handing them out at school, I never thought I’d use one.” Elvis chuckled, pink rushing to his cheeks. “I mean, one day, but-”

“Hurry up and put it on.” You grinned.

You’d seen a flash of Elvis’ cock just once before, earlier that night, when you’d walked in on him and started this whole thing. But now it was in full view, almost intimidatingly big as he stroked himself with practiced ease before slipping on the condom.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to-”

“Please.” You were begging out loud now. “Don’t make me wait any more.”

Elvis grinned and lay between your legs, letting you adjust your hips. He sank into you slowly, as if he was waiting for a sign, for you to change your mind, or some divine intervention that never came.

You sighed as he bottomed out, rolling your hips after a moment of stillness. Elvis took that as his cue to start moving. Every slow roll of his hips brought you closer to something you’d only ever given yourself.

You’d expected sex to hurt, or at the very least be uncomfortable. That was what you’d been warned about your whole life. Yet, as Elvis moved, the only thing you could think of was the feeling, his cock inside you, and the desperate need for more.

“You okay?” He murmured, kissing your forehead.

“Yes,” you hissed with pleasure as he rolled his hips again. “You feel so good.”

Elvis shifted so his weight was on one arm, allowing the other to roam every curve of your body, from your hip to your breast, brushing over your nipple. You’d never felt safer, or more loved, and the feeling had you clenching around him. Elvis groaned and repeated the action before lowering his head to swirl his tongue around your breast, shuddering as sinful sounds echoed from your lips.

“So soft,” Elvis breathed, squeezing your hip, running a hand down your thigh, starting to move faster. “My beautiful girl.”

“Elvis,” You squeezed your eyes shut as his hand found your clit again, applying pressure exactly as you’d shown him earlier.

He kissed your eyelids. “C’mon baby, show me those pretty eyes.”

You shook your head, tugging him down for a kiss and keeping him there, clinging desperately as his hips sped up, pulling a cry from deep in your throat.

Elvis was everywhere- hot lips on your neck, cool breath in your ear, arms on either side of your head, shielding you from the rest of the world. Everything that wasn’t him, you, now.

The orgasm hit out of nowhere. One moment you were focused on the pleasure of him pounding into you, the next you were crying out. Your nails dug into his back, legs tightening around his pelvis, trying to get him impossibly deeper.

The sensation pulled Elvis over the edge with you. His cock pulsed with his release as you both moaned out in raw pleasure before Elvis collapsed on top of you. You held him there, stroking his hair as you both came back down to earth.

“You’re trembling,” you murmured.

“I’ll be alright.” He placed a kiss to your collarbone. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head. “Elvis, it was perfect.”

A slow smile spread over his face as he lay his head on your chest, humming appreciatively. “So does this mean if I asked you on a date, you’d say yes?”

You snorted. “I think this means if you asked me to marry you, I’d say yes.”

“How’s next week sound?”

Your heart fluttered. “Saturday at two?”

“I’ll have my momma call the church.” Elvis chuckled, rolling and pulling you on top of him. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You bit your lip as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. After years of being so close, it was rare to see something new from Elvis, but this was. The satisfied glaze in his eyes, the easygoing smile, hair mussed in all directions, the faint sweat that covered both your bodies.

He was gorgeous.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Elvis smiled wider.

“I’m thinking, I’m the only one who’s ever seen you like this.” You caressed his cheek and he leaned into the touch with a kiss to your wrist. “I like it.”

“You’re the only one who’ll ever see me like this, baby. That’s a promise.”

#austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis imagine #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #austin!elvis smut #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc

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penny-lane-posts · 4 months

Text

Everybody freaking out about Lucy Grays song and I just have to say

If you want to hear THE SAME FREAKING THING go to ANY bar in Appalachia. I’m in rural NC and I heard some old lady belting some bluegrass during music night at Hardee’s and let me tell you it was the same damn genre.

And then watching people realize it’s Appalachia It’s like people are realizing district twelve actually 😨EXISTS??😨 and it’s called the poverty stricken folk music havin’ under educated population of the Appalachian region 😨😨😨

district twelve is not just some fantasy dystopian place that doesn’t exist, it’s the neglected people whose government has abandoned them in the most confusing and deadly mountain ranges in America, the populations of people who sacrifice their lives in old mining towns, the schools who are so underfunded that the windows are boarded up with wood because they can’t afford to replace all of them, It’s the kids who slowly drop out of high school and middle school because their families are having trouble staying afloat and daddys business ain’t doing so well. And it’s the old lady’s belting bluegrass about hating the government in an old Hardee’s

#appalachia #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #folk music #poverty

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lord-ofthe-bands · 5 months

Text

Interview [12/05/82]

[00:00]

Interviewer: Alright Mr.Merridew, ready when you are.

Jack: Just Jack is fine.

Interviewer: Alright Jack, mind if we get started?

Jack: No, not at all.

Interviewer: Perfect! Now, the people are curious. How did your band "Lord of the Flies" come to be?

Jack: Well, it actually started with me and my good friend Ralph Allabach-

Interviewer: Ah yes! Ralph. He was in here a few days ago with that Peter kid.

Jack: [clears throat] As I was saying, Ralph taught me how to play guitar about 2 years ago. It really was just us and his sister Raven in a small, town-home garage. The rest is history I guess you could say. Me 'n Roger have been friends for ever so he started tagging along when he picked up bass. Me and Ralphie met Simon and the twins at the start of the next school semester in our geometry class. From there we just kinda formed our bands with our people. We are all very close. I mean, life's borin without some friendly companion, amirite?

Interviewer: [chuckling] Did you say Ralphie?

Jack: Of course darlin.

Interviewer: I see you have a thing for nicknames. Tell me more about yourself, Jack.

Jack: [note, Jack seems to get anxious after being asked this question] Well, what'chya wanna know?

Interviewer: Let's start simple, how's your school life? If I'm not mistaken, you're sixteen, correct?

Jack: Yup, born in '66

Interviewer: Ah, good times. So you're in...

Jack: 10th grade. I'm a sophomore. Back to your previous question, school sucks ass to be honest. But I can't complain too much. I'm passing and that's all that really matters.

Interviewer: Highschool wasn't the worst years of my life but they certainly weren't the best. I do remember my girlfriend my senior year. Jenny Thompson. Do you have a girlfriend, Jack?

Jack: [chokes on the drink he was previously sipping, his cheeks get noticeably red] No, sir.

Interviewer: Ah that's all right. You've got plenty of time. Tell me Jack, why did you pick electric guitar out of everything?

Jack: I knew it would piss my mom off. I also heard Ralph practicing one day and, I don't know, kinda decided that I wanted to do that too.

Interviewer: I see. Now, why rock? I'm more of a Beatle's fan myself so I'm not familiar with the rock genre.

Jack: Hey, the Beatles are awesome. I've loved rock ever since Ralph and Raven got me into it. My parents are...uptight, so we mainly listen to classical and country in my house. Anyways, I just love the pure, raw emotion in rock, you know? Plus, I love a good riff to play. Simon is, like, insanely good at drums so it's fun to play stuff with him.

Interviewer: [chuckles] I didn't picture you as much of a Beatles fan. Your folks like Johnny Cash?

Jack: No, not really.

Interviewer: Damn shame. I can't help but ask, your hair. Is there a reason you keep it so long?

Jack: Ralph likes it and my mom hates it.

Interviewer: I see. You seem to have a lot of teen angst. Any reason to that?

Jack: My parents are assholes. My mom is an entrepreneur and needs things to be perfect and done her way. My old man's got a thing for cigs and isn't home often. I don't mind really, I'm usually at Ralph's house anyways.

Interviewer: I'm sorry to hear about that. Your folks seem to be busy trying to manage work and home time. Now Ralph, you guys been friends for long?

Jack: I've known of him for a while but we became friends 8th grade year in english.

Interviewer: Ah, I see. That's cool, it's good to have close friends. I have just a few more questions written down here Jack. Sound good?

Jack: Hit me.

Interviewer: [snickers] Alright then. Who inspired your style of music?

Jack: Oh boy. Uhhhh let's see...Queen, for sure. ACDC as well. Billy Idol, Metallica, Talking Heads, Heart, Judas Priest, Pink Floyd, KISS, Ozzy, stuff like that.

Interviewer: You've got great taste from what I know, young man.

Jack: Thank you!

Interviewer: Alright, we are running out of time but I do have room for one last question. What do you hope the future of your band looks like?

Jack: Oh, that's a good question. I uh..I don't know to be honest. I just sorta take things one day at a time. I haven't thought that far ahead.

Interviewer: That's a shame. Well Jack, thanks for your time. It was a pleasure meeting you.

Jack: Same to you sir.

[The two stand up and shake hands]

[Video cuts]

[10:48]

#lord of the bands #tw:implied child abuse #lotf au #jack lord of the bands #lord of the band interviews #the start of the au #lotb #band au #celebrity interviews #jalph #implied jalph

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tempting-andromeda · 3 months

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On my hands and knees for some modern Tilly or Sadie headcanons (currently devouring your writing like a gourmet meal)

I LOVE WOMEN!!!!!

Modern Tilly and Sadie

Tilly

Fostered by Grimshaw

Used to start fights in elementary school

Got suspended once for gambling

Got super into “clean girl makeup”

She’s a trend follower yet somehow she does it better than others

SHES A HATER <3

Like in the best way possible

Works at an outlet store and hates it

But she gets a good discount so she’s okay with it

Has her license but doesn’t drive

Registered passenger princess

But she’s a decent driver

Genuinely good at organizing plans

Super big on girl code

She’s a bully to boys

Like John

She’s rather die than let him have a good day with her around

Sadie

Her and Jake fell fast and got married quickly

He died in a break in (still)

She’s a blue collar women

If I could describe her style it’s kinda masc(I don’t hc her as lesbian I’m so sorry I genuinely like her relationship with Jake)

She just likes flannels

Wears some of Jake’s old clothes a lot

Became talk of the town for a little bit so she kinda now hates everyone

She’s mean

This pussy BITES

Would rather act like she had rabies than anyone openly come up to her

But she is nice

Has a strict routine

Goes grocery shopping every Friday and before work she gets a McGriddle

Or like hash browns from a diner

Ofc with something else tho

I think she’d have tattoos

She takes good care of herself tho

Carries a cool ass Swiss Army knife and uses it for casual things

Awkward around kids

Smokes silver Marlbolo cigarettes

Likes country and folk music

Lil miss handy man

#andyrambles #I DO HC SADIE AS QUEER THO #because I want her.#Sadie please give me a chance #I have my rabies shots #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #sadie rdr2 #i love sadie #rdr2 sadie #sadie adler #tilly jackson #rdr2 tilly jackson #Tilly Jackson rdr2

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liminalpebble · 7 months

Note

How about meeting Eddie at a club and him being super confident, but when you finally get him home with you, he turns all shy and nervous? Like trips over his pants trying to get out of them, super nervous to touch you as he's not had that much experience, so you help him out and teach him? 🤭

Hello my love,

Thank you for this request from literally months ago. Sorry it's taken so long to get to, but I hope you love our adorkable dude in this.

P.s. Minors DNI

Little Red Heels

Half your closet was strewn over the bed of your new apartment and abandoned there as you left for the evening. It had been awhile since you'd really “gone out” and this would be the first time “out” in your new town of Hawkins. It was hard to decided on an outfit and it felt like everything you pulled on (then shrugged off with a huff) looked stupid on you.

You didn't know anyone yet, not really. There were just a few polite nods and waves as you made your way to your new cubicle each morning, but no one whose name you remembered and you would bet that they didn't remember yours either.

So when the hand-drawn and egregiously-photocopied flier slid through your mail slot, you read the red paper with a smirk:

The Hideout. Goth and Metal Night! Live music from Corroded Coffin and then Old School Goth and Industrial on the Dance Floor ALL NIGHT LONG.

Initially you rolled your eyes, but as the work week in the cubicle dragged on, you felt more and more lonely. You wanted to find weirdos like yourself.

------

So here you sat at 10 pm, perched on a bar stool, alone with your drink, waiting for the oblivion of dancing tipsy to your favorite familiar songs. You sipped on what the bartender charmingly called “coffin juice,” swirling the little straw in the blackish purple concoction. Cute, you thought, wincing at the too-sweet chemical flavor. At least it was cheap and strong.

It took longer than you hoped to settle on an outfit. You had arrived late, catching the tail end of band's set. They were a sloppy but talented thrash metal gang; the kind of guys who you were sure have been headbanging together since middle school. The songs were loud and catchy and you tapped your leg along with the beat, thinking maybe this could be fun after all.

----

You couldn't know the the guitarist was watching you from beneath the glaring lights of the stage. Your stoplight-red patent leather heels and your shiny vermilion lips caught his eye; the only pops of color in a sea of black and battle vests. He couldn't help running his eyes up the lattice of those black fishnets, over the shapely curve of your calf, up to where the hem of your skirt rode up your bouncing thigh. Nervous. He thought. Poor sweetheart, she's new and she's nervous. But damn, is she pretty.

Eddie didn't think he'd stand a chance, but he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna try.

Fake it til you make it. He thought, adding with a sigh...except I never make it.

-----

You noticed him. It was hard not to with his wild hair, and his chocolate-button eyes, and his frantic charisma. He definitely had a style, you had to give him that; a leather jacket laced with chains and a jean vest over the top, littered with patches and pins. He must be burning up in that get up. You thought, grinning slyly to yourself. Your horny touch-starved brain couldn't stop fantasizing about the possibility of getting him out of it. Down girl, you scolded yourself. You don't even know him and you're not a groupie. He's probably got a hoard of local girls waiting for him.

As the lights switched to the flashing pulses of the dance floor and the familiar tempo of Nine Inch Nails pounded out of the speaker, you slide off your stool. The local alternative folks didn't waste any time swarming the dance floor, so neither did you. You could be shy, it's true, but not about this...not about dancing. You knew how to move your body; how to slink, and tease, and flirt wordlessly in those heels like it was the easiest thing in the world. You liked this alter ego when she came out to play.

A few songs in, you saw a curly mop of hair and dark eyes making a beeline towards you in the flashing lights. It took a moment for you to realize it was the guitarist. Onstage he seemed almost burly under all those layers. Now in black jeans and a tee shirt he seemed slight and lanky, beautiful and borderline ethereal. Coming right up to you, he beamed a stunning smile that lifted the apples of his full cheeks and gave a little nod. He was silently imploring you, with those puppy dog eyes, for a dance. You giggled and nodded back with a smile. Under the loud thrum of the music you wouldn't be able to hear each other anyway, and you liked that. As an introvert, it was nice to not be obliged to speak and make small talk. It was a relief to simply connect in a different way...a way you were actually confident in.

You expected him to simply grind on you arrhythmically, the way so many guys tend to (thinking for some reason, that they're dancing and it's sexy), but he didn't. He was almost courtly, holding your hand and spinning your around, swaying close enough for you to smell his aftershave and the metallic tang of his metal and leather; to feel his broad palm against the small of your back. The nearness gave you an up-close view of those engulfing black-coffee eyes, but he never groped or grinded on you, respecting your space. You caught those dark orbs scanning hungrily up your legs, or glancing at your cleavage, but he was clearly trying to resist acting like an animal. You couldn't blame him for looking though, you were trying to get him to notice your best assets, after all.

In the quiet space between songs, when the DJ's switched out, you got on your toes, bracing on his shoulder to say into his ear, “What's your name?”. Even that small touch, sent electricity to you, buzzing from the heat of his skin, the feel of his body under your hand.

Eddie knew he was a goner when you did that. It was too cute. Your little sweet-smelling body pressed against him, up on your toes and lips grazing his ear in a way that gave him shivers. He slid his hand around your waist, pulling you close enough to hear him. There was a confidence to the way he guided you closer before his full lips grazed the skin just under your ear. He spoke his name softly. “Eddie Munson...at your service”.

You stepped away just enough to meet each others eyes and smile as you told him your name. He repeated it as if he were tasting the syllables, considering their flavor, then said, “That's a beautiful name. Thank you for the dance.” Eddie took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, looking up at you from beneath those thick dark lashes. It undid you and you couldn't resist asking the question that'd been screaming in your head all night.

“Wanna come over to my place?”

The smile he gave you was so bright it could light up a whole stadium. Eddie Munson felt like he just won the lottery.

-----

Entering your apartment was a challenge with his lips glued to yours and his tongue dancing in your mouth. Your hands were equally reluctant to part from feeling each others bodies long enough to unlock the door and fling yourselves inside your living room. The door slammed shut and you slammed against it while the keys clattered, forgotten, to the floor. You slid his jackets off, enjoying the feeling of his frame through the soft cotton of his tee shirt instead. His hands traveled along the curve of your waist, cradled your cheeks, stroked your hair, and he moaned. And god, it was such a sweet sound coming from such a sweet mouth. It charmed you, how he resisted carelessly groping you like a horny teenager. He was careful and considerate, bordering on hesitant. Was...was he nervous?

You separated for a moment, both of you catching your breath. You giggled and swiped away some of your lipstick where it had smeared over his face. He laughed too, asking sarcastically, “Am I pretty now?” with a dopey grin that made both of you crack up for a second.

“So fucking pretty, Eddie,” you said sincerely, and a red flush appeared across his cheeks that had nothing to do with the lipstick.

“Not...not as pretty as you are...baby.” he said, then winced and muttered to himself at the corny line. He meant it, but the delivery made it fall flat and he suddenly looked like a deer in headlights. “Uh...sorry...that was stupid.” He said pathetically, “please...don't run away,” realizing a half second too late that it was, in fact, your house and you literally couldn't.

You giggled again, but it was clearly kind and sweet, more with him than at him. You winked and said, “Promise I won't. I'm just going to the sink to help clean you up.”

He watched as you kicked off your heels and sashayed into the kitchen. Eddie studied every succulent move as you found a clean cloth, waited for the tap to get warm and lathered a little soap into it; everything deliberate and graceful. He looked on, mesmerized, as you came back to him, hips swaying and eyes shining. You dabbed the warm cloth over his plush pretty cheeks, his full lips, and then over your own.

“You are soooo sweet, honey. You know that? Just something about you. Goddamn,” he said. And you could tell it wasn't just a line. He meant it with all his heart, and it warmed yours.

You glanced down at his chest a little shyly, blushing. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” You were joking but he put his hands up, eyes wide with sudden panic.

Animated, he muttered, “No! No no. Uh no no no. Um...there aren't other girls...or guys. I'm not gay...or bi or....”. He shook his head and his curls wiggled with him, like a dog shaking off water, as he was growing increasingly annoyed with himself. “Not that that matters! Well...actually I guess in this case it sort of matters,” he rambled on, squinting quizzically. You listened sweetly and patiently, genuinely charmed by his awkwardness. Who'd have thought that this charismatic guitar god on stage would be such a squirrely little nerd otherwise? You were enamored all the more by it, but he couldn't know that. He was still terrified. You covered your mouth with your hand as you chuckled, genuinely extremely amused and interested, trying not to full-out guffaw at how funny he was.

The dam finally broke when you saw his tee shirt. Without your heels you were now eye level with his chest and noticing the design for the first time. It was a dragon snaked around a castle; the kind of thing one might see airbrushed on the side of a van. Additionally, Eddie clearly wasn't some hipster wearing it ironically which made it even better. He was just some guy...who liked dragons.

You chuckled explosively now. The awkwardness becoming far too much and bursting at the seams. Before you knew it, you were both crying with laughter, falling all over each other as you dragged him to the bedroom by his stupid little shirt saying, “you are such a little dork, and I love it.”

He gave a dimpled grin, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, handsome,” you said in a breathy whisper right into his ear, “it makes me what to do bad things to you.”

The sentence went strait to Eddie's already stiff cock as he followed you like a zombie under a witch's spell. You ran your nails under his shirt, thumbs meeting at the little trail of hair above his belt. Then your palms traveled up his chest, sliding his shirt off. You slinked you long nails over the warm bare skin of his torso, tracing the ink of his tattoos while he closed his eyes and groaned, goosebumps shivering over his skin.

“That is some witchcraft you're doing to me, sweetheart. God...can I touch you?”

You smiled, feeling drunk with arousal. “I've been waiting for that all night. Please, don't make me wait anymore,” you said, almost begging and pouting. You shoved him backwards onto your bed, forgetting it was still strewn with clothes. Realizing this, Eddie shot back up and said, “Oh sorry...let me just,” scooping up the pile and setting it gently into a chair. You were dumbstruck, mouth falling open at the sudden act. Clocking your confusion, he explained, resting his hands on his hips, “I just...I just didn't want to make a mess on your clothes”.

This time you pulled him to you by the belt, deciding to go straight to the nuclear option, saying breathily, “Eddie Munson, right now I wouldn't care if you come all over every single item of clothes I own, as long as you fuck me into that mattress.”

To emphasize your point, you pulled your dress over your head, revealing the red and black lingerie matching your thigh-highs. You put one perfectly manicured nail to his lips and continued. “Listen to me. I've never even gotten a chance to wear this lingerie before. It's been almost a year and a half since...you know. And right now...” you dropped to a whisper as you began to undo his belt, the chains jostling heavily in your fingers. “These sweet little lace panties are absolutely soaked because of how badly I want you. If they get absolutely trashed and don't survive til morning because of you, I'll be the happiest girl in the world.”

He groaned and sighed, relaxing, finally. He laced his fingers into your hair and pulled lightly while he slid one calloused finger between the smooth dripping lips of your pussy. You gasped at the contact, then purred at him, “Mmm. Atta boy.”

“Fuck...you're so hot,” he groaned, head dropping right between your tits and lapping, savoring the salt of your skin. His fingers worked at your bra clasps, gently at first and then losing patience and yanking it down to bare your tits to him.

You yelped in happy surprise, unhooking the garment properly and letting it fall to the floor. He latched greedily onto your nipple, sucking and swirling around first one and then the other until he got exactly the sounds he wanted from you, the sounds that made his cock strain harder against the fabric. You helped him shed his layers, then drank in the sight of him completely naked.

You gasped, “God, you're gorgeous, Eddie.”

He came up close, pulling your hips against him with the other hand buried in your hair. He licked his hot tongue up your jugular vein, ending with a kiss behind your ear and whispered, delivering the line again with a new confidence, “Not as pretty as you are, baby. Now put those little red heels back on and get rid of those panties.”

@veemoon @elegantkoalapaper @sweetsigyn @sunflowerdaydreamer @leelei1980 @little-wormwood @hellfirenacht @unfocused81

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #lovely fanfic friends #lovely asks #lovely mutuals #lovely prompts

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zanniscaramouche · 9 months

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No one can claim that I'm fast, but hey! I finally had a moment to sit down and find some fics for a lovely anon who wandered into my inbox looking for classical musician!larry. A few of these are a little bit of a stretch, but hopefully there's something here you enjoy! You'll see little blue hearts along with a lil comment from me on those I have read (admittedly not that many, oops) This is definitely an AU I'd love to see more fic for! It's possible there's more out there, alas it doesn't seem to be commonly tagged. Make sure to tag your fics folks! It makes filtering for things like this so much easier! 💙

🎼 the school of extraordinary lovers // stylinsoncity @stylinsoncity - 191k "We keep telling the other, I love you and I love you, and we do, though we both know where the knives are." - Laura Van Prooyen

harry is a third-year witch and violinist at Laitswold, the only magical academy in the UK, with dreams of taking on the world, and hopefully breaking the centuries-old curse on his family while he's at it. he does not dream of facing off against his childhood rival and duet partner, but louis is back in town after six years abroad, so that's exactly what happens.

🎼 Love Is A Rebellious Bird // 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews - 134k AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

💙 zannithinks: one of those 'classics' that many love! I really enjoyed this fic, and as someone who hears Bolero every year at a local festival I think of this fic often

🎼 Saving Symphony Hall // HelloAmHere @helloamhere - 124k “I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

💙 zannithinks: I looooove this one! A well developed world and lovable OC's, this is definitely the first fic I think of when I think Larry and Classical Music

🎼 Where Words Fail, Music Speaks // Larry_you_know @larryyouknow - 45k Louis is a world class violinist. He’s one year over forty, living his best life in New York. One day, he comes to a small town in Connecticut where he inherited a house from his late father. The town looks nice and its people welcome him warmly. The problem is that Louis never knew his father and he doesn’t intend to change anything about it - his father can stuff his last will up his treacherous ass. In a strange coincidence, Louis meets town troubadour Harry, who seems wonderful to him just right until he reveals that Louis’ father was like a dad to him.

Even though Louis tries to convince himself that it shouldn’t - it hurts.

🎼 Until You Remember // Throwthemflowers - 21k Talented London pianist Louis Tomlinson moves to a small coastal town to escape the elites of his job and the mundanity of his life. Through the music of Debussy he finds a charming, wonderful friend in Harry Styles, the fiancé of the town's mayor. Louis thinks his pining is in vain until he discovers that all may not be as it seems….

🎼 And I'll Be Here When Only the Silence Remains // louisniall @louisniaii - 19k The one where Louis is a top notch mute violinist and Harry might just be the person he trusts most

🎼 Back to the Sign, and Play Through the End // tomlinsunshine - 17k Louis is a globally renowned pianist; Harry is the worst page turner this world has ever known.

🎼 Take more of my space, why don't you? // otfuckingp - 10k Of course, the universe is not on Louis’ side, nor on the side of his mental health. Just as he starts to think they might get away with this empty seat -- yes, they. He and Instrument Man are in this together, a united front against the forces of any more people-- one more person steps onto the plane. He bypasses the first fifteen rows without so much as a falter, but the fact that he slows around 17 gives Louis pause. There aren’t many empty seats in this section... Surely not. Surely the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to do this to him.

And then there’s another body landing in the seat next to Instrument Man. Well, “landing” might be too polite. Crashing, is more like it. Within the first ten seconds, he’s elbowed instrument Man in the side, dropped something on the floor, and nearly tripped a stewardess with the exuberant flailing of his legs. All in all, completely shattering the tentative silence in row 21 DEF. Fuck.//

Harry and Louis meet on a plane. Louis is not impressed, until he is.

🎼 What is simple in the moonlight, never really is. // judgementdays @judgementdays - 5k And then they're talking, like they always do on late nights. They talk about the future, about the cute girl who was checking Harry out at Tesco's, about the cute boy who asked for Louis' number the other day. They mostly end up talking about their auditions for the school of their dreams, though.

Louis plays piano and Harry plays guitar and they're both trying to get into Juilliard but feelings sort of happen.

🎼 Play Me Something Sweet // nonsensedarling @absolutenonse - 4k “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Louis says. Harry just looks at him and lifts an eyebrow in silent question. “How about if you pretend I’m your cello as you try it out, like we used to?” Or Harry's good at a lot of instruments, but his favorite one to play is Louis.

💙 zannithinks: this one is spicey!!!!

🎼 And I've got something missing tonight. // whisperedbrave @louistomlindaughter - 2k That night, much like many others, he finishes his dinner and falls asleep to the sound of his neighbor and his piano.

or the one where Harry's upstairs neighbor plays the piano every night. one night he stops and Harry can't sleep.

#tracksintheam #trackinghome #hlficlibrary #hlcreators #hljournal #larry stylinson #larry #larry fic #larry fanfic #one direction #harry styles #louis tomlinson #1d library #1dlibrary #zanni fic rec #still not sure how that became a tag i use #classical musicians #fic rec

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thedrarrylibrarian · 10 months

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Several people have been kind enough to let me publish their thoughts on fandom, community, and queerness to celebrate Pride in the Library. Today's piece comes from @wolfpants.

Dear readers, dreamers, and purveyors of the glittering, gilded aisles of the Drarry Library,

Fandom life began for me at age fifteen. We just got our first family computer, taking pride of place in the utility room between the boiler and my dad’s boxes of tools. I had recently come out as bisexual to my friends at school, who, props to them, had all taken it quite well despite the small town we grew up in (I was very lucky, they were great - everyone else though? Not so much). Still, even with supportive friends offline, I never felt like I could talk to them about what I really enjoyed: watching Buffy, reading Harry Potter and looking for queer subtext (I could never have convinced any of them that Harry’s story screams gay allegory–no matter what JKR has to say on the topic back then or now), scouring bookshops and libraries for any sort of queer content I could get my hands on, desperate as I was to read something that spoke to me, to read about love outside of the heteronormative landscape of the popular media. I wasn’t just tired of boy-meets-girl; I had never identified with it in the first place.

The year we got dial-up internet was the year I discovered Livejournal. The absolute joy I felt, stumbling upon an LJ community specifically dedicated to roleplaying Harry Potter characters in queer pairings. Discovering, beyond that, that people wrote stories about Harry and my other favourite queer-coded character of the series: Draco Malfoy. And then it was Wolfstar (specifically Sirius), then Drarry again, and somewhere along the way my lurking fell off and I stopped reading fic for a while when I moved to London and settled into my first job, my first real relationship, and sitting uncomfortably atop my bisexual identity and not really knowing where that shift happened and why. All the while, I was pursuing a writing career on the more journalistic side: writing for music and film outlets, doing a little bit of secret creative writing on the side, dipping in and out of HP RPGs but never really—connecting. In “real life”, my relationship with my ex was falling apart, and I felt very disconnected from the LGBTQIA+ community because, even though I knew I belonged, I never felt like I could be truly me with anyone—perhaps because I was, unknowingly, still discovering who I really was.

When the pandemic happened, it gave me the breathing space I needed to get to that point. It brought me back to fandom.

It started with reading The Popular Wolfstar Fic Everyone Was Reading, and reopening my ao3 account to re-read some old favourites from over the years. It then unrolled to, hey, I have some free time, why don’t I try writing my own Wolfstar fic for my oldest, dearest friend (who I met RPing on LJ at 15!), which then turned into: you should publish this, and see what happens.

So, I did. And I made a tumblr account, and I lurked for a while, shyly reblogging things and scrolling through author accounts I’d admired from a very young age, astonished and really fucking impressed that they were still in the game. I read their new fics, I was drawn back into Drarry, and from there I discovered what a wonderful community this is, not only for its immensely talented creatives, but for its values as a inclusive, equitable, supportive, uplifting, and joyful group of individuals who genuinely welcome everyone with open arms and love. That, in itself, has made it easy to reach out to like-minded folks here, to make life-long friends, to chat to people who have been through similar experiences in questioning their identities (it is truly thanks to this fandom and the many discussions I’ve had with people here that I’ve been able to realise my identity as a NB lesbian). To write! To share! To not be ashamed of my kinks and to discover fun, delicious rare pairs! To look at breathtaking art and read some of the best goddamn writing I’ve ever set eyes on!

I have spent thirty-seven years on this planet. A good chunk of that time has been spent questioning many parts, pieces, and niggly jiggly bits of my identity. Who am I? What am I? Is there anyone out there who is just like me?

After many years of searching in the dark, of asking these questions over and over, I can joyously say that the answer is: yes. And oh, how thankful I am for that, for all of you, because fandom has really been the community I can categorically point to and say: they did that for me, we did that for we, and I will do anything for you.

Happy pride.

Thank you, Wolf, for joining me in the Library. Your love and joy for fandom have left me feeling quite tender-hearted, in the best way. It's so so good to ask the question "Is there anyone out there who is just like me?" and find over and over that the answer chorusing back is "yes." Thank you for adding your yes to our chorus, and joining me for Pride in the Library.

If you want more @wolfpants be sure to check out their work on AO3! I can't help but recommend the fic that made me fall in love with her writing in the first place, Pages of You, which I've featured previously for Happy Hour. It's got Drarry and Wolfstar, and is one of my favorite comfort rereads.

🏳️‍🌈 Lots of Love and Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈

#pride 2023 #pride in the library #pride in the library 2023 #lots of love and happy pride #friends of the library #fandom community #wolfpants

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sinceileftyoublog · 2 years

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Grant-Lee Phillips Interview: A Great Deal of Shared Experience

Photo by Denise Siegel-Phillips

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Singer-songwriter Grant-Lee Phillips was one of many artists who released an album during the pandemic that ended up being prescient. No, it’s not an obvious foreshadowing. His 10th studio album wasn’t titled anything having to do with masks or distancing or viruses. But the idea of his daughter screaming, “Come on lightning, show us your stuff” and the words resonating with Phillips enough to name an album after it is strangely consistent with that increased rediscovery of “the small things” many of us experienced over a time where we needed to stay separate from other people. It’s the immediate surroundings of nature that grounded Phillips when, after being forced to promote Lightning, Show Us Your Stuff via livestream only, he decided to give up dreams of touring any time soon and sit and write new material. Used to writing on the road with what he calls “a proper balance of stimulation and boredom,” Phillips opted for daily drives to the Tennessee countryside with his family to generate that previously missing sense of motion. They also gave him solace in the face of what was happening globally--a pandemic--and nationally, the 2020 U.S. Presidential Election and the January 6th, 2021 Insurrection.

Phillips slowly got used to writing from home and ended up churning out the songs that would eventually make up his 11th studio album All That You Can Dream, released last month via Yep Roc. Obviously, at the time of writing, the events of January 6th were top of mind and ended up inspiring songs like “Rats in a Barrel” and “Peace Is a Delicate Thing”. On the latter, Phillips compares peace to “snow on the ground,” as if the very concept that we take for granted is seasonal, dependent on who’s in power at the time. The general horrors of the Trump administration and its role as the beginning of the end rather than a blip inspire “Cut to the Ending” and “My Eyes Have Seen”, the latter specifically referring to the crisis at the U.S.-Mexico border. The overall trauma of the past few years manifested in “Cannot Trust The Ground”, whose title refers to the modes of thought of someone who has lived through earthquakes but makes the case that our collective societal turmoil is somewhat of a quake itself. Phillips also wrote songs for the people he spent most of his time with--himself and his family--in the form of “You Can’t Hide” and “Remember This”, the latter dedicated to his teenage daughter.

Once he had the songs written, Phillips reached out to many of his usual collaborators--drummer Jay Bellerose, bassist Jennifer Condos, keyboardist Jamie Edwards, pedal steel guitarist Eric Heywood, and cellist Richard Dodd--to add more sonic elements to the songs. (Phillips produced, recorded, engineered, and mixed the record at his Nashville home.) The pump organ of “Peace Is a Delicate Thing” gives it a nostalgic quality, as if Phillips is nostalgic for a bygone era where the entirety of American society wasn’t constantly under threat of violence. The subtle drum rumbles below the gentle acoustic guitar picking on “Cannot Trust the Ground” perfectly mirror the song’s sentiment. But as usual, the basis of the songs are as solo arrangements on acoustic guitar, and that’s why now, when Phillips is able to finally tour again, he’s still playing solo. “It’s something I’m at ease with,” he told me over the phone last month. “I can go to musical places--emotional places--on my own. That’s kind of where this material is formed. The moment conception takes place on a couch at home, or changing my strings in a hotel room in a foreign country. To carry that straight through to the final performance makes sense when you think about it.”

Phillips plays Friday night at the Old Town School of Folk Music. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: The songs on All That You Can Dream are born out of such a specific time and place, written in somewhat of an isolation. Is it sort of weird to play them to an audience?

Grant-Lee Phillips: No, I wouldn’t say so. I feel like this is a situation where we’ve had a lot of shared experiences, be it isolation or anxiety. All of these things that have driven us inward back into our homes and minds. Even beyond language [barriers], there’s a great deal of shared experience. And it’s not as though we’re out of the woods. I’d love to believe we were. But I think the residue and trauma of what we went through is something we’ll be working through for some time, as well as the reality that we live in a time where we could see another rise of variants or you name it. It’s an unsettling era we’re existing in.

SILY: You’re used to turning back songs that have layers and elements into the solo performance they were born out of. But were there any unique challenges in doing that with this particular batch of songs?

GLP: Not especially. I have a different relationship to them. It’s like bringing them up as children, as seedlings of ideas or sketches. There are so many points in time where they could have gone a different way that only I’m privy to. The listener knows the composition as a layered, sonic experience, but it doesn’t really throw me to play a song like “All That You Can Dream” even though the album version is based in the piano and the production I apply to the arrangement. I guess I’m always kind of aware of that. Even with Grant Lee Buffalo, we had to be aware of who we were on an album and who we were on stage. In hindsight, I’ve come to realize the distinction wasn’t so different. You can go back and get it right on a record, I guess, but sometimes, you would chase your tail trying to find what would happen spontaneously when you stepped on a stage and plugged in. All of these musicians are chasing after that perfect way to get the song and the track.

SILY: There are a few songs here about Jan 6, 2021. You talk about history and our ideas and awareness (or lack thereof) of history repeating itself. On “Rats in a Barrel”, you sing, “I’m done with mercy / I’m all tapped out.” Do you find you have empathy fatigue for certain groups of people that participated in such activities?

GLP: I have to think about that. My feeling is that there are lots of people who have, for their own reasons, believed in things that were untrue and not to their benefit. The values of those who thought they were doing the patriotic thing of that day. I don’t have an omnipotent view of everyone who was there and who played a role in that. I think we’re only beginning to get a sense of those at the core and the planning and who would gain the most from retaining power. That is yet to be revealed, which is a very frustrating place to be for a lot of us in this country. The feeling that justice is delayed if absent for those who should be held accountable. Meanwhile, down here on the ground, where all of us live and do our work, justice comes quite rapidly, for the person with a broken taillight or outdated registration. Some of that frustration is the kind of thing that actually fuels such resentment, but where does that resentment go? It festers, and tragically, that very resentment--which is real and grounded in reality at times--is used to wrangle the mob against their own interests and certainly against the interests of a democratic society, a country that should be lifting one another up. But I’m very concerned. I lose a lot of sleep over it.

SILY: I was struck on “Cut To The Ending” when you sing, “History is told by an old man / Who survived the wars / Little talk of spineless enablers / Ones who held the door.” Why do you think we tend to forget the enablers of bad history?

GLP: Oh, gosh. There’s a point in time where the generations that experienced the atrocity no longer walk the earth. We live in a time where it’s almost criminal to impart or teach history, in [worlds] of strongmen and despots. You can see the way a society turns to a person who seems to have all the answers and like a steamroller plows over everyone who comes in their way and challenges their power. There was a story that I read how in the shadow of Mussolini, [Italy] looked towards him as a symbol of strength and masculinity, and many young men carried a picture of him in their pocket. Whether they did literally or not, that was the image of who a person they [thought they] should be. Might was always right. When it came to Hitler, the tragic mantra was always, “We can control him. We can use this guy and the numbers he has behind him and the impetus to exploit him.” What a tragic mantra. Those who hold the door and hang on to their little slipper of power, they too will come to realize they made decisions that weren’t in their best interest in the long term. That’s what that song is about. “Cut To The Ending” as if we’re watching another horror film where we know what’s gonna happen. You know what’s gonna happen when you mix certain chemicals.

SILY: When you sing, “A fool won’t listen to reason / Till he’s gone too far,” I thought of all the stories of unvaccinated folks in the hospital, previously adamant about not getting vaccinated, dying from COVID and begging nurses to give them the shot and the nurses saying, “Sorry, I can’t give it to you.”

GLP: The thought that there are so many who might have survived this period, the first, second, third waves of this pandemic had it not become so tribal: That’s beyond tragic. I’m not one to leap into every opportunity to get a vaccination. I’m not an anti-vaxxer, but even the flu shot, I think, “What is it? Do I have to get it?” I understand apprehension, especially when it comes to a situation they’re not used to. But the Trump administration did us no favors in how it was dealt with. I feel like the health officials were very slow to act. On one hand, it’s a miracle we have been able to develop vaccines, but we were told by officials, “Don’t wear a mask.” We were condescended to in that fashion. Though she defends her position, [former White House Coronavirus Response Coordinator] Dr. [Deborah] Birx was quick to pat Trump on the back about his head for details and not her own head as he blathered onward about bleach and lightbulbs and whatever else he was on about. I think that was a real low moment. I think people died because of it. What can you say? I don’t judge people who make those decisions--I have compassion for anyone who is being ripped off or hoodwinked. I feel like there’s been a lot of that.

SILY: On “My Eyes Have Seen”, you talk about the horrors of WWII and the border during the Trump administration. But I can’t help but think that the irony of that song is there’s still so much our eyes haven’t seen.

GLP: That’s true. That’s a good observation. My inspiration was pretty firmly planted in the border crisis. I hadn’t thought of the other implications you hit upon. But I think you can most certainly see parallels anywhere where people are targeted and become refugees of their own country, as is the case in Ukraine, or wherever. But the things that we don’t see is such a good point. We lived through the war in Iraq, and so much of that was really hidden from us as well. You don’t want to even entertain those thoughts--you want to believe the government is doing the right thing and that, “We’re the good guys.” But it hasn’t always been the case.

SILY: This record’s certainly not all political. A few tracks are strictly personal to you. Take the sentiment of “You Can Hide”, for instance, “You can’t hide no more than the sun or moon can hide.” Is that an oddly comforting message to yourself, or more of a warning?

GLP: That is very much a song to myself. I share it hoping it will strike a chord for someone else. But there is sort of a double meaning. We can’t hide from all of the things we’ve previously discussed. That is the world we live in. But we can’t hide from our nature to find joy and to laugh and be communal, [either]. All of these impulses to protect ourselves to be on guard against threat, but to socialize and pull together is in us, too. Sometimes, those very beautiful human impulses are exploited. The desire to respond as a group and marshal such power when we truly need to. That song is about those things, and also about trying to pull myself out of my dark place. It’s easy to go there and not want to come out.

SILY: You have a song for your daughter on here where you reference disagreements. You talk a lot politically about not thinking the same way as someone else, but the way you talk about it with your daughter, it’s more loving. How do you balance these different perspectives?

GLP: As a teenager, you’re trying to establish your independence. That’s that tug of war. It was nice to spend time off the road with my daughter, helping her with her homework, brushing up on the things I didn’t pay attention to the first time around. That’s one of the lyrics in that song: “We don’t always think the same / Not a crime to disagree.” And that is true, especially in that context. We have to find ourselves and make our own mistakes and come to our own conclusions, perform our own experiments. She’s preoccupied with traipsing through the woods and setting traps for lizards, and I’m the one saying, “Watch out for ticks!” That’s a different context than the political disagreements we [all] have. In the arena of social media, it’s difficult to have the kinds of conversations that would produce meaningful understanding. It’s kind of like Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots on Twitter, trying to get the last word in. You just follow the people that seem fairly balanced and insightful. There’s plenty to disagree with. I open up Twitter in the morning, and it’s like sticking my head in a furnace. The fire singes my eyebrows off, and I begin another day.

SILY: These songs were written a couple years ago. What else is next for you? Are you currently working on anything?

GLP: Someone from [Yep Roc] brought it to my attention that it was 20 months ago that I released my last record. These days, the thing that takes the longest is the packaging and manufacturing, especially vinyl. In the case of this record, that took many, many months. We finished it 9 months in advance to get everything lined up. I’ve been a prolific writer. I began writing this album a few months after the last one came out. I worked on it through the winter and spring, and by early summer, I handed it into the record company. We began figuring out how long it would take. It was a long time. So at this point, I anticipate more touring. Hopefully I’ll be back in Europe in December, possibly on the West Coast in the fall. I have some intriguing concerts in the coming year in France and the UK. I think in some ways I’m at the point where I want to savor touring and performing and playing all the songs I’ve recorded lately.

SILY: Is there anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

GLP: I’ve been really taken with Angel Olsen. I’ve got a couple different biographies to read. I’m also reading a [Geoffrey R. Stone’s] Sex and the Constitution, which is about sexuality and how it was dealt with going back to the Ancient Greeks, Romans, and Middle Ages, and the influence of Saint Augustine onward. How we got to this point in time where Supreme Court judges cite witch-burning jurors from 300 years ago to make the judgements of the day. [laughs] Good light reading.

youtube

#interviews #live picks #grant-lee phillips #yep roc #old town school of folk music #all that you can dream #denise siegel-phillips #lightning show us your stuff #jay bellerose #jennifer condos #jamie edwards #eric heywood #richard dodd #grant lee buffalo #angel olsen #geoffrey r. stone #sex and the constitution

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urbs-in-horto · 1 year

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#chicago #hild library #old town school of folk music

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thatlovinfeelin · 2 years

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Eye Of The Storm -one- Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Baby Kazansky OC X Rooster

Molly was back in San Diego for her last spring break. Her two girl friends from college wanted to experience life outside of a military base, especially after a few videos of young Naval aviators went viral a few months back. The whole flight they wouldn’t shut up about finding a hot shot flyboy to have fun with for the week.

Molly was just excited to be home and see her family. The heat and the ocean wouldn’t be a bad thing either. Going to college all the way on the other side of the country in Connecticut was hard for her. She was exceptionally close to her family, but maybe that’s what made her go all the way to UConn. Just so she could breathe a little for once.

“C’mon Moll! You have to know where all of the guys are hiding!” Her friend Bethany nudged her from the backseat.

“Girls, there’s a lot more to Fightertown than the men,” Molly laughed, “But, the best bar in town is swarming. So, you’ll have your pick.”

“You are a goddess Molly!” Erika, the other cheered, “Booze and men.”

“Yeah, just try to keep it to a minimum, please. Last thing I need is word spreading that the youngest daughter of the Commander of the Fleet and all of her friends are working their way through a whole fighter squadron.”

“Hear that E? Mom wants us to behave,” Bethany pouted.

“For my sake, yes, I do want you to behave,” Molly laughed, “I told the folks that we were stopping off at the Hard Deck before we came on in.”

“What’s that?” Erika questioned.

“Ladies, that’s the bar. Not only do I want a hefty drink, but an old friend bought the place,” Molly had a sly smile as she turned down a familiar road, her old pickup jostling in the gravel, “Ah, looks like the party already started.”

The outside of the bar was swarming with Naval personnel, all in uniform like they’d just come from the base. Molly couldn’t help but smile, this was home. She wasn’t sure when she was last here. There was the internship last summer, so she didn’t come home then, and they came to her over the holidays.

Molly had to stop herself from running right through the front door. She grew up coming here, even if this would be her first time back since she turned twenty-one. She used to sip on lemonade at the bar while her dad played darts and pool with all of his coworkers. Sometimes there were other kids with her, so she wasn’t alone. Other times, she learned how to entertain herself.

“You have two hours,” Molly warned the other two girls, “Don’t make me drag both of you out.”

“Yeah yeah Mother Bliz,” Erika waved her off, “I’m going for a beer.”

Moments after, the three young women went their separate ways, all disappearing into the crowd. Molly found herself leaning against the half wall by the pool tables. Two shots and a beer was all it took to loosen her up, allow her to sway slightly to the music. The bar buzzed around her, filling her with a sort of energy that she missed. Every now and again, Penny Benjamin would glance her way, making sure Molly was still doing alright.

It seemed strange that Penny owned the place now, but it also seemed utterly right. She couldn’t remember a time that she saw Penny so relaxed and happy.

“Well, haven’t seen you before,” A man leaned next to Molly, a shit eating grin spread across his face.

“For good reason,” Molly replied, not wanting to play this game with anyone tonight, “I go to school in Connecticut.”

“Well, I bet you need someone to warm you up after freezing out there, don’t you?”

“Can’t say I do,” She bit back, “I think I do just fine by myself.”

He moved closer to her, causing her to step back, running into an empty table. She searched for Beth or Erika, hoping they might get this guy off of her, but they were happily busy playing darts with a couple of men. Penny was busy serving, so she couldn’t help either.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone, now should she?”

“Look, you don’t want to go down this road, I promise,” She swore, “Walk away.”

She hated telling people who her father was. Sometimes it egged them on, they wanted the challenge of her, the danger she came with. Other times, it made them run for the hills. But she felt like in this case, it would only egg this guy on.

He moved closer, further crowding into her space.She was used to things like this happening, she lived in a college town with a lot of hot shot athletes. But something about the man before her scared the shit out of her, like she somehow knew she wouldn’t be able to get away from this.

“Hey man, she said to leave her alone,” Another, taller, man spoke, grabbing the shoulder of the guy in front of her, “Take a walk before you have the bell rung.”

Molly let out a deep breath, sinking back into the wall behind her. The man that now stood before her looked older, kinder even. Something about him seemed familiar too, almost like the smell of the ocean just outside, or the sound of jets flying overhead.

“Are you okay?” The man asked her.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” She responded, taking note of now the man seemed to tower over her, “Sometimes I forget how pushy some of you guys are. Which is odd, considering I’ve seen it my whole life.”

“I assume you grew up around a base then?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer.

She felt oddly comfortable next to him, like standing next to a warm fire in the middle of a winter blizzard, “Right down the street actually. This place is like a second home.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” He laughed, “I’m Brad.”

“Molly,” She replied, shaking his outstretched hand, “Nice to meet you. And uh, thanks for stepping in. If he got any closer, I might’ve had to make sure he couldn’t sit down for a while.”

He let out a laugh, his brown eyes seeming to twinkle in the dim light, “I don’t doubt that you could. Can I get you another beer?”

“Uh, no I’m good thank you,” She replied, shaking her still half full bottle, “Besides, I need to reign in those two over there by the dartboard. Can’t leave them behind.”

Brad cracked another smile, “Those guys are harmless, for the most part, I work with them. But, c’mon I’ll help.”

“Oh no, that’s okay, I can manage,” She laughed, “I’m a lot tougher than I look. They like to tell me that I have ice in my veins.”

He hummed, taking a step back, “Somehow I doubt that. But it was nice to meet you, Molly.”

“You too Brad,” She couldn’t help but smirk, taking one more good look at the man, “Take it easy on base.”

He watched as she walked away, her sundress bouncing as she did. Bradley didn’t normally look for girls when everyone went to the Hard Deck. Normally he just wanted to drink, shoot pool, and hang out with the rest of the crew. But something about the girl in the corner with russet hair and wild eyes made him stop.

She glanced over her shoulder once she made it to the other two women, not surprised to find Brad right where she left him. She couldn’t help but smirk as he winked at her. She knew she looked older thanks to the five pounds of makeup Erika caked on before they left their hotel in Los Angeles, but she was often mistaken for someone in their mid twenties, not the twenty-one year old that she was. Tonight, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Beth leaned into Molly, “Maybe you found yourself someone.”

Molly laughed, elbowing her friend, “No. But damn, even with the porn stache he’s hot as hell.”

“Girl, live a little for once. Have some fun. It’s not like you’ll see him again.”

Molly drank the rest of her beer, closing her eyes for a moment. The old 80’s rock flooded her senses, putting her at such peace. She realized how much she missed being home. How much she missed the atmosphere of this place. She missed feeling like she just could lift off and fly away with the jets overhead.

Molly Kazansky was home after years of being away. And she couldn’t have been happier.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun 2 #Kazansky oc

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if-only-angels-could-prevail · 6 months

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Hi! Long-time follower here ig lmao. I'm moving to Chicago next week, any recommendations for stuff (to do/eat/see/go, etc.)?

oh lol this is such a huge question! and it also depends which area you're moving to. ummmm if you like theatre, there's a TON, more than i can keep track of tbh. but if you want something cool and late-night, the neo-futurists is a very Chicago thing to do. i think the two most famous regional theatres in chicago are the goodman and steppenwolf. they both do great work, and they're a good starting point. also shout out to the court theatre, blank theatre company, theatre wit, trap door theatre, a red orchid theatre, and lyric opera. i've adored at least one show from each of these companies (and they all do VERY different work).

in my neighborhood (andersonville), check out the bookstores women and children first, and uncharted books. and if you like thrifting, check out brown elephant. (i'm also addicted to going to tuesday night piano karaoke at elixir in andersonville lol. if you end up going sometime, there's like a 50% chance i'll be there)

the chicago symphony is where i spend most of my evenings these days tbh (the promo code "student" will get you a ticket discount lol)

the art institute is just as good as you've heard. the MCA also rules.

some of my personal favorite live music venues are: SPACE in Evanston, Old Town School of Folk Music, city winery in the loop, and constellation. i like these venues because they have chairs and i'm tired of going to concerts where i'm constantly bumping into twinks with $12 white claws, but also because they program great music at relatively affordable prices.

if you like dancing/nightlife, i like sidetrack, queen on sunday nights at smartbar (amazing djs), a diy queer drag party called boots (they're on instagram), and berlin (berlin is where the cool queers go, and has arguably the best drag in chicago--keep in mind it does get a bit crowded and claustrophobic). (NVM, BERLIN WORKERS JUST ANNOUNCED THEY’RE ON STRIKE, SO DON’T GO THERE LOL). the drag competition on thursday nights at charlie's is also a fabulous time.

oh and if you like going to movies, you have to check out the gene siskel film center (the best programming in the city), the music box (the COOLEST movie theatre in the city), and facets. be sure to look into the series (serieses?) that these theatres program—they do a lot of fabulous screenings of older movies, and also some great film festivals. i also go to the alamo drafthouse a lot for convenience, even tho they piss me off. but they do sometimes have cool programming.

that's what i got off the top of my head!!! congrats on the move, i love chicago and i hope you do too!!!

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anartificialsatellite · 3 months

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So I can't play a lot of video games because anything 3D where the camera moves around a lot with the player character makes me very motion sick pretty quickly. I used to be able to play these sorts of games, but as I've gotten older it's gotten worse and I haven't been able to for a few years now. (I thought finally getting glasses would fix it and it does kind of help, but not enough.) This sucks because it does mean that I miss out on a lot of games, but it also has forced me to broaden my horizons and try games I might not have found otherwise.

One of the places where this becomes more of a problem for me is the horror/thriller genres - I think there's especially a tendency to rely on 3D first and third person perspective (and especially first person) in games that are meant to be scary or creepy or whathaveyou, because when you limit the player's field of view it's not difficult to make them feel trapped and uneasy, and it lends itself well to jumpscares.

...Which makes it all the more impressive, imo, when a game that doesn't use that still succeeds at building that sort of atmosphere and immersion. So!

Here's three of my favorite scary/spooky/creepy atmospheric games without a 3D first or third person perspective:

The Excavation of Hob's Barrow

This point-and-click adventure game has 2D pixel graphics, an excellent soundtrack, and a fascinating and compelling folk horror mystery at its center. Antiquarian Thomasina Bateman travels to an isolated English town on the moors to pursue research for her book on the barrows of England, and (as one usually does in this genre) discovers something strange and sinister lurking beneath the surface. I finished this game in about 2 sessions, by which I mean I've got 10 hours of playtime on it and the only reason it wasn't one session was because I had to stop and do normal human things. (I found this game because I'm a fan of one of the publisher's other titles, The Shivah, a kind of weird and super short detective style adventure game whose main character is a bitter, depressed rabbi, and I really recommend that one as well.)

Oxenfree

Not really horror, I guess, but definitely a supernatural thriller? We'll go with that. Another adventure game, this time one where your choices affect the story. The main character is Alex, a teenage girl who, along with some friends and some non-friends, is spending the night on an island that was once home to an old military base. Using a radio, you unintentionally open a portal and find yourself facing the supernatural effects of a decades old naval disaster. The art is gorgeous, the music is absolutely tits, and there's some really cool gameplay mechanics, as well. I'm also a sucker for spooky radio shit, so when I came across this game I was all over it.

It's got a sequel, Oxenfree II: LOST SIGNALS, which is a similar style game set on a nearby island some time after the events of the first game, and I also super recommend that one, too.

FAITH

I'll start with a caveat for this one: I've only played Chapter 1, because when I first bought and played it that was the only part that was out. I can't speak for any of the rest of this game, and annoyingly, it looks like you can't buy Chapter 1 by itself anymore.

In this retro-styled game you play as a priest returning to the site of a failed exorcism, so if demonic posession and that kind of Catholic religious horror isn't your bag this game probably won't be either, but even as someone who is not Christian, I super enjoyed it. It features 8-bit graphics that remind me of Atari and some old DOS adventure games I haven't played in almost two decades, as well as some truly creepy rotoscoped pixel art. The sound is just as old school as the art and is used to deeply unsettling effect, and I was continuously impressed by how the dev managed to make such a creepy game in this style.

If you've got any others, please share them with me! I absolutely love this kind of thing and am always happy to add more to my "to play" list.

#video games #horror games #the excavation of hob's barrow #oxenfree #faith the unholy trinity #please share your faves with me if you have them i love scary game and i hate throwing up so this is an ongoing search for me

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v-era-18 · 5 months

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Possible Brahms x Black Reader Anyone?

Housekeeping wasn't on the girls lists of jobs, but with free food and housing included it was hard to pass up. The Heelshire family was quick to accept her application within the following three days, saying they needed the extra hand around while they were busy taking care of business. Apparently there was also a nanny position, but that job was swiped for someone else; it was really sad though-(Y/n) was great with kids.

The taxi ride to the new residence was silent to say the least, the afro haired girl had been keeping herself occupied in the back seat playing with her 3DS as the radio played softly in the background. The ride had been a bit long-it was a good thing she booked an early train a day ahead of schedule, keeping in mind traffic and travel. The taxi driver was nice, askinging her about her schooling at Oxford since she had been given a full ride. It was one of the main reasons she had decided to get a job here, somewhere close to the University.

Although her hometown in Texas was more reassuring, she needed to finish out her last year of school before considering moving back. Her aunt and cousin said it was cheaper this way to save up money-after all once she gets back to the states she had a plot of land from inheritance in her name. Plus time away in a new environment would give her enough time to lay out the soundtrack for her project, the way things were going it was most likely going to be a classical or romantic edition; not that she was complaining though it was her favorite type of music.

It was hard to think of how long she's been playing. Even before her parents died in the fire her first memories of them was her father playing the piano on christmas eve and her mother singing to her as they danced to the music. Gospel, classical it didn't matter as long as the sounds of the soul were played around her did the girl feel alive. Currently she can play five instruments; Violin, piano, Clarinet, Bass Clarinet, and Saxophone. She was fine with the number, seeing as though she didn't have that much time to learn more.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but wonder if they would let her use their study to practice. In the photos there was a piano in the room and she would love to play a few pieces while she was working on her own.

The car soon turned onto a private street, trees and foliage taking up the view through the windows, “Miss, were almost there at the premises. Although I must warn you this family is known for their-uh-interesting past.” The cab driver-Harvey- if she remembered correctly- voice was apprehensive.

The girl in the back frowned slightly, putting away her device in her backpack along with her headphones. She didn't want to judge the family right away, especially before meeting them. Whatever happened in the past was the past-no matter what the towns folk had to say. One thing she learned about people in the United Kingdom was that it was somewhat like the United States-only less extreme in some matters. The rumors last here-and never washes away once a reputation has been tarnished.

“I'll be the judge of that,” (Y/n) replied politely, “Thank you for your concern though Mr. Harvey. I do appreciate the ride here as well.” She understood the man was only trying to look out for her best interest so there was no need to be rude in any way. Especially since he's taken such good care of her the whole ride here.

The older man simply waved the girl off with a laugh, “Oh you were a delight, dear! Thank you so much for staying patient with this old man with the many questions earlier.” He did ask alot of questions, but that's just how older people are. Always wondering what the youth is up to.

They pulled up through the gate seeing as though it was already opened, the property was huge from what the brown skinned girl could see. The house itself was beautiful and old fashioned, stones instead of bricks with grand balconies she could stand at for a lifetime. The girl could only imagine what the inside looked like, the Heelshires were obviously loaded and set for life-no wonder she was given a free room and meals.

After unloading her bags at the front steps and bidding farewell, Mr Harvey set off in his taxi heading back home to his wife. Leaving the girl at the front door waiting anxiously, there wasn't any instruction on how she should or where to enter the home upon arrival. She did see two cars in front so she knew there were others home. Seeing as though the doorbell might be disrupting the girl decided to knock loud enough for someone to hear.

(Y/n) adjusted her clothes quickly, she was wearing simple low rise jeans with a lavender purple sweater with white worn sneakers. Her hair was in twists, pulled up in a bun to look more professional for her first appearance-although she wished she quickly did her edges in the car. The humid air caused curls to pop at the ends, and even though she didn't mind her hair getting moisture-didn't mean her employers would.

The man who answered the door seemed a bit younger from what she was expecting for Mr. Heelshire. He had a nice black puff vest to go over his gray zip up sweater, his eyes were easy-brown and she couldn't help but notice shadowed facial hair. He scanned her over for a minute before giving her an award winning smile-or at least tried to-it came out more awkward than anything.

“Ah, you must be (Y/n) everyone was wondering where you were,” He opened the door wider welcoming her in, “The names Malcome, the grocery boy.” The girl shook hands with the man walking in, as he proceeded to grab her bags from outside. Normally the girl would fret and fuss over being able to do it by herself but she quickly learned from staying here better to comply than to do rejection.

“T-thank you Malcome, my name is (Y/n). I'm supposed to be the housekeeper.” The girl uttered softly. She gazed around the inside of the home and it was more than she expected, the paintings and flowers complemented the floors greatly along with the brown wooden walls. She felt like she's practically walked through time with how different the house is compared to hers back home.

Malcolm paused, gaze landing on the girl again, “Housekeeper? I'm surprised they didn't have you as the nanny, considering how young you seem.”

“Beggars can't be choosers. Work is work, plus I'm willing to do anything I can do to help. If the nanny gets overwhelmed we can simply take care of the child at the same time,” (Y/n) turned back towards the male, giving him a soft smile before gesturing towards the stairs, “Is the Heelshires here? I would like to introduce myself properly to them to make a good impression and apologize for being late.”

“Ah, there's really nothing to worry about in regards to that,” Malcolm tried to reassure the girl, “Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire just got here, and the nanny is currently talking to them upstairs, she arrived an hour before you did.”

The girl hummed in response, taking the information in before following the male up the stairs where the other adults were waiting. Her nerves were on edge as they took steps up the stairs and towards what seemed to be a childs room. The house was old and influenced, the wood architecture complimented the blue carpeting and gold frames along the walls.

The girl had paused a bit up the stairs staring at the large portrait of the family. The Heelshires screamed grace and class, but they did seem to be happy in the photo. She couldn’t help but stare at the picture of the boy for a long moment in wonder.

“So this is the boy we’re looking after?” She voiced softly.

Malcolm made a face that she couldn’t catch, “Yeah, but don’t worry he won’t be any trouble.”

(Y/n) snorted, “that’s what my neighbor said about her daughter three years ago. The girl had dunked my clothes into open paint in the garage.”

The man chuckled, “Open paint?”

“The father was a builder, he was currently working on the garage and left it open while they had a date night. It was a harmless mistake. They paid for me to get new clothes.”

She left out the part that it was one of her favorite sweaters her ex boyfriend had gotten her when they were dating. After finding out his true nature with women she didn’t mind that the only remnant of him was destroyed. Internally she thanked the little girl. Kids had their way of doing things that are good without realizing it.

They made a right into the room before them. It was quite spacious looking like a study of some kind, a grand black piano sat in the middle with many books lined along the walls. (Y/n) had to shake her excitement at the piano, it had been two months since she’s played.

Her focus finally landed on three figures in the far corner of the room near the green marbled fireplace. Her breathing caught in her throat as she saw all three of them staring at her. It was just deserved after all she did turn up late due to traffic.

“H-hello! My name is (Y/n). Let me first apologize for being late. The cab driver got caught up with traffic-,”

The older man, who she guessed was Mr. Heelshire, held up a hand, “There is no need my dear these things happen. Come, we don’t bite.”

(Y/n) paused before making her way over near them along with Malcolm. The woman who seemed to be in her late twenties pursed her lips together as if she wanted to say something but refrained from doing so. It only added to the wonder of the tense atmosphere before her.

Mrs Heelshire stood up straight, “ (Y/n) (L/n) it is a pleasure to meet you. I’ve made sure to read over your resume and I will say I’m quite surprised that your reputation percents outside of the United States,” She moved over from in front of the chair making her eyes widen slightly at the image before her.

“This is our son Brhames. I know you’ll make a great impression.”

Oh so it’s this type of situation.

#the boy #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #Brahms Heelshire x Black Reader #Brahms Heelshire x Reader

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